Page 115 of Enemies to Lovers

Copper’s eyes blinked open. “You and that camera.”

I placed the photo to my chest. “Stop being so sexy and perfect, and I’ll stop with the photos.”

His eyes twinkled, and I walked to the desk where a thousand other photos filled the corkboard behind his office desk.

I pinned it in place with a free tack and then backed up to get a better look at the wall as a whole.

It spelled out our life.

Our first photo at the Truth Tellers clubhouse, Holt asleep in Copper’s arms, and me smiling with my arms around Copper’s thick neck.

My gaze moved to the next one.

Copper with Holt high in the air, waiting for him to come back into his hands.

The next—Holt dangling upside down from Copper’s arms, both of them with huge smiles on their faces.

Me, on the ground, face-to-face with Copper, arm wrestling him.

Me, in Copper’s arms, the bike between our thighs, watching the fireworks burst to life in the air. Holt on the ground next to our feet, staring up with us.

Me, on Copper’s desk, holding a photo of Copper’s new business plaque.

The one in the bottom corner made me pause as it always did.

My dad next to Copper, Holt in Copper’s arms, as they laughed.

Mom, my sisters and brothers and I still didn’t have a great relationship, but we were working on it.

It was easier with my brothers than it was my sisters and my mom.

My sisters had chosen my mom’s side.

My mom, though she was trying, still had her opinions on my life, and I didn’t agree with them at all.

But she chose to keep her trap shut so she could spend time with her grandchildren.

Though, she never got to do it alone like my dad and brothers did.

“Baby?”

I jerked my gaze away from that photo of my dad and found the second newest one on the board.

A photo of Holt, Copper, Lilah and me in the hospital, all smiling—except for a sleeping Lilah—the day that she was born.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I glanced over my shoulder at my husband.

“You okay?” he asked.

He asked me that a lot.

So far with Lilah’s pregnancy, I hadn’t experienced the same destructive depression that I had with Holt, but she’d only been out of the womb for a week.

“So far, so good,” I promised.

His eyes studied my face. “That changes, you let me know.”

I turned, leaned against the wall, and studied him. “I think you’d know before me, baby.”

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