Page 94 of The Logic of Loyalty

Dick looks around my room with a raised brow. “Where’s the lovely Wilder girl?”

“She works with Brandon while he prepares for the end of the fiscal year.”

“Right, sure, sure.” He nods and continues sizing up my office.

I’m full of shit. Sure, she’s working with Brandon now, but not for those reasons. Dick doesn’t even question it, though. It’s not even the end of the fiscal year.

“Son, after this presentation, we’re going to announce it.” His chest puffs out in self-importance and the pretense of pride.

“It?” I finish packing my bag, pull out my Paige Pregnancy notes, and jot down an idea before I forget.

He laughs at my question, obviously assuming I’m kidding.

I’m not.

“Hilarious. We can walk together to the meeting.” He slaps my shoulder in something resembling affection, and I’m somehow unaffected.

I shrug. “I’m not going.” I sling the bag over my shoulder to emphasize my exit.

His eyebrows drop, and the menace that always simmers beneath the surface peeks out when he squeezes my shoulder to the point of pain. “This is not funny, boy. Bring that pretty little program and come accept the massive promotion and honor you’re being given. You’ll be the youngest VP in our branch history—hell, in regional history. So get your head out of your ass, fix your tie and your fucking suit, and let’s go.”

I jerk out of his hold. “It’s been on the calendar that I would miss half the day.”

“Tough. Certain sacrifices have to be made when you’re moving up the ladder. Now, for the last time⁠—”

The alarm on my phone goes off, blessedly cutting my father off. “Sorry, Dad. I have to go.” I brush past him, but he grabs my arm in a bruising grip.

“You leave, you lose. Do you understand what I’m saying to you right now?” Fuck this timing.

I rip my arm from his grasp. He’s strong for his age. “Sure thing. Glenn has the program set up. See ya.”

I leave him sputtering behind me, but I’m about to see my wife and, for the first time, my babies.

I can’t hide the spring in my step.

I’m fucking late. I tap my foot on the floor and check my watch again. I was supposed to be there five minutes ago, but I had a plan. It was written down, a whole list I gave myself forty-five minutes to complete when realistically, it would have taken me thirty at most. Then I was stopped by every single person and their brother asking about Paige and me. I did nothing but explain how we’re doing great without actually letting any of our business flap in the gossiping breeze.

Then I got stuck behind Old Man Cooper in his ’57 Ford, taking his weekly fifteen-mile-per-hour joy ride through town. I’m doing my best not to honk my horn at him, but Paige is giving me a chance, and I can’t waste it.

Like a mirage, I see the sign for the clinic ahead, and George turns off the main road to finish his circuit. Thank God. I peel into the parking lot, leaving a mark, I’m sure, and fly out of the car. But halfway to the door, I realize I forgot half the reason I’m late. “Fuck!”

A couple leaving the clinic glares at me, the woman covering her belly like that will protect her baby’s ears. “Sorry.”

I race back to my car, grab the bag, and fly back to the entrance. Through it, I see Paige ready to walk into the back. Shit.

I stumble through the door, and as if she felt me, her eyes hit me. I say her name under my breath and wait for her reaction, bracing for disappointment or indifference. Instead, Paige’s face lifts into a smile, brightening when she sees me.

This. This is the expression I will strive to earn for the rest of my life.

Chapter Thirty

PAIGE

Maybe he’s not coming? I click the button on my phone again, and it hasn’t even been a full minute since I last checked.

“Paige?” The nurse, Grace, the local minister’s wife, sticks her head out into the waiting room, and the disappointment in myself for my disappointment in his absence is a double whammy. What were you expecting? He’s in the middle of a shitshow at work. “But he promised.” I clench my jaw against the dip in my stomach and meet the nurse at the door. “Hey, hun. We are in the⁠—”

The door to the office opens with a quiet whoosh, and a familiar lightness hits when I recognize the man standing in the entrance. Trevor. His hair is a disaster, and he’s carrying one of our reusable bags. He looks totally harried, and as if a magnet connects us, he zeroes in on me without error. “Paige.”