A New Home

A few days later, after Sinclair and I had time to plan, we invited Roger and Cora to our little house early one morning. We were both waiting outside, Rafe, dressed in blue and white, in my arms.

I grinned down at my baby, so pleased to finally be home and able to dress him in the clothes I'd ordered during my bed rest. He already had an amazing wardrobe, but of course, he hadn't been able to wear it—and heartbreakingly, he'd outgrown some of it while we were in the bunker.

"He's getting so big," I murmured to Sinclair, shifting Rafe higher.

"His personality is starting to shine through," Sinclair grinned, looking down at the baby.

"He'll be six feet tall in no time. My little linebacker."

"Better not," I grumbled, smiling down at my "little beachball baby." "He needs to stay that way for at least sixteen more years!"

"Don't count on it," Sinclair sighed. "I had a growth spurt early. He'll be taller than you by fourth grade."

"No!" I gasped, staring up at him in horror. My mate just shrugged, laughing, and then gestured toward the driveway where Roger's car was pulling in.

I took a deep breath as I watched them arrive. "Do you know," I said, "I've never actually seen Roger's apartment?" They'd been staying there for the past few days; Cora was happy to abandon her bland apartment.

"You're better off," Sinclair replied, raising an eyebrow. "Bachelor pad central."

"Neon signs?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

"Commemorative beer glasses?"

"Everything you're imagining," Sinclair sighed, putting his hands in his pockets as Cora and Roger parked and got out of their car, "and worse."

"Barf," I murmured, then looked back at my baby. "Don't worry, Rafe. We'll never let you live like that."

"Hi!" Cora said cheerfully, kissing me on the cheek before taking Rafe from my arms, cooing at her godson.

"What, nothing for me?" Sinclair grinned—clearly pleased she loved the baby as much as we did, but still teasing her.

Cora waved him off dismissively, while Roger kissed me and hugged his brother.

"Is there breakfast?" Roger asked. "Cora can't cook. I'm starving—haven't eaten for days."

"My skills lie elsewhere!" Cora called over her shoulder, showing Rafe the flowers sprouting in the garden.

"Sure," Sinclair said, laughing and gesturing toward the open door. "Come in. We made some changes; we're curious to see what you think."

"Really?" Roger asked as we went inside, Cora following with the baby. "You weren't satisfied with the blood-and-gore theme in your bedroom?" His mouth fell open as he saw the living room, completely redecorated in shades of blue and gray with luxurious brown leather furniture.

"Wow," he breathed. "You guys really worked fast!"

"Do you like it?" I asked eagerly, putting my arm around Sinclair as Cora joined us.

"I love it," she said, looking at the antique Audubon bird prints on the walls. "It's so simple, chic, and warm." She looked at me with love and jealousy. "You're so good at this, Ella," she sighed. "I wish I could do this."

"It's a gift," I said, laughing and tossing my hair over my shoulder. "Come look upstairs!" I grabbed her hand and pulled her and the baby with me, Roger and Sinclair following.

"I see you kept the stair lift," Cora murmured, laughing.

"Useful for Henry," I said, grinning over my shoulder as we reached the top. "Plus, very fun."

I pulled her into the bedroom, also completely redone in shades of white, beige, and blush. Cora gasped at the enormous bed, the cozy white fur rug, and the electric fireplace.

"Oh my god," she sighed, turning around. Then she saw the closet, completely refitted.

"This is incredible," Roger agreed, his own eyes showing jealousy.

I clapped my hands, delighted by their reaction.

"Though I have to admit," he said, turning to Sinclair, "this doesn't feel as you as the last room did."

Sinclair shrugged, smirking slightly. "We decided it was time for a change."

Cora frowned, peering into the empty closet. "Why is this empty? And where is all of Rafe's stuff? His changing table—his bassinet—"

I squealed as she figured out the surprise.

"We decided," Sinclair repeated, "it was time for a big change."

Cora stared, confused. But Roger gasped, understanding faster than his mate.

"Oh, my god," he groaned, stepping back and looking around, focusing on the painting above the fireplace—a subtle depiction of a summer storm above a forest. "No, guys—you didn't—"

"What?" Cora asked, coming to my side. I took her hand.

"We're moving into the palace, Cora," I said softly, beaming. "We did all of this for you."

"What!?" she gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. "What are you—what do you—" She turned, looking around at everything I'd chosen for her. A thrill of joy radiated through me as I watched her eyes fill with tears.

"We'll get you the baby stuff later," I said quietly. "But we thought…for now, you might want to just settle in."

"It's too much," Roger said, sitting heavily on the bed, shaking his head. "Dominic, we can't—"

"You have to," Sinclair shrugged. "Paperwork's finished. It's out of my hands—your problem." He clapped his hands together, smiling at his brother.

Cora stepped close, letting me hug her. "Ella," she sobbed, "I'm so happy to have a home, Cora," I whispered. "What we always wanted as kids. What we both have now."

She burst into tears; I laughed, holding her close, feeling my own tears fall. I looked at Roger, wiping his own eyes.

"Thanks, Dominic," he said. I grinned; the usually talkative brother was speechless. "This was…this was so nice."

"We love you, brother," Dominic said, patting his back. "You do have to name the kid after me, though."

"No way!" Cora protested through her sobs.

"Middle name," Roger murmured, smiling.

"For sure," Dominic laughed, and I did too. Our eyes met; I knew he felt the same—grateful for our siblings, excited for them, and happy to give them their first home.

"Thanks for getting me out of that apartment," Cora murmured into my neck, making me laugh. "It was so bad."

"Which one?" I grinned. "Yours or his?"

"Both," she sighed.

"Does this mean you two are moving into the palace?" Roger asked, taking a steadying breath.

"Yup," Sinclair replied, putting an arm around his brother. "Right after breakfast."

"Oh, so there really is food," Cora said, looking eagerly toward the door.

"You two," I said, shaking my head, walking with her to the door. "You're going to have to learn how to feed yourselves. And the baby."

"We'll play it by ear," she conceded, grinning. Then we all headed downstairs for our final meal in our house—or, I thought, smiling to myself, the first of many in Roger and Cora's.