Page 30 of His Surrender

For some reason, I didn’t expect that. “I appreciate it.”

He smiles. “You’ve earned a break.”

Liana lets out a tiny squeak, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

Dean looks down at her with a grin. “I think somebody’s ready for some daddy time.”

I head down the hallway, quietly closing my bedroom door behind me.

The room is peaceful.

Sunlight has given way to the warm glow of the bedside lamps, and for the first time all day, the apartment feels completely still.

I kick off my sneakers and flop backward onto the bed without bothering to pull back the comforter. The mattress practically swallows me whole.

I stare up at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. I completely forgot how exhausting babies can be.

Not in a bad way. It’s just … constant.

Every minute is spent attending to them or anticipating what they need. Even when Liana was sleeping, part of my brain never stopped paying attention to her.

No wonder Dean looked like he’d aged five years in a week.

I can’t help but smile as I think about him asking what tummy time was.

For all his success, all the magazine covers and billion-dollar headlines, he’s just a first-time dad, trying to figure things out one day at a time.

My eyelids grow heavy.

I tell myself I’ll only lie here for five minutes. That’s all.

The next thing I know, someone is knocking softly on my bedroom door.

I blink a few times before pushing myself upright.

Did I actually fall asleep?

Another knock sounds. I quickly smooth my hair with my fingers before crossing the room and opening the door.

Dean stands in the hallway, freshly showered and looking nothing like the businessman who walked through the front door an hour ago.

His damp hair is pushed back from his forehead, and he traded his tailored suit for a worn gray T-shirt and black basketball shorts. Somehow, the casual clothes make him seem even more intimidating.

Or maybe just … more human.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks.

I shake my head a little too quickly. “No. I was just”—I glance back toward the bed— “resting my eyes.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I figured.” His eyes drift past me for a second before finding mine again. “I ordered dinner.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered … probably too much.” A sheepish smile crosses his face. “I have a bad habit of over-ordering. There’s plenty if you’re hungry.”

For a second, I hesitate.