“Welcome to the family, son.”
* * *
Harper got to her parents’ house just after six o’clock, Darby and Luna greeting her when she walked in as per usual. She’d dropped Lune off before work since she and Liam were going to have a late evening with dinner and everything else.
“Hey guys,” she said, getting down low and scratching both of their heads.
“Harper?” Delilah called out.
“Be there in a second.”
She gave the dogs about another minute of a good rubdown before she straightened and headed for the kitchen. Delilah was at the stove, the cast iron skillet popping with oil.
“Hey, Mom.” Harper came up next to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek just as Delilah dropped a dollop of dough in the oil.
“Hey, sweetie.” Delilah leaned into the kiss.
It wasn’t like their relationship had done a complete one-eighty in the last couple of weeks, but they were working on it. It was definitely better than it had been, and her mother had accepted the fact that she was going to be a grandmother.
So Harper had that going for her.
“They back?”
“Yeah, about thirty minutes ago. They’re both getting a shower.”
“Separately I hope,” Harper said as she reached for an already cooked hush puppy.
Delilah turned and looked at her, not impressed with the joke.
“I know, I know. I did not get my sense of humor from you.” She grinned before she took a bite.
“Clearly you did not. It’s definitely from your father.”
“Has to be.”
“Mmm hmm.” She nodded as she dropped another dollop into the oil. “Hey, your father and I pulled a few things for Baby Girl from the attic yesterday. We put it in the room with all of the other stuff.”
Baby Girl. God, they were having a little girl. Every time she thought about that fact the most perfect, indescribable flutter ran through her belly. Though there were quite a few flutters lately. Baby Girl was moving around. Nothing drastic as of yet. No kicking hard enough for Liam to feel.
Harper knew how anxious he was for that moment to happen.
“Baby Girl?” Harper had to ask, as this was the first time her mother had addressed the baby with that moniker, and Harper would be lying if she said she didn’t love it. “That’s what we’re referring to her as now?” Harper turned, popping the last of the hush puppy in her mouth as she leaned back against the counter to get a perfect view of her mother’s face.
“Until you and that man of yours figure out a name.”
“That man of mine?” Those words sounded kind of perfect coming out of her mouth, and yes all evidence pointed to the fact that he was her man, but…but sometimes minds changed.
Where the hell had that come from? Harper was more than slightly shocked by that last thought, and it caused a painful pang in her chest.
She was just being ridiculous. It was just another small moment of insecurity. She shook it off and focused on her mother again.
“Yes.” Delilah’s face came up and focused on her daughter. No joking in her gaze to be found. “That man of yours. Anyone who writes a song about you has to be your man. Right?”
Right…the song. “I sure hope so,” Harper agreed. Actually those words were more like a prayer.
“It’s a good song you know. And it’s doing pretty well from what I’ve gathered.”
“It is.” She nodded still a little distracted, but then her mother’s words resonated. “Where are you gathering this?”
“The Google,” Delilah said entirely straight faced.
It took everything in Harper not to laugh. “The Google? Really?”
“Yeah, I know how to look things up. You know, not only is he talented, but he’s very photogenic. Not very many people look as good in pictures as they do in real life. He’s got fantastic genes.”
“He does. Good thing he’s the man I’m breeding with.” The smile that turned up her mouth was genuine…her small moment of crazy pushed to the back of her mind.
“This is true. At least you have excellent taste in attractive men. That you get from me.” Delilah looked over and grinned.
“I sure did. Can I go up and see what you pulled from the attic?”
“Go for it.”
“Thanks.” Harper leaned in and placed another kiss on her mother’s cheek before she turned and headed for the backstairs at the side of the kitchen.
The “storage room” was actually Harper’s old bedroom. It was the very last room at the end of the hallway, right across from the bathroom. The door was shut and the fan was going. She wondered if Liam was still naked behind that door. Drying off after he got out of the shower. For just a second she was tempted to knock and walk in there.
No. Stop it right this very second. You are in your parents’ house. Your. Parents’. House. No no no.
Holy hell, five minutes ago she’d been contemplating the idea that Liam might leave her…and now she wanted to jump him. Sometimes she wondered if it was the pregnancy hormones that were making her crazy or if she was just crazy.
It’s the pregnancy, she reassured herself as she veered off and headed to the left.
The door was partially cracked and when she stepped inside her old bedroom her eyes landed on exactly what her parents had pulled from the attic. Her heart flew up into her throat and that flutter ran through her belly again.
It was the antique cradle that she’d been rocked in as a baby, the very same cradle that her mother and aunt had been rocked in as well. The light brown wood was still in pristine condition even after fifty plus years.
She took a step forward, reaching out and running her fingers across the side, tracing the detailed woodwork. Lilies had been carved into the wood, wrapping around the entirety of the piece of furniture.
The corner of her eyes prickled, and when she blinked the tears fell down her cheeks.
The bathroom door behind her opened and she turned, looking over her shoulder as Liam stepped out, steam making a haze behind him. His hair was wet, a slight curl in the strands that hung low across his forehead.
“Hey,” she sniffed, reaching up and wiping her fingers across her cheek.
“What’s wrong?” He was across the hall and reaching for her within seconds.
“Nothing.” She shook her head, more tears falling with the motion.
“Then why are you crying?” Now he was the one reaching up, his thumb wiping away the fresh tears that tracked down her face.
“This.” She turned, her hand on the wood again as she traced the flowers. “My parents pulled it down from the attic. It was made in Italy, one of the few things my grandparents had shipped over when they moved to the States. Nonna Sofia loved lilies so Papa Jack had it made for her.”
“Sofia,” Liam said slowly, rolling the name on his tongue. He reached out for the cradle, too, his fingers right next to her and tracing the flowers on the wood. “What about Sofia Lillian?”
They looked at each other at the same time. A smile was turning up the corner of his mouth as his free hand went to her stomach, his palm flat on her belly.
“That’s it.” She grinned back at him, her hand covering his. “That’s her name.”
Liam leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers. “We just named our daughter,” he whispered against her lips. And then he was kneeling down in front of Harper, both of his hands on her belly as he leaned in. “We just named you. What do you think about Sofia Lillian?” he asked.
It was at that moment that it happened, a small pop hit the side of her belly. Liam looked up at Harper, his eyes going huge. “Did that just happen? Did she just kick my hand?”
Harper could only nod, the look of sheer joy on Liam’s face making her momentarily speechless.