Page 97 of Drop the Mitts

André laughed out loud, then pushed her back until he could lift her up on the desktop. “Well, I found your Hinge profile, so?—”

“I deleted that!”

He pressed closer. “I still have a couple pairs of those boxer briefs.”

“The blinds are open,” she murmured.

“Does it look like I give a shit?” André ran his hands through her hair, watching her eyes roll back in her head.

She sighed. “I’m worried I like you more now that I know you have money.”

“I’m worried I like you more now that you watch hockey.”

Grace laughed. “It’s probably not healthy. For you to keep telling me things that make me fall deeper in—” She stopped herself, her eyes flying open.

André raised an eyebrow. “Please. Continue.”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t saying?—”

André pulled her lips to his, kissing her until she melted into him. “I love you, too, Grace.”

She made a soft sound in her throat. “It’s too soon to say that.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’ve followed enough arbitrary rules in your life. You don’t need to follow that one.” She gazed up at him, her ankles wrapping around his calves. He kissed her forehead. “Love is a heavy burden to carry on your own.”

Grace released a breath, arching into him and pressing her cheek against his. “I think what I know of love is so small. But all I have is yours.”

He smiled, kissing her jaw. “We’re a team, Grace. We’ll figure out the rest of it together.”

Epilogue

Grace

The Thompson housewas lit up like a holiday card. String lights ran along the porch railings and stretched across the backyard. The firepit crackled in the center of the lawn, surrounded by folding chairs and blankets. Someone had turned on a speaker near the grill, and country music hummed low over the laughter and clatter of beer bottles.

It wasn’t warm enough on paper to have a backyard BBQ, but in Alberta, fifteen degrees Celsius in March felt like a beach day.

Inside, the kitchen table was loaded with smoked brisket and pork ribs from a place Country swore by in Okotoks, two kinds of potato salad, because Anne and Tina refused to compromise, sweet buns from Penny’s favourite bakery, and one veggie tray that Grace had brought.

Jenna stood barefoot by the island, Hope propped on her hip, cheeks pink, eyes wide.

“She looks lighter,” Grace murmured.

André frowned. “I don’t know. She’s gained a ton of weight.”

Grace smacked his shoulder. “Not talking about Hope.” He smirked and picked up a rib.

Amey dropped the petition two days earlier. The court filing came in that morning, withdrawing the claim and finalizing an addendum to the adoption agreement. Elodie worked with both parties to help navigate the language, ensuring Amey and Brady could have contact in a healthy, moderated way. Hope wouldn’t grow up with question marks. She’d grow up surrounded by an entire family who loved her.

“Do you wish you knew your birth parents?” André asked.

Grace pondered. “Sometimes. Of course, I’m curious.” She thought about the lengths she’d been willing to go to for her friends and the decisions Amey and Brady had made. Something inside her softened. They were all just trying to do the best they could.

Jack raised his beer from the couch. “To Jenna and Country, you survived legal hell with YouTube smiles and perfect hair.”

Country laughed and leaned over to clink his beer.

Fly reached over his wife, Jess, and adjusted their new baby in a wrap. “Seriously. You two showed us all what it means to go to the boards for your kid.”

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