Miller's Time (Southern Charmers 2)

Runner’s depression takes a turn as soon as we arrive at Miller’s and Austin and Andrew are tossing a ball, waiting in the front. The dog leaps over me to get to them, joining the fun.

Mom and Dad are sitting on his small front porch, watching and looking very much in place.

“How is she?” Mom asks as soon as I hit the stairs.

“Awesome. Stephanie talked to her about five minutes ago and said she’s still holding out on the epidural because things are comfortable.”

“She’ll know when it’s time.”

“Hell, Pierce should make a stand. Never in my life wanted to wring your neck as much as when you were in labor,” Dad barks at her.

“Pierce can’t make her do anything,” I point out sternly.

Miller chuckles, and Dad shoots him a knowing look. “Yeah.”

“Guys, I know this isn’t what we expected, but I can hang around and make dinner if you’d like. I hate to ruin our last night together.”

My mom jerks back, appalled. Dad’s face goes hard.

“Honey, I get you’re stressed, but that’s a ridiculous thing to offer. This is family. We may be new to the Kendricks and Grahams, but we know family. We’re perfectly capable of cooking our dinner and entertaining ourselves.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“And while we’re on the subject, we extended our stay at least a day. We want to meet the baby when Darby is up to it. Brasher was exceptionally amenable, offering as long as we like.”

“Doesn’t everyone have to get back to work?” I pivot to my brothers who are now close.

“My boss is cool,” Austin answers on a chuckle, pointing at Dad.

“I’m good, have my computer if anyone needs me.” Andrew takes pity on a dancing Runner and tosses the ball high in the air for him. “Besides, I’m not missing the chance to meet little Andrew. Darby has a thing for me. She’s probably naming her firstborn in my namesake.”

Everyone takes it as a joke, laughing along. And I try hard, but I can’t cover the knot in my throat. For years, I stuck to a strict schedule, never once overstaying my trip’s homes, citing the importance of being in the office. Billing my hours, managing my clients, attending stupid partner meetings, hoping to be recognized.

My great-grandmother died, and I was on a plane four hours after her service because I couldn’t fathom missing the annual client appreciation event that they expected me to attend.

No one cared how much I loved my Gamma; they cared if my ass was in Chanel, schmoozing to land the next multi-million-dollar merger with my firm.

It hits me with so much force, the realization of what’s happening—Miller’s beautiful declaration of love, Darby clutching onto me as she felt the tale-tell signs of her baby coming, the past few days and nights, the previous months…

“Miller, man, I think you better get her,” Dad says, but I barely hear.

I can’t stop the tremors that take over right as I let out an unflattering wail, tears pouring out. My hands fly to my face as I’m hoisted off my feet and in Miller’s hold.

“It’s been an emotional few hours,” he clarifies. “She needs a shower and possibly a shot.”

“You do what you need to do for her. She’s been living in a state of loneliness for so long. We expected this,” Mom praises.

“I’ll handle the shot. Saw the tequila earlier,” Andrew offers.

“I’m okay,” I choke out.

“Sure you are, baby. Go get a shower. We’ll be here when you get out, and we’ve got Runner,” Mom soothes.

Miller moves us across the porch, and I cling to him, trying my best to hold back the sobs bubbling in my chest.

“I got you, baby. Let it go.”

“This is family, my family!” I spew out.

He stops, places his lips on my forehead, and kisses lightly. “No, Princess, this is our family.”

Chapter 18

Miller

Ashlyn tiptoes around the bed, clicking picture after picture on my phone, and I hang back wondering why the hell she’s insistent on getting so many of Darby, Pierce, and the little blanket covered baby, all sleeping together in the hospital bed.

As if she senses my question, she glares at me and places her finger to her lips.

I throw my hands out in defense.

She stomps silently.

Pierce stirs, sliding his arm across Darby. “Baby, we can stop pretending. Miller’s losing patience.”

Darby giggles and Ashlyn beams daggers at me.

“You good, man?” I step up to the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” His blue eyes are so full of peace it settles over me. “This time, right here, it’s what a man can only dream about.”

Darby nuzzles into him, sighing in contentment and moving the baby to his chest. Ashlyn’s breath hitches, and I know she gets it.

Years ago, we did this twice. Both times he was filled with hatred for himself and shame, it was hard to swallow. Today is a different scene. My new nephew may never leave their arms. And I don’t blame them one fucking bit.