Lauralee is on the other side of the bed when she says, “It’s okay, Baylor.”
Catching the others looking between us, I ask, “Can I hold her?”
Tagger reaches down to pick up his baby girl. He kisses her forehead and then comes around to hand her to me. “She’s so tiny,” I say, taking her into my hands because she’s not much bigger. I adjust her in my arms, already loving this girl so much. “Welcome to the world, Julie Ann.”
“Julie Ann?” Lauralee says, in a quieter excitement fitting the room as she comes around behind me and peeks at the baby. “Aw, I love that you named her after your mom. What a treasure.”
I felt signs of moving toward the notion of having kids, but it’s holding this little one while my wife is leaning against me that seals the deal. I want this. I want this with her so badly. I can wait for her to decide, but I hope we’re on the same page.
She asks, “May I hold her?”
“Of course,” Tagger replies.
I shift to place little Julie Ann in the cradle of her arms, caught by the tightening in my chest when her eyes shine with so much love for this baby. She’s always been beautiful, but she’s stealing my breath at this moment. When she glances up at me, her smile filled to the brim with overwhelming happiness as tears fill the corners, words aren’t shared. They aren’t needed. She and I are family now. ThatI dowasn’t just a connection between the two of us. It was a vow for the family we’ll create together.
.
CHAPTER 35
Lauralee
“I’m exhausted.”After dragging myself into the apartment at 2 a.m., I hang the key on the hook and set my purse on the kitchen counter. “I can’t wait to go to bed.”
“Is that code for I don’t want to have sex?”
I shoot Baylor a look, but I can’t hold it for more than a second without laughing. “Of course not.”
“That’s my girl.” He kicks off his shoes and strips out of his clothes while entering the bedroom.
Connecting physically becomes the foreplay to lying together afterward. It’s my favorite part. When he has his arms around me, I don’t mind letting the hours tick slowly by. Despite thinking I’d fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, I find contentment in listening to his steady breathing. He’s comfort to my soul wrapped in a big, sexy package.
But I am thirsty, so I sneak out of bed and into the kitchen. Standing in front of the sink after filling my glass with water, I look at this tiny apartment and think about the purpose in which I built it. It was supposed to be rented out, but I’ve only had one reservation come of it—Baylor’s. I’ve taken over, craving a freedom I didn’t realize I was so desperately needing.
Spying the photo, I pick it up off the coffee table and study it again. Though I’ll never forget that day or the feeling I had when it was taken, it needs to be framed. I want to see it every day when I wake up and one last time before bed.
I set it back down, eyeing the envelope that I never opened after discovering the photo. Sitting on the edge of the couch, I pull the papers out of it. I don’t know what to make of this thick stack of legal documents. Baylor never said what it was. He only said he was fixing this mess. It had to do something with the lease or the management company, but what mess exactly? There were a few . . .
Since it’s too dark to read the fine print, I switch on the small lamp by the TV and sit on the floor nearby so the light hits the paperwork.
As requested by the client . . . blah, blah, blah.
Change of ownership . . . I flip the page. Greene Ventures. Lauralee Knot. I read the line again, not following the legal jargon in the bulk of the paragraph. Transfer of titles. Blah blah. My name is listed among four others, with the owner listed beside it. Owner of what?
I keep scanning until I find the address listed, not of my shop, but of the entire building, which comprises four commercial spaces, including the fifth, listed as the apartment above it. No . . . he didn’t do that.Did he?
Jumping to my feet, I hurry back into the bedroom and climb into bed, facing him. “Baylor?”No response.“Are you awake, Baylor?” I ask, gently rocking him by the arm. He groans, but I can tell he’s still asleep. “Baylor, wake up,” I say in a voice higher than normal.
His eyes fly open. “What is it?” I think he’s still caught between sleep and being awake.
When his eyelids begin to dip again, I hold up the papers. “What have you done?”
Popping his eyes open again, his expression is dragged down. “Fuck, what have I done now?”
“This.” I rattle the papers in the air above his head. “Did you already do this, or it’s not a done deal yet?”
He turns to look up, but confusion wrangles the neutral expression he had been wearing. “This being? Want to fill me in?”
“This contract transferring ownership of the building and shop, even this apartment, to me?”
