Page 31 of Promise

“Not yet,” she says. “I’m soaking up the Mimi snuggles.”

Mom had grandchildren in spurts. Cort’s son Josh is twenty-three and has a child of his own. Clint had Ruby James only six years ago. And now, Mirabelle.

I have concerns about attachment. Me. Mom. Anyone in my family growing too close to Mirabelle before legal matters are finalized.

Still, none of us can help loving such a sweet, easy baby.

Running her hand up Mirabelle’s back, Mom gives her a kiss on the head before playfully narrowing her eyes at me.

“Now, what’s this I hear about Dart being back?”

“How the hell did you hear that?” I shriek quietly, like that rumor couldn’t possibly be true.

“The Babbling Bean, of course.”

My mother loves to bake, and in her forties, she opened a coffee shop that serves a small selection of her favorite items, along with fresh brew. The uniqueness of her coffee counter is that it is also a bookstore, heavy on romance selections.

“He only got here yesterday.” Surprise laces my voice at how quickly the news has traveled. Drawing a looping design with my fingertip on the table, I avoid looking directly at my mom.

“And how are you doing with that?”

I toss myself back in the chair. “How the hell am I supposed to be doing?” I glance at Mirabelle in my mother’s arms, holding onto the truth of the situation for some reason.

How am I supposed to feel about my ex-husband not being my ex?

And how was I going to tell my mother my husband is still my husband?

My parents adored Dart.

Dad never had any reservations about Dart asking me to be his wife, even though Dart had been concerned Dad would not give his blessing.

Mom said she already considered Dart one of the family.

Which meant Mom had been crushed when Dart left. Thankfully, Dad had not been alive. He suffered a heart attack years before Dart took off. Dart never wanted to disappoint Russell Haven, who certainly would have been upset if he’d known what Dart did to us.

“Heard he’s staying at the house.”

My mouth falls open because that decision was only made an hour ago, and not willingly on my part. However, I didn’t have the heart to kick him out.

Whether that made me selfless or a fool was still to be determined.

His reason for gifting it to me comes back to me. His fears about homelessness and death.

Those fears make my stomach tighten.

I am angry with Dart. Pissed even, but I do not wish him to die. And I didn’t want him to feel homeless.

Images of him crushed against a cement wall, flipping a car, or burning in flames bursting from a crashed vehicle make me physically ill.

The thought of such torture causes me to shiver.

“I guess it’s his home, too,” I whisper, avoiding the knowing gaze of my mom. She’s aware that he gave me the house as part of the divorce settlement. Or so I thought.

Not as a protection plan in case of sudden death. Not because he was afraid for me and wanted to make certain I was taken care of.

I place my hand over my belly, gurgling with acid at the thought.

“What do you mean . . . you guess?” Her brows pinch, concern in that divot.