Page 21 of Insta-Family (Forbidden Descendants 3)

But I only had two—okay, three—items with me today, neatly packed into a gift bag, as I parked at the curb in front of a mint green, ranch-style house with white trim. Because even I had realized I’d gone a little overboard with my purchases, and I didn’t want to inundate Lucy with too many presents all at once, otherwise my crazy ass might be asked to never come back again.

Blowing out a steadying breath, I glanced at the unsuspecting house before grabbing the gift bag and opening the door to climb out of my Charger.

Here went nothing.

I have no idea why I was so nervous. Or why I’d taken such extreme care with showering, shaving, and picking out something nice to wear. I was here to visit a newborn; like she really gave a damn about my appearance or hygiene. But then, I guess her mother might, and she was the ultimate gatekeeper who had the power to deny me access to my niece, ergo I needed to impress Lucy too, in order to get time with her baby.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. This was all about Ava. It had nothing to do with the jump I felt in my stomach, knowing I was about to see Lucy again.

Brushing a damp palm on the thigh of my jeans as I made my way up the front walk, I tried to calm my racing nerves, but honestly, it felt as if the rest of my life was beginning right now.

That was, if I didn’t fuck this up and get my ass kicked out in the first five minutes.

At the door, I paused and drew in a short breath before ringing the bell. Then, I winced because shit. I hope the baby hadn’t been sleeping. I certainly wouldn’t be getting any brownie points for waking Ava from a nap.

The lock clicked, making my heartbeat jerk, and then the door began to open. I froze, tensing in preparation for that initial kick of attraction I always seemed to experience whenever I first saw her, and then I exhaled raggedly when I focused on the woman who was revealed before me.

It was not Lucy.

Damn, what if she’d given me a phony address? I should’ve called first, seen if the number was even legit.

But then I processed who I was looking at, and I pulled back in surprise.

“Dr. Kavanagh?” I asked, shocked to my core and not at all prepared for her to answer the door. “You’re Dr. Kavanagh, who taught that writing class at the library, right?”

“Right, yes! John…” She bobbed her head with excitement as a pleased, welcoming smile stretched across her face. “I can’t believe it’s you. What an unexpected surprise. It’s been so long.”

She wasn’t lying. Except wait. Had she just called me John?

“Uh…” Spilling out an uneasy laugh, I said, “Actually, it’s Vaughn.”

She blinked and leaned toward me, turning her face slightly to hear me better. “Did you say Vaughn? With a V?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, wincing in apology. She slapped both hands over her mouth before bubbling out a delighted laugh.

“Oh my goodness, that’s it, then. I mean, it explains so much now. I always thought your name was John. I tried every so often to find you, just to check in and see how things were going. But those classes were such informal, free-to-the-public courses, and with their come-and-go as you please approach, plus no sign-up sheets, I couldn’t locate you that way. And here, after all these years, I finally learn I just had your name wrong. Wow.” With another laugh, she dropped her arms and rocked back on her heels, announcing, “I feel like such a nincompoop.”

Laughing lightly, I assured, “It’s fine, really. I’m flattered you remember me at all.”

“Remember you?” Her eyes widened incredulously before she reached out and clasped my arm. “You are by far the most memorable pupil I ever had. The reason I enjoy teaching so much is so I can meet and help individuals in the way you made me feel that I helped you.”

“You did help me. More than you could ever know,” I promised, my face heating from her praise. I’d never been able to handle flattery well. It made me too uncomfortable and exposed. And the adoring way Dr. Kavanagh was looking at me made me feel stripped down right to the core.

Her attention dropped to the gift bag at my side, and she squinted slightly in confusion before, suddenly, her eyes flared wide. “Oh!” Lips parting, she flashed her gaze up to my face. “You’re Vaughn Merrill.”

Her emphasis on my last name made my gut tighten with worry. But I nodded, hoping my answer didn’t get the door slammed in my face for some reason. “That’s right,” I said slowly.

Smacking a palm to her forehead, she rolled her eyes and announced, “I had your surname wrong too. I thought it was Miller. I messed that one up entirely, didn’t I?” Opening the door wider, she stepped aside to wave me forward. “You must be here to see Ava Grace, then. What a coincidence that we stopped by to visit her at the same time. Come on in. They just got home from the hospital this morning.”

So that must mean she didn’t live here, and I was at the right place. Whew. That was a relief. And yet, for some reason, I was still cautiously wary as I stepped over the threshold.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Once inside the front room, I paused, remaining on the small, tiled entry, and I took in the light blue walls with white furniture, giving the area a beach theme, especially with all the ocean pictures hanging up and seashells decorating the coffee table.

It would’ve looked modern and posh if it weren’t for the baby blankets, swings, bouncers, diaper bags, and infant toys scattered about, littering the room, along with the adult-sized fuzzy, gray slippers lying on the floor by the sofa.

Turning back to Dr. Kavanagh, I lifted my eyebrows. “So you must know...Lucy?”

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