Maeve

Cleo and Myla were sitting in awe in front of the hearth in the library, looking down at infants in their hands. Alison, Robbie’s mate, was holding Will, who was surprisingly well behaved as he peered up at the perfect stranger in whose arms he rested.

“I don’t know how I missed him,” Cleo whispered, looking down at Oliver with a soft frown creasing her brow. “I’ve never… Oh, Maeve, I am so sorry!”

“Cleo, none of this is your fault. ...