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“Sounds like a fairy tale.”
“What about you? Your husband?” Layla asks. Her tone is soft, as if she’s afraid her asking might upset me.
“Travis and I were different. We were friends first, and one day we were more. I can’t even tell you when it happened. Then, my father died, and the next thing I know, we’re getting married.” I pause, collecting my thoughts. “I loved him. He gave me the greatest gift I’ll ever receive.” I glance over at Madeline, where she’s still sleeping on Marshall’s chest. “It wasn’t a grand tale of love. It just kind of happened, and we just were.” It’s the best way that I can explain it. I loved him. Of course, I did. However, our love was uniquely ours.
“You’re young,” Sam speaks up. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re young, and there’s still time for you to find your fairy-tale love.”
“I agree,” Layla adds. “I’m not dismissing your husband and the love that you shared. I believe that everything happens for a reason. While losing him was tragic, maybe Madeline was his purpose?”
“You deserve a love that consumes you, Wren,” Aspen adds.
I swallow hard, pushing back the tears. “Maybe one day.” I’m not opposed to finding love again. I miss Travis every single day. He left me the best part of him, and that love that we shared will live on through our daughter, as for me. I’m open to finding love again. I am young, and surely being a widow isn’t how my story ends. Maybe when Madeline is older, and we’re more financially stable, I can think about getting back into the dating pool.
A whimper comes from where the guys are sitting, and we all turn our heads. Madeline is stirring. “That’s my cue,” I tell the girls. Placing my Solo cup of lemonade on the ground, I stand and head toward my daughter. As I get closer, I can see that Marshall’s eyes are still closed, but his hand is gently rubbing Madeline’s back.
“Shh,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he murmurs to her. “It’s all right.”
I watch in fascination as she quiets down. Her little body shudders as she sinks into him. With each step that carries me closer to them, I fight back the tears. My little girl will never know her daddy, and that hurts worse than losing him. Her losing him will always be the greater tragedy. I know from first-hand experience, losing your parents never fades.
I stop next to the lounge chair, and Marshall’s eyes slowly slide open and lock with mine. Neither of us says a word. I can’t seem to think as his blue eyes bore into my soul. There’s a connection that is flowing between us, one like I’ve never experienced before. My blood whooshes in my ears, and I know he has to be able to hear my heart as it threatens to beat right out of my chest.
“Hey, Momma,” his deep raspy voice greets me.
“Hey.” I swallow thickly. “I can take her.”
“We’re napping.”
I know. I’m suddenly jealous of my daughter. She doesn’t realize how lucky she is to be lying on his toned muscular chest. “She’ll be waking up soon.”
“Why don’t you lie here with us?” He pats the side of the lounge chair. There’s plenty of room for me to snuggle up to them, but I won’t.
“Thanks for watching her,” I tell him, ignoring his offer. Instead, I bend down and lift my daughter from his chest. She stretches, and her eyes blink open. Me? Well, I’m trying to ignore the fact that my fingers feel as though they’ve been lit on fire, just from the soft brush of my skin against his chest when I picked her up.
“I need to change her.”
“I’ll grab the bag,” he says. He’s standing and tossing the diaper bag that I didn’t realize he moved beside his lounge chair over his shoulder.
“I can get it,” I tell him.
“This is momma’s day off, right, Maddie?” She gives him a gummy smile, and he seems to melt from that simple act. “There’s my girl,” he says, running his index finger over her cheek.
“Where can I change her?” I ask him, working hard to disguise the swell of emotion in my throat.
“Let’s use the back of my truck.” He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to a large deck box. “There are blankets in here. Mom thinks of everything,” he says, reaching into the box and pulling out a weathered quilt. “We can lay this down on the bed so it’s softer for her.”
I nod because what else can I do? This gorgeous man and his family have been so great to me, and my run-in with Marshall led me to Aspen, and the girls, my new friends. It’s because of him I feel a lot less alone in this big world. He leads us to a large black pickup truck. “This is me,” he says, lowering the tailgate and spreading the quilt. “All set,” he says, placing the diaper bag beside the quilt.
