Excerpt!
Something’s not right. Veronica’s parents are acting weird.
When I show up this morning for my weekly Friday morning visit, they don’t have their usual list of tasks for me.
Instead, they invite me in for a cup of coffee and some teacakes.
Veronica’s mom, Sigrid, keeps giving me these nervous looks. And Frank, Veronica’s dad, won’t meet my eyes at all.
I know what to do in these situations, though. I’m the fourth of five brothers—plus our sister Amanda—so six kids. I’ve spent a lifetime learning that if you don’t know what’s going on, you should sit down, shut the fuck up, and open your ears and eyes until you can get the lay of the land. Then, and only then, can you figure out how to fix whatever’s gone wrong. Patch it up. Smooth it over. Peace-make the shit out of it. So I listen.
Sigrid, Frank, and I have been talking about the weather for the last fifteen minutes or so. Admittedly, that is a subject of super close interest to me right now. But still.
“So they’re not making any snow?” Frank says.
“On the lower mountain, a little,” I tell him. “But it’s not like you can make a whole backcountry’s worth of snow if the weather decides to make this the worst snow season in the region’s history.”
“Makes sense,” Frank says.
Both he and Sigrid are in their late seventies, and not in the greatest health. Frank lost a lot of mobility last year after a stroke. He can get around, but mostly with a walker. Sigrid has emphysema, and gets winded with the slightest exertion. So ever since Veronica and I got serious about each other, a few months ago, I’ve been coming over to their house to help out with anything I can—changing light bulbs, fixing minor plumbing issues, cleaning out the garage. It was my idea.
It started when Veronica mentioned that she worried nonstop about her parents staying put in their house, instead of moving into assisted living, and that she’d thought about hiring in-home care, but it was expensive, and her parents were stubborn. They didn’t want her to pay someone to put a safety railing in the bathtub! she told me, getting agitated.
I offered to install the bath bar. No big deal. The Wilder brothers may be outdoorsmen, but we were brought up to repair anything that needs fixing. So there aren’t too many around-the-house issues this handyman can’t tackle.
When I was installing the bath bar, I noticed that the tile needed regrouting, so I took that on. Then Sigrid asked if I could help her post some items for sale and giveaway online, since I’m a photographer. I was pleased to be useful, and didn’t fess up to her that it doesn’t take any special skill—or even my Nikon—to take those photos. And, well—the rest is history. I’m happy to help with repairs, and Sigrid is happy to bake for me.
Bonus: Veronica always thanks me for my efforts with lots of enthusiasm.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you guys today?” I ask. As much as I enjoy Frank and Sigrid, I’m so tired of talking about this disaster of a ski season that I’d rather watch The Fault in Our Stars again.
Frank and Sigrid exchange looks. The small ball of unease in my belly turns into a thorny tangle of nettles. This has to be bad. Grim health news from Sigrid’s Monday visit to the pulmonologist maybe. Or Frank had another small stroke—he’s had a series of minor ones since the big one last year.
“Kane,” Sigrid says gently. “We have something to tell you. We hate to be the bearers of bad news.”
Oh, shit. Cancer. Alzheimer’s. Veronica will be crushed. I wonder if she already knows? It’s strange that this news would come from her parents and not from her—but maybe they want me to help cushion the blow. Maybe they want me to be with her when they tell her—so they need to prime me first.
“Veronica wanted to tell you herself. She really did. But she’s not very good if she thinks there’s going to be conflict. She’s—she’s actually terrible at conflict.”
Sigrid and Frank exchange another look, and my brain desperately, and unsuccessfully, tries to keep up with this new twist.
Sigrid sucks in a deep breath. “She really cares about you, Kane. But it’s just not working for her.”
Wait.
Wait an effing second.
“Are you breaking up with me?” I demand.
No. This is not a thing. Adult women in their thirties do not have their parents break up with their boyfriends for them.
What happened in Vegas? Definitely didn’t stay in Vegas.
Gabe’s the oldest. Brody’s the bad boy. Clark’s the strong, silent warrior. Amanda’s the girl. And Easton—well, Easton’s the panty melter.
I’m Kane.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a bad job. But usually, I’m not the one people are talking about.
That’s about to change. Because the woman I had a smoking hot one-night stand with in Vegas? The one I should have stayed far, far away from, since women like her are my kryptonite?
She’s the same woman my brother just hired to redesign his fancy new glamping RVs.
I haven’t seen her since Vegas, but the instant I lay eyes on her, I can tell my quiet role as the boy-next-door brother is about to change.
She’s pregnant.
And it’s mine.
Author bio:
USA Today bestselling author Serena Bell writes contemporary romance with heat, heart, and humor. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen carefully, and you can often find her scribbling in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head.
Serena’s books have earned many honors, including an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, Apple Books Best Book of the Month, and Amazon Best Book of the Year for Romance.
When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of how often she changes her hobbies and how passionately she embraces the new ones. These days, it’s stand-up paddle boarding, board-gaming, meditation, and long walks with good friends.
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