Page 164 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

They’re his words, his voice in my head. But there’s something missing. Like he’s writing from a distance. Like he’s drifting.

He’s still in my life… but it feels like he’s slipping through my fingers.

I blink back tears I refuse to shed and whisper into the dark, “Why aren't you here?”

The only reply is silence and my own doubt curling tighter around me.

The next morning, there’s a knock at the door.

I move slowly, my body still sore, every movement reminding me that healing isn’t linear.

When I open it, I freeze.

My father stands there, holding a paper bag of groceries in one hand and wearing a sheepish smile that doesn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

"It's fine."

I step aside, letting him in. No words. Just the soft squeak of the door closing behind us.

He sets the bag on the counter and turns to me, rubbing the back of his neck like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

We sit. Not on the couch, but at the kitchen table. Just far enough apart from each other that it’s not quite comfortable.

He clears his throat. "I wanted to check in on you. See how you’re really doing."

I glance away, unsure what to say, so I just shrug.

"I still stand by what I said before," he adds gently. "About wanting to make things work between us. I know it’s going to take more than words. And I know I don’t deserve your trust yet... maybe I never fully will. But I meant it, Sophie. I want to be in your life. And the baby’s. If you'll let me."

I nod slowly, emotion catching in my throat. "Thanks, Dad, that’s... good to hear."

He gives me a tentative smile.

"I brought your favorite, those lemon cookies you used to eat straight out of the box," He opens the box and hands it to me.

"Dad, I don't do that anymore," I lie, taking the box and shoving one cookie into my mouth.

His smile is full, the corners of his lips almost reaching his ears. "My girl."

That pulls a small laugh from me. Just a breath of one. But it’s something.

***

The next day, Denver shows up.

He brings lunch, sandwiches from that little corner deli I used to love but haven’t had the appetite for in weeks.

I raise an eyebrow but say nothing as he sets them on the counter and pulls out two cans of sparkling water.

We talk about how Clara’s pregnancy is going. About my recovery. About how weird it feels to be in my own apartment again.

And then Denver leans back in the chair and says, "The merger’s done. Officially signed, sealed, and profitable. You and Alessio did good, Soph. We’ve got new clients asking for you by name."

I blink. “Seriously?”

He nods. “Dad and I talked. We want to offer you a spot at Prestige. Senior partner. Flexible hours. Good pay. You don’t have to decide right now.”

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