Page 139 of Shots Fired

I laugh at the way he holds his cell out in front of him, head sagging between his shoulders.

“Are you tormenting my brother again?” Darcy comes to sit across my lap.

I look up into her pretty eyes. She’s curled her hair into waves today, and I loop one around my finger as they cascade down her glittery pink bodycon dress. The yellow diamond earrings I bought her for Christmas match her engagement ring perfectly. She looks fucking breathtaking.

“Making up for lost time,” I reply, setting a tender kiss to her shoulder.

“Listen, while I get that all of us were young and in love at some point, I’ll have none of that petting in my place, thank you very much,” Jon announces, pointing at us with a spatula. “You’re still on probation with me, remember?”

Mom snickers from across the table. She’s been talking to Felicity, Darcy, and Kendra all day, and honestly, witnessing her beaming smile as she girl-talks with my new family is definitely the greatest gift I could’ve wished for this holiday period.

“Can I offer my coach a little advice?” I lean back in my chair to look at Jon, one palm resting on Emily as Darcy starts up talking with the girls again.

Jon spins on his heel as Jack plops down next to me, stealing a honey-roasted parsnip from my plate. As if he didn’t already eat a whole-ass turkey.

“Don’t push it, Archer,” Jon warns, showing me his back before he sets a pan on the stove in front of him.

I decide to push it because … it’s me.

“The turkey was delicious and everything,” I say, smirking around my beer glass as I lift it to my lips. “Although I’d have added champagne to the broth and cooked away the alcohol in the final stretch. I find it helps to keep the meat moist.”

Darcy makes a retching sound from above me. Any mention of meat, and she’s heaving. Just like me when I saw the nut roast she planned to eat.

Jon pauses his movements around the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at me.

You cannot tell me Jack and Jon aren’t the same person.

He quirks a brow, wiping his spare hand over his apron. “Are you telling me you can actually cook, Archer?”

I shrug and set another kiss on my wife’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you what I told Jensen one time in practice: if you, me, and him had a cook-off, I’m confident I’d blow you both out of the water.”

Darcy joins the conversation, tipping her head at me. “I can confirm the boy can cook. I’ve had some of the best meals ever from the comfort of his bed. Like the other morning,” she starts, and I loop my arm around her waist, so fucking proud that she’s mine, “I was feeling nauseous again. Next thing, he’s bringing me a homemade dal curry, along with brown rice and a coriander naan bread.” She imitates a chef’s kiss. “Perfection. My craving for beans and pulses was immediately satiated, and the nausea suppressed.”

Jon motions behind him to the stove. “Well, why aren’t you up here, proving your worth?”

Wrapping Darcy tighter in my arms, I bury my face into her hair. “Too busy loving my girl.”

“Ugh, I just love him,” Felicity coos from across the table, heart eyes when she looks at me and her daughter. “I’d say my son-in-law has already proven his worth.”

“Hmm,” Mom replies, twisting her wineglass around on the table. “I have a few stories I can tell that might change your mind.”

I pull my thumb and forefinger across my mouth, begging for her silence. There are plenty of secrets my mom can unearth about me—mostly when it comes to my past with women—but I know she won’t go there.

She just laughs, and my heart swells even bigger. The temptation to drop that I just bought her a place a few blocks from my and Darcy’s penthouse is overwhelming, but I decide to wait until tomorrow, as I originally planned since it’s when wecan get access to show her around. Emma’s already called dibs on the room she wants when she comes to visit.

“Oh!” Darcy announces, excitement lighting up her face when she looks at me. She rests her palm over my hand. “Did you feel that?”

Don’t cry around the dinner table, Archer.

When Emily kicks again, Jon throws his spatula down and races toward us. “Can I feel?” he asks Darcy, an emotion I’ve rarely seen before in his eyes.

Felicity and Mom rise from their seats, too, and a circle forms around my wife.

Jon holds up a hand to everyone. “I think you’ll find I called first go. Granddad Jon wants to meet Emily.”

As if following his instruction or maybe just to humor my demanding coach, Emily kicks again, and his face lights up. I know Jon met Felicity when she was thirty-nine and Darcy and Jack were almost college age. A stranger could argue he might’ve wanted children of his own, but from the way he protects, loves, and defends his stepchildren, along with the proud look in his eyes right now, I’d say he feels rich enough.

“I’m so proud of you, Darcy,” Jon says, a shine to his eyes that I know isn’t from when he was cutting onions earlier.

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