Page 142 of His Surrender

As we step back onto the sidewalk, I notice a woman standing outside the store.

She’s probably around my age. Her husband balances a sleepy toddler on one shoulder, looking extremely annoyed, while she watches Dean adjust Liana’s little hat happily.

For just a second, our eyes meet. She smiles at Dean again before she looks back at me.

There’s something in her expression I recognize immediately—jealousy. She’s looking at us and seeing something she wishes she had.

A little family, enjoying a Saturday afternoon together.

She has no idea Dean and I have only officially been together for about fifteen minutes. She has no idea how terrified we both were of what people would think.

To her, we simply look like we belong together.

The thought follows me all the way to the dress boutique.

When we return to the penthouse, garment bags hang over Dean’s arm while Liana is fast asleep against his chest, exhausted from all the excitement.

Dean puts the bags down then carefully unclips the carrier before lifting her into his arms.

She barely stirs.

“I’ll put her down.”

I nod. “I’ll go put all of this in my closet.”

He smiles over his shoulder. “I’m not going to be able to get the images of you in those dresses out of my head.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “You are such a flirt.”

“I’ve earned the right.”

I laugh quietly as I disappear down the hallway.

Inside my bedroom, I close the door and lean against it for a moment.

I place the garment bags in my closet and the shopping bags on the floor.

Life feels different now. The future suddenly stretches further than I’ve let myself imagine.

Then I remember Dean and his fear of me telling my parents. I promised Dean I’d call them tonight.

My stomach flutters. I’m not ashamed, but this conversation will somehow make everything feel real.

I pull my phone from my purse and scroll until I find my mom’s name. My thumb hovers over the screen.

For one brief moment, I picture Dad answering.

Picture trying to explain that somewhere between becoming a nanny and helping raise a baby, I fell in love with the baby’s father.

There’s no perfect way to say it. So, I take a steadying breath and press Call. The phone rings twice before she answers.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound breezy and nonchalant.

“Well …” she says slowly. “You sound happy.”

I laugh. “Do I?”