Emily hangs her head a little and then looks up at Logan like she’s asking for permission. She signs and talks to him at the same time. “Should we tell them?” she asks. But she’s grinning. Logan smiles, too, and nods.

Emily takes a deep breath.

“You’re not sick, are you?” Matt asks, and I can see the love he has for both his brothers’ girls in his eyes. And, honestly, it makes me love him even more.

Emily shakes her head. She jerks a thumb toward Logan. “Your brother knocked me up,” she says.

The room goes silent. Completely silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

“What?” Matt asks, looking from Logan to Emily and back. He has icing all over himself yet he’s suddenly so serious. He points to Emily’s belly. “You’re pregnant?” he whispers.

Emily laughs and nods. “We’re pregnant!” she cries.

“So no more tossing her over any shoulders,” Logan warns, glaring at all his brothers. They’re getting to their feet, one by one. Suddenly, Matt jerks Emily toward him and wraps his arms around her.

“I’m so happy for you,” I hear him say softly as he swings her around. She giggles and holds him close to her, patting his back.

Matt sets her back from him and looks down at her belly. “You’re going to be the best mom ever, Em,” he says.

“I hope so,” she says quietly, laying a hand on her belly. The rest of the brothers come forward to congratulate them, and they rub Logan’s head and jab him in the side, while Emily gets lots of soft hugs. “Maybe she’ll be born perfect like her dad,” she says. She worries her lower lip.

“Or f**king gifted like you,” Matt says vehemently.

Emily sniffs and smiles at him, a watery grin.

“There’s just one thing I want to know,” Matt says.

He wraps an arm around Emily’s shoulders and looks down at her. I flinch when I see what he’s about to do, but she does kind of deserve it. His hand inches toward the countertop and he snags a cupcake. “Is the baby going to like chocolate or vanilla?” He brings it up and crams it into Emily’s startled face.

She sucks in a jerky breath.

“Booyah!” Matt cries, and he runs away from Emily. Logan drags a finger down Emily’s face, scooping up some of the icing and brings it to his lips. He laughs.

“Good cupcakes, Sam,” Logan says.

Sam chuckles.

“I’m going to go clean up,” Matt says, gesturing toward the bathroom. He goes into the bathroom and closes the door.

“Is he all right?” Emily asks Paul. She looks worried. She picks up a dish towel and starts to wipe her face, her gaze never leaving the direction in which Matt went.

“He’s fine,” Paul says. But his gaze lingers on the bathroom door.

I can’t help but be amazed by their family. They love and care for one another. I look at Seth, who has been watching with amusement. They remind me of how Seth is with the girls. They’re playful and loving, and they support one another. I suddenly want to be a part of this family more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want to be Matt’s family. And I want him to be part of mine.

Matt

Emily is f**king pregnant. Logan’s going to be a father. Emily is going to be a mother. I’m going to be an uncle. Again. I stare into the mirror and swallow hard to push the feelings back down into my gut, where they can stay nice and hidden. I don’t particularly like wearing them on my face.

I leave the bathroom door open since I’m just washing up. The icing is sticking to my beard stubble, though, and it’s a little bit difficult to get off. Emily knocks on the door. She looks ridiculous with her face smeared with icing. Even more ridiculous than I do. She licks her fingers as she walks into the bathroom and takes out a towel. She doesn’t say anything as she leans over the sink and gets it wet, and then starts to clean her face off, too.

Her eyes finally meet mine in the mirror. Her gaze darts away.

“You okay, Em?” I ask.

She nods and keeps swiping at her face. “This blue stuff is hard to get off. Need to tell Sam to use a different color next time.”

“Or next time, we can try not wearing it.” I snort. Like that will ever happen.

She shuts off the water and leans close to the mirror as she continues to scrub.

“Talk to me, Em,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“How did this happen?” I ask.

A grin tugs at her lips as her face colors. “Seriously, Matt?” she asks.

I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” I say.

“I know what you meant,” she says as she turns the water back on. But her face is clean, so I think she’s just looking for something to do to keep her hands busy. “You remember when I had my wisdom teeth out a couple of months ago?”

Of course, I remember. She looked like a chipmunk for a week.

“Yeah, antibiotics,” she says. She shrugs.

“You’re happy, right?” I ask.

“I couldn’t be happier.” Her eyes meet mine, and I know she’s not lying.

I brush her bangs from her forehead and squeegee a piece of her hair with my fingertips, removing a little icing. “What’s bothering you, then?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “What if he or she turns out like me?” she whispers. Emily has dyslexia and is nearly illiterate. She has to work really hard to do all the things that people take for granted, like reading street signs and menus in restaurants.