Page 69 of Dissonance

“You expected me to say no,” he says, matter-of-fact.

I open my mouth, then close it. Because yeah…I kind of did. In the two weeks since the ultrasound, we’ve fallen into this rhythm. Dinner at his place more nights than not, late evenings at mine, where the movie he puts on goes mostly unwatched because we end up talking instead, coffee every morning without either of us naming what we’re doing.

Still…family is…different.

And when he spotted me scrolling through gift ideas, clearly losing the battle against yet another toy Izzy would abandon in a couple of days, I’d asked almost offhand, “You could come with me if you want?” And he had.

Passing him the box, I climb out of the car, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress, hyperaware of everything all at once; the noise coming from the house, the tiny bump hidden by loose cotton, the fact that my entire family is inside, and I’m about to walk in with the father of my child, having told absolutely no one a single thing.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” I mumble, mostly to myself.

Lockie steps closer, hand coming to the back of my neck, thumbs pressing small circles along my hairline. Letting my eyes drift shut, I breathe him in, cedar and clean soap cutting through my nerves.

“It was meant to be dinner,” I say again when we reach the front door.

“Relax, lass,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “It’s just a five-year-old’s birthday party.”

Before I can overthink it further, he shifts the flowers under his arm and reaches past me for the doorbell.

“Too late now,” he says as small feet thunder from inside, the door flying open before a bundle of red curls launches itself straight into my legs.

“Aunt Thea!” Izzy screams, wrapping both arms around me and squeezing tight. “Look! Look!” She lifts one foot proudly while thrusting the doll in her hand into my face. Pink sparkly shoes match the tiny ones of her doll, glitter flashing in the sun when she wiggles, giggling, delighted with herself.

“Very pretty,” I laugh, looking up just as my sister-in-law rushes into view, looking frazzled.

“You came,” Jess beams, brushing back her daughter’s curls and leaning down to say, “Go finish up in the yard, baby.”

Izzy gasps, taking off in a run toward the backyard, her doll bouncing off the floorboards.

“Sorry, she decided last minute she wanted a party after all. The last of her friends are just leaving.”

Jess’s eyes move from me to Lockie, her smile pulling wider as her gaze sweeps over him. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.”

My mind goes completely blank. I’d been so focused on how to hide my pregnancy from my father today that it didn’t even occur to me that I’d need to explain him.

“This is—” I stop, glancing back at him. Jess’s eyebrow lifts slightly, eyes moving back and forth, lips pressed together as she waits.

“Lachlan,” he says, stepping forward and offering the flowers. “But everyone calls me Lockie. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, these are gorgeous.” She buries her nose in the bouquet. “Anyone who shows up with flowers is welcome in my house.”

As she catches my gaze over the stems, I swallow the sigh that wants to come out. I know that look. We’re absolutely talking about this later.

“I hope this is okay,” Lockie says, holding up the gift bag. “I’ve been told it’s what all the kids are asking for.” His eyes land on me. “According to Declan’s little sister anyway.”

He asked around. He didn’t just choose a generic gift; he actually thought about it, about her, about what a five-year-old he’s never met might want. My eyes sting, and I have to look away, blinking hard, absolutely refusing to cry in my brother’s hallway over a birthday present. But the pregnancy hormones don’t care what I tell them.

Izzy skids back into the hallway, planting herself directly in front of Lockie, head tipped so far back she nearly topples over.

“You’re big,” she says.

He looks down at her, nodding. “Aye. So I’ve been told.”

She studies him with the gravity only five-year-olds can manage. “Can you lift me?”

“Izzy, leave the poor man alone,” Jess chides, but Lockie doesn’t seem to mind. He sets the gift bag on the entry table and scoops her up. Her giggle ricochets off the walls, her legs kicking wildly.

“Again,” she commands the second her feet touch the floor. He sighs like it’s a hardship, his biceps flexing as he picks her up once more.