The whole place was sweet.

But the master bedroom upstairs was what it was all about. Two full walls of windows, a corner fireplace, a private balcony you got to through French doors, and with the flora outside, it was like sleeping in a tree house.

A luxury one.

If the choice came about mingling households officially, I’d pick Toby’s place for Brooks and me to live. It was only two bedrooms (and a loft on the third story), probably smaller in square footage, but it was more me than the acres.

Him and me.

And the retro Christmas lights and the wreath would still work.

“You got a lock on that?” Toby growled into the string of thoughts I let myself have rather than losing my fucking mind.

But he was growling, and not the good way.

Okay . . .

How could he be pissed?

“Toby—”

“That’s the way shit gets done, oh, I don’t know, pretty much fuckin’ everywhere,” he bit out.

I was absolutely not a fan of the sarcasm.

I did not get the chance to share this.

Toby kept at me.

“You know somebody, you put in a good word. Trust me, every applicant for that position, if they knew somebody who knew Martin or Sandberg or Deats, and they caught one of them, they did the same.”

“Okay, but—”

He spoke over me.

“This isn’t small-town shit. This isn’t Gamble brothers shit. This is what you do. You need that job. You wanted that job. It’s decent pay. Good insurance. Steady hours. In Matlock. They would not hire you if you didn’t impress them. They’re not morons. And I didn’t offer them free oil changes for life. I said you were a hard worker. Smart as fuck. And he’d be able to count on you. I absolutely mentioned you were mine, so he could read from that that I got you, so it isn’t about pity for the single mom. But you’re a Gamble and my father coached him in Pop Warner. So this is also about respect and history. I did not lay it on thick, but he understood me. And that’s it, Addie.”

“You got me?”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

My voice was rising, and yes, it was perhaps a little hysterical when I asked, “I’m a Gamble?”

“You at my place yet?”

“Yes.”

“Right now, walk to the guest room,” he ordered angrily.

“Why?”

“Do it, Adeline.”

I walked up the stairs to the guest room.

The door was closed.

I opened it.

One wall of windows. Much smaller. Its own bathroom.

And right then it was partially filled with a crib and a baby dresser and changing table.

There wasn’t a lot of personality there either.

Except the most adorable crib skirt, the mattress covered in a baby-blue sheet, and there was a blanket over the railing on the side that was like the skirt—blue bears, some black arrows and teepees, all on white.

“You there?” Toby demanded in my ear.

“Yes,” I forced out.

“Surprise. And Merry Christmas.”

I closed my eyes.

“Now, are you a fucking Gamble?” he asked.

“Toby.”

“What are we doin’ here? Tell me, Addie. Are you just fuckin’ a Gamble brother?”

Okay, I’d apparently hit a nerve with that.

“I just wanted it to be about them wanting to hire me.”

“And again, if they didn’t want you, they wouldn’t have hired you. But like you said, you have little experience in an office and I just wanted to remind them that historical ties bind if it was between you and someone else. You might have knocked their socks off. You have a way of doing that. You’re confident and radiate ‘I’m a chick who can get shit done.’ But in the end, does it fuckin’ matter? ’Cause in the end, you got the fuckin’ job.”

He was right.

And that sucked.

“I’m sorry, Tobe, my response wasn’t cool.”

“You got pride. Shit has been so copacetic with us lately, I forgot your independent streak. Which is not a bad thing for you to have, and it’s part of why I fell for you, just that I can’t forget it and gotta have a mind to it. So I should have told you I saw him and put in a word. Though, Addie, the minute you mentioned that job, I was already thinking of doing that. So I should have told you then.”

“It’s not on you I reacted like a bitch.”

“Yeah, it is, ’cause I know you. So maybe you shouldn’t have reacted that way, but you wouldn’t have if I’d told you what I was gonna do.”

“Still, Toby, I’ll get a lock on my independent streak when you’re trying to do something nice for me. Or at least talk things out before I say something bitchy.”

It took a minute before he muttered, “Obliged.”

I pulled in a deep breath and said carefully, “Um . . . the crib?”

“I want you in my bed and I don’t want us to have to fork Brooks off on someone else to have you there. I also like my place, so I like to spend time there, and when I do and I got Brooks, I want him to feel at home. But bottom line, he’s part of what we got, and he didn’t have space in my space. Now he does.”

While he spoke, I walked into the room and was standing at the crib, running a hand over the blanket when he was done.

“You were gonna show this to me when you got home, weren’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“I ruined your surprise,” I whispered.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. This blanket is insanely cute, and I feel the need to share how much I like how cute it is and do that in person.”

“I’ll be home in an hour. You can blow me after I get out of the shower. And I’m takin’ you wherever you wanna go to eat to celebrate you getting that job before we hit Lora’s. Deal?”

I smiled at the crib. “Deal, Toby.”

“Love you, babe. See you soon.”

“Love you too, honey.”

We disconnected.

I traced a blue bear in the blanket with my finger.

You’re a Gamble.

“Those boys really do not fuck around,” I whispered.

Toby had bought a crib.

And sheets.

For my son.

To be in his house.

As much as I loved that—and make no mistake, I seriously loved that—a thought I hadn’t thought in a long time came crashing into my brain.

It was a thought I had to think.

And it was a situation I had to deal with.

I finished tracing the bear, went back down to get my bag, and took it upstairs to shower grocery store smock smell off me and put in the work to glamorize myself for Toby.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

I was sitting on the other side of the black granite countertop in Toby’s (mostly) all-wood bathroom while Tobe stood at the basin (one of two) that he used, slicking product into his crazy-awesome hair.

He was wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

It was post-shower (for him and me, though I was already ready), post-blowjob (for him, which meant my carefully coiffed hair was now sex hair and I hadn’t gotten any . . . yet) and now he was getting down to business getting ready.