Regina
The morning air in Rutberg was humid, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of a late-summer heatwave. It was barely 10:00 AM, an hour when the downtown area was usually just beginning to stir, but the neon sign of the Purple Unicorn was already humming with its characteristic electric buzz.
Floyd had insisted on a "private audience." He had convinced Dallas to open the doors early for a welcome baby party, before the usual Saturday crowd started bustling in and the music was too loud for a newborn. Stepping through the door felt like stepping into a different world—a purple world that smelled like expensive chocolate, whiskey, and floor wax.
Jeff followed close behind, carrying the diaper bag and looking entirely at home. Tucked into the sling against my chest, Evelyn was w
