Love Is Always Write Volume 4

rambling white thing with a porch and a good front yard. Okay, the kid would have room to grow. Better than China and her brood managed. Seven kids and they usually lived in apartments.
    The guy who opened the door was a mess. He was a couple inches shorter than Greg's own solid 6 foot frame, had dark, tousled hair, a stained blue denim shirt over a plain white undershirt, and a baby in a sling. He sure didn't look like he'd been expecting company.
    The baby-holder looked Greg up and down, an expression of loathing on his face, as if Greg was the one with the smear of baby gunk on him. Not for years, and certainly never on his crisp business shirt. Greg forced himself to meet the guy's brown eyes for a second, but then he was drawn to the fuzzy head peeking over the top of the baby sling.
    The guy holding Greg's niece gave Mellady a half-hug and stepped back to let them in. That baby on his chest was Greg's flesh and blood. He should be the one holding the baby. He felt a flash of resentment, as if the guy had come into their lives and stolen something, even if Mellady was the fool who'd given it away.
    And this was particularly stupid because he wanted nothing to do with taking care of kids. He'd paid his dues.
    As Greg stared at the bump on the guy's chest, something waggled in his peripheral vision. Oh, the guy had put out his hand.
    "I'm Stefan."
    Italian? Maybe. "Greg."
    Stefan had good strong hands. A good, strong face. And Greg had already noticed those eyes. He didn't want to be attracted to him, but it didn't help that Stefan had lost the wariness and seemed to have real warmth in eyes. Despite the wide smile, Stefan looked exhausted, or sad.
    Mellady had wandered into the house without being asked. "You're all set up," she said, sounding delighted. "The place smells great. I thought for a minute we'd picked the wrong day, because you don't look ready for a party."
    Stefan glanced over his shoulder at Greg before following Mellady. "Yeah. I am. I will be."
    Mellady kept wandering. The girl had no manners. Greg trailed after them both, looking around at the large, airy room filled with plain wooden furniture. Mission style he thought it might be called. In the room next to this one, a huge billiard table took up most of the space. It had a changing pad on it and no sign of the balls or cues.
    "We're early?" he asked Stefan.
    He shook his head and gave a laugh that sounded forced. "A bit but I'm just not ready. You know, life with a baby isn't always smooth-running. Not that I'm complaining," he said quickly. "I love Emily."
    "It's spelled E-M-I-L-Y" Mellady said, grinning at Greg. She always teased him about how much he wanted to blend in. The girl spent most of her life teasing him.
    "Nice name." Since Greg spent his early life spelling his name, he appreciated normal. His mother liked messing with names—changing a vowel here and there, or adding an extra consonant. He'd started life as Graggery.
    Mellady loved her name and sometimes added an apostrophe.
    "So where's Phillip?" Mellady called from the kitchen.
    "Ah, well." Stefan put a hand protectively on the baby's back. Greg couldn't help staring at the hand that almost completely covered the small body. Strong, tanned and with a light sprinkling of hair, that was the hand of a worker, not an office clerk. At least Greg could pretend he gawked at the baby.
    "Phillip's your, um, husband?" He tried to say it casually, but he still wasn't used to the idea of two husbands.
    Stefan's brows drew together. "No," was all he said.
    His nervousness told Greg something was really wrong. Greg, who had a nose for these things, wondered if they were going to stumble over a corpse in the kitchen. Mellady gave him a scowl and mouthed, Remember. No asshole.
    She was ten years younger than he was, he basically supported her, but she still managed to treat him with a kind of disrespect the older kids didn't attempt with him.
    She was his favorite. And she hadn't called him when she was in trouble. It still hurt.
    They went into the kitchen. Nobody on the floor, just really delicious scents, and his stomach rumbled. Something roasted in the oven, and whatever it was smelled amazing.
    "What can we do to help?" Mellady said. "Want me to take Junior?"
    Stefan glanced down at the baby, then at the stove. He obviously didn't like cooking with a baby attached to him, but Greg could tell he didn't want either of them to get their mitts on the baby.
    "No, that's fine. Thanks. I