I glanced up at Zay, then walked over to stand next to him.
"You look good with a baby in your arms," he murmured.
I took his hand, careful with his fingers that were still wrapped in tape.
"Don't get your hopes up, Jones. I'm not the settling-down type."
"Want to bet on that?" he asked.
"Sure." I made a fist; so did he. We pumped three times.
I threw paper. Zayvion threw scissors.
I'd lost. Startled, I looked up at him. "Two out of three?"
Zay grinned. So did I.

Devon Monk

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