Page 9 of Shiver

I unbuckle Gia from the car seat, thankful that she fell asleep quickly. I guess when you’ve been crying all night, it really tuckers you out.

Hell,I would know.

I’m fucking exhausted, and I had to watch some video online about reducing under eye swelling. Cold tea bags really did the trick.

Being as gentle as possible, I pull her to my chest and throw the massive diaper bag over my shoulder. She wiggles in my arms at the movement, and panic seizes my chest. I stand as still as a statue, holding my breath until she’s settled.

This parenting business isnotfor the weak.

The door of my SUV stares back at me, taunting me as I debate how to close it without waking her. Shaking my head, I walk up the driveway. Someone else can go out there and close it for me.

The moment my foot makes it onto the porch ramp, the door creaks open. Charlie’s head pokes out. “Need a hand?” she whisper-screams at me.

I nod, jutting my chin in the direction of my car door. She opens the door wider, slipping out and sprinting down the driveway to gently close it. When she returns, her dark curls create a haphazard halo around her face, and she’s breathing heavily as she holds the door open for me to head inside.

Instead of seeing my family sitting around the dinner table that we had custom-made for the house to fit an excessive number of us, I see pastel yellow and green balloons all around the living room. My family, teammates, and their spouses all whisper, “Happy baby shower!” in unison.

My cheeks heat, but the smile that stretches my mouth is genuine, warmth seeping into my chest. “Give me a minute to set her down,” I tell them all as I make my way down the hall. Ale gets up, following behind me.

“I set up a bassinet in this room before you got here,” he tells me, his voice low but without the obnoxious whispering that everyone else seems to be doing.

I’m so damn grateful for my family. They’ve never let me fall on my ass, even when they probably should’ve.

Hell, maybe if they had, I’d have learned my lesson, but that’s not on them. That’s entirelymyfault.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate you,” I tell him earnestly, entering the dark room with rain sounds already playing in the background.

Gratitude fills my chest as I lower my daughter into the bassinet, a sleep sack already laid out for her. I set her down on it, quietly fixing the snaps together and holding down each of her arms to swaddle her. She wriggles momentarily before her body goes still, and I can back slowly out of the room.

When I make it back into the living room, my family and friends are all seated with decorations, gifts, and food all over the place.

There’s a massive wicker chair covered in pink hockey balloons with faux flowers and streamers.

My mom points to the chair in the middle of the room. “That’s your seat,” she says with a bright laugh.

I take my rightful place on my makeshift throne and let the festivities begin.

My mom and sisters managed to set up a ton of baby shower games, including the one where you guess what’s in the diapers, don’t say the word “baby,” and chug beer from baby bottles. Not that you can really call it chugging when it comes out one drop at a time.

By the end of the night, I’m even more exhausted, but having the support of all of the most important people in my life has managed to quiet the little voice in my head that’s been yelling, “You can’t fucking do this! You’re a bad father, Luca!” While that voice is most definitely still present, at least the screaming has dulled to a steady hum.

I have the most incredible support system, and regardless of how unprepared and undeserving I feel, at least I have them to help me through it.

Chapter eight

Samara

Monday, July 6, 2026

Wind whips past me, my curls tangling as my heels click across the pavement toward the doors of the courthouse.

Buzzing comes from inside my purse, and I halt my movement as I scrounge around for it. Finding my cell at the bottom of my brown NDG bag, I quickly answer the call. A smile lights my face when I realize who it is.

“Roman Wilde, as I live and breathe,” I say with a chuckle, a small smile stretching my lips.

“Samara, how’ve you been? Crushing the souls of other, lesser attorneys and leaving no prisoners?” Rome asks, a joking lilt to his deep baritone.

“Of course. What else would I be doing in my free time?” I retort sarcastically.

---