Page 32 of It Happened Again

“Oh my God,” I breathed, taking the baby into my arms. Sophie latched to my side, and we both gazed upon the tiny little bean dressed in a pink outfit with a headband and a bow around her soft-haired head.

“She’s perfect,” Sophie exclaimed, bringing her hands to her mouth.

The newborn yawned, scrunched her tiny face, and clutched a finger I hadn’t realized was trembling. We all chuckled quietly at the cuteness overload.

For a while, we settled into Vivian’s room, where Chelsea fed Max on one side of the bed while Paris played with dolls on the rug. We talked and passed the babies back and forth, taking turns, first Isabella, then Max. Holding these babies in my old hometown felt like roots planted all around me, deep and strong; always a place I could return to and find love.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation—I burst into tears.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I sniffled.

“That’s your clock ticking inside of you.” Vivian smiled.

“Aunt Maisy has a clock in her?” Paris tilted her head, thinking about that.

“Sort of,” Chelsea replied. “It’s okay to want this someday, Maisy.”

“I’ve always been career first,” I murmured. “Even when Brooks asked me to stay instead of floating off on the ship... I couldn’t. Now, seeing the two of you, I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, I definitely want kids,” Sophie said, gazing down at Isabella in her arms. Then she revised her statement. “Actually, one perfect kid will do. I couldn’t see myself having more than that.”

Chelsea shifted closer as Max ended back in my arms again. “You don’t have to choose, you know. You’re allowed to have both—a career and love. I know, I know—” she put her hands up when I glared at her. “When you first met Brooks, I was a little hard on you both, worried he might keep you from achieving everything you wanted in life. But I suppose marriage and motherhood has changed my stance a little. Maisy, I’ve watched you climb every ladder you set your sights on over the years, meeting everyone else’s expectations. Maybe now it’s time to decide what kind of viewyouwant as you climb to the top. And when you get there, you’ll figure out how to fly, I know it.”

Vivian added, “You do things your own way, Maisy. You, too, Sophie. You’ll both figure it out in time. We certainly have.” She and Chelsea shared a knowing glance between them.

I liked that and held her words close...What view do I want when I get to the top?

By the time we left the bedroom and returned to the great room, something shifted inside of me—subtle but seismic, with enough force to be life-changing.

Then I noticed Brooks, standing by the fireplace, talking with Rex, Richard. Completely at home in a charcoal flannelshirt and dark jeans, Brooks’ thumbs hooked in the belt loops. The sexy view of him froze me in my path.

His eyes found mine, and instantly my pulse forgot its rhythm.

“Brooks is here?” I whispered to Sophie.

“Apparently, Richard invited him up to talk about some design work,” she offered.

My eyebrows shot up. I sashayed across the room slowly, my heart spinning like a traitorous, hopeful thing as it always did around Brooks.

“You didn’t say you were coming up here,” I breathed.

“I didn’t know until last night when Richard called.” Brooks smiled crookedly. “It’s good to see you out of the city. I hope last night was as relaxing as it could be?”

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly how last night went. And suddenly, all the clarity I thought I had about my life and career vanished.

12

HEARTS ON THE TRAIL

BROOKS

The Buchanan estatebuzzed with baby cries, soft coos, and the warm chaos that only a family gathering could stir. It seemed too surreal how they all fell into step as a family, trading stories about sleep training and diaper blowouts like they were battle wounds. Rex had Chelsea now, and a kid. Richard had Vivian now, and two kids.

On the outskirts were three bachelors: me, Archer, and Kingston. As Sophie captured their attention, my sights set on the only woman in the room that mattered.

Maisy sat on the couch near the window, gently rocking Isabella in her arms, her expression soft and instinctive. I caught sight of the way she tucked the blanket just so, the tiny smile that played on her lips as the baby cooed, and something visceral stirred in my chest. My body reacted before my mind could catch up—a heavy thud in my chest, a tightening in my throat, an ache I hadn’t felt quite like this before.

I could imagine her holding our child someday, and I wanted that. But we needed to get on the same page about us before that could ever materialize. With weeks to go until her big event, between now and then I’d do everything possible to ensure sheknows she’s mine. Because after that, who knew what might happen?

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