Page 80 of His Surrender

“Almost home, Mr. Ledger.”

Louis’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

I blink toward the windshield. The familiar entrance to my building comes into view.

I straighten in my seat, adjusting my tie out of habit.

Friday. Sydney should already be there.

For Aubrey’s sake, I hope her friend succeeds in getting her out of the apartment this weekend.

Because clearly, I haven’t made it much of a home lately.

Liana lets out an impatient squeal against my shoulder.

“I know,” I murmur, shifting her weight as I shake another scoop of formula into her bottle. “You’re convinced I’m moving slower than usual.”

She rewards me by tugging at the collar of my T-shirt with surprising determination.

I chuckle under my breath. “I promise I’m almost done.”

The kitchen is quiet, the soft hum of the bottle warmer filling the silence, and then the elevator dings. For reasons I don’t fully understand, my pulse immediately quickens, and the doors slide open.

I turn around to see Aubrey step into the foyer first, rolling a suitcase-sized overnight bag out of the elevator before turning to smile at the woman behind her.

Sydney. Long blonde hair with confident posture. The kind of woman who carries herself like she belongs wherever she happens to be.

Aubrey spots me first.

“Oh.” She offers a small smile. “Dean, Sydney made it.”

“So I see.”

Sydney walks forward, extending her hand without hesitation. “You must be Dean.”

“I am.” I shift Liana onto one arm before shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

She smiles, but there’s something calculating behind it. Not unfriendly, but protective.

She’s studying me. Measuring every word. Almost as though she’s trying to decide whether I’m the man Aubrey described over the phone.

The realization settles uncomfortably in my stomach.

Aubrey talked about me.

I don’t know how much she told Sydney. Could be everything or maybe only enough to explain why things have felt so strained.

Either way, Sydney knows there’s a story here.

She glances from me, to Aubrey, then back again.

Her smile grows just a fraction. “So …” She folds her arms casually. “You’re the famous Dean.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Famous?”

Sydney’s eyes flick toward Aubrey for the briefest second. “She’s mentioned you.”