Because at long last, she was completely content and happy. She had everything she'd ever longed for: She'd met an amazing, loving man to share her life with, her career was fulfilling and interesting, and she had the most wonderful, delightful child on the planet. She was so blessed.
She watched now as Logan set Annabel on her belly on the carpet. He gave her diapered tush a tiny pat and said, "Go to your mama. Go get her!"
Tess gazed at her handsome, sexy Viking. He'd adjusted well to life on Long Island. He liked New York, and once he'd let his walls down, he'd been embraced by the entire family. Most importantly, he'd found new purpose. He was finally putting his degrees in social work to use, working at the Harrison Foundation as a consultant in several capacities. He was damn good at it, too. Tess was proud of him, and knew he felt good about being in a position to help others.
They were deeply in love, and the best of friends. All was right with the world.
Annabel scooted forward, squealing and babbling as she crawled toward Tess.
Tess shifted, swinging her legs off the couch to hold her arms out to her daughter. "Come here, baby. Come on!"
When the baby reached her, Tess lifted her up and showered her with praise.
"Guess I better hit the shower," Logan said. "I'll be quick. And I'll be sure to take Bubbles out to go potty too."
"Okay. I'll get Annabel's things together, the baby bag, all of that."
"Teamwork!" He got to his feet and smiled down at his wife and daughter. "Love you."
"Love you too." Tess smiled back up at him. "By the way, I need to tell you something . . ."
"Sure, what is it?" Logan asked.
Still holding the baby, Tess patted the couch cushion beside her, and he sat. She let her eyes roam over his handsome face then leaned in, unable to keep herself from giving his beard a quick little affectionate scratch.
He grabbed her fingertips and kissed them. "What's up?"
"Um . . . I want to make an announcement tonight at dinner," Tess said. "Since all of the Harrisons will be there."
"Okaaaay . . . What are we announcing?" His pale green eyes studied her.
Tess smiled, took a deep breath, and said, "Remember when I said I had an errand to run this morning?"
"Yeah. So?" He reached out a finger to Annabel, who grasped it with a squeak.
"It wasn't an errand," Tess said. "I had a doctor's appointment. I wanted to confirm the test I took two days ago." Her smile deepened, the happiness bubbling inside her as she watched Logan's face light up with shock and delight.
"Get outta here!" he cried with a laugh. "Are you . . . ?"
"Yup. I'm pregnant," Tess affirmed. "Baby number two will be here in May."
"Oh my God!" Logan shifted to hug both Tess and Annabel at the same time. "That's amazing! I don't believe it. I mean, we just started trying. It's so soon!"
"I know. They won't even be two years apart," Tess said, looking down at Annabel, then back up to her husband. "Think we can handle it?"
Logan kissed her long and hard. Then, with a radiant smile, he said happily, "Together, we can handle anything. We're the Dream Team, remember? We got this."
Wonder what secrets still lurk
in the Harrisons' closet?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at more from
Jennifer Gracen.
IT MIGHT BE YOU
Coming soon from
Zebra Books!
Nick Martell pulled up in front of his parents' house. The engine on his sleek black Ford Mustang GT quieted as he cut the ignition, leaving him in silence to gather his thoughts. He had so much to tell his family, he didn't know where to start. A gentle breeze blew, making the long leaves of the palm trees overhead sway against the soft blue of the evening sky. He let his head fall back against the seat and drew a few long, deep breaths as he looked at the house.
It was the same as always. His mom had planted new flowers in the bigger pot by the front door, a bright hot pink. Nick grinned; it was her favorite color, and reminded him of her. He'd grown up in a modest three-bedroom home on a quiet street in a decent suburb, only five miles from the center of Miami. His father had been on the Miami police force for twenty-five years before retiring, devoted to the job and to his family. Nick had worshipped his dad as a kid, and aspired to be like him as a young adult, which was ultimately why he'd become a cop himself five years before. Five years of hard work . . . and now, some payoff. He figured his dad would be proud of him tonight, and the elation of that made Nick's grin widen.
Lew Martell met Maria Sanchez when Nick was three years old. Lew married Maria when Nick was four, and legally adopted Nick as his own when he was five. Though they didn't share blood, as far as Nick was concerned, Lew was his father in every way, and knew to the core of his soul that Lew felt the same way. Even a few years later, when Maria and Lew brought Nick two little sisters, he'd never been made to feel anything other than they were one hundred percent a family.
Yes, there was a blank space on Nick's birth certificate where the biological father's name should have been. Nick didn't care. When he was eleven, and a middle school project about genealogy raised questions, Maria had sat her son down and explained the truth: She had gotten pregnant via a one-night stand when she was twenty. Drunk at a party, she'd made a foolish choice-but she was adamant that Nick knew she never thought of it as a mistake. That she took responsibility for her choice, that Nick had been a gift from God to her, and most of all, that she never regretted her decision to keep her baby.
Maria told her young son that she never even knew the man's last name, which is why she hadn't put one on the birth certificate. All she could tell Nick was he was white, probably some basic Anglo-Saxon mix, and he'd never known she was pregnant. Ashamed of her situation, she hadn't tried to contact him. Maria had left her job and home in New York to live with relatives in Miami until Nick was born. When she met and fell in love with Lew, it had been another gift from God to her, and they built a family together, made a good life for their three kids.
Young Nick had been surprised, but didn't give the news much thought. It did explain why even though Nick was proud to be Puerto Rican, there was something there that always felt . . . off. He'd heard some of his aunts whispering once when he was six years old, something about his white father, and he'd assumed it was about Lew . . . maybe not. Maybe his gut instincts had been strong even then. Also, his nose was too narrow, his hair was a little straighter, different from his mom and his relatives; and though he got as deep a tan as most of his relatives in the summer months, his skin just wasn't quite the same rich dark gold as his mother's.
So even at the young age of eleven, Nick was glad to know the truth about his conception because it helped some things make sense, things he felt that before he just couldn't make sense of or verbalize. And knowing the truth . . . He'd pushed it into the recesses of his mind and went on with his life. It didn't alter who he was. He had a dad who loved him. That's all that mattered.
Now, as he walked up the front steps and unlocked the door to his parents' house, it was his father he couldn't wait to see the most. He knew his mom would be proud, but his dad would be bursting with it.
"Hello?" Nick called out as he stepped into the living room. The spicy aroma of his mother's cooking wafted in the air, enticing and comforting him at the same time.
"Ah!" His mother came in, rushing to hug him. She leaned back to look up into his face and held his cheeks. "You look good, mijo! You need a shave, but your eyes are smiling."
"I'm twenty-nine, Ma," he grumbled, teasing back. "You ever gonna stop telling me when I need to clean up?"
"No."
"I don't shave on my days off. I take a break. I've told you this."
She shrugged and made a disdainful face that clearly expressed her thoughts.
He just chuckled. Her dry sass was one of the things he loved most about her.
"So what's the big news?" she asked, her features brightening again. "I can't wait to hear whatever you're here to tell us. And I'm glad you asked for a family dinner to share it, so I get to see you."
Nick rolled his eyes. He faithfully came for a family dinner every other Sunday. "Like you don't see me. I come by!"
"Not enough."
He groaned and nudged her gently with his elbow. "Admit it, you're just happy to have an excuse to cook something special."