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How could it be anyone else?
Eight
If the past week had taught me anything, it was that I was hopelessly inept as a father.
Or father-in-training? I didn’t even know what to call myself.
When Gina had come home from the diner last night, her arms full of grocery bags, Samantha and Sadie had competed over who was more excited.
That probably wasn’t true. I’d been the most excited of all. It hadn’t seemed to matter that I’d just seen her that afternoon. I couldn’t get enough of her.
We’d always spent a ton of time together. That wasn’t new. But watching her embrace my baby so openly, nuzzling her cheek and cooing to her, had kicked everything up a few notches.
And I wasn’t alone in my craving time with Gina. The kid almost always reached for her first thing.
I didn’t mind. Gina was so good with her. So sweet and patient in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever be.
I could already see myself in the baby. Just small things here and there. How her hair seemed so dark but wasn’t really under the lights. Her fierce expression when one of us corrected her for patting the dog too hard. Not that she could hurt Sadie, but we tried to set her on the right path. Gina still insisted our eyes were the same shade, although the baby’s eye color might shift as she got older.
Every day brought new changes. Just in the week since she’d been in our lives, she was already making more soun
ds. Gina talked to her all the time, and more and more, the baby tried to respond.
I tried to emulate Gina and kept engaging the kid, but it didn’t seem the same when I did it. I might as well have been an actor on the verge of being fired for being the worst dad ever.
On top of all that, tomorrow was Thanksgiving.
I usually spent the holiday with my dad and my brother before swinging by the Ramoses for dessert. I was no dummy. The pies those women baked were the best in the state. Especially Bee’s massive pecan pie that made my mouth water every time I thought of it.
Like right now.
But I still hadn’t told Bonnie about the baby. Or anyone else. Keeping the secret hadn’t been easy, since the Cove was a small, close-knit town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business, which could be homey and comforting on one hand and difficult and crazy-making on the other.
I had to tell my co-workers soon enough. Bonnie would be a good choice to ease myself in. She was such a strong, sensible woman, and she’d have great advice. If I wasn’t playing a modified version of house with her youngest daughter—minus a shared bed and a guarantee it would continue—I would’ve handled it already. But the possibility she would see me as some kind of Lothario had slowed me right down.
Until tomorrow anyway. I’d finally committed to confiding in her about my situation. If that meant she’d advise Gina to keep her distance from me, so be it.
Bee was my best friend. I trusted her with my life. She’d had understandable concerns about this situation, but she’d come up big in the clutch.
Man, had she ever.
As I turned into my driveway and parked, I just stared.
Speaking of holidays, my house looked as if Santa and one hundred of his elves had been busy. But no, all it had taken was one determined Gina Ramos. At least I assumed.
Lights were wrapped around the porch railings and strung around the door. Colorful bells swung lightly in the breeze, and a giant Santa head glowed in the front window. On the door, there was a cheery wreath. Candles flickered in most of the windows.
The show-stealer, however, had to be the enormous inflatable Grinch on my front lawn. Right now, he was half slumped over, clearly needing more inflation, and he looked a little out of place on the mostly green lawn. The snow had melted overnight from the surprising warm-up, but it wasn’t due to last too long. I could already picture him glowing brightly green against the blanket of white.
Samantha would be so excited. If she didn’t start screaming in fright.
I swallowed over and over, but nothing seemed to diminish the lump in my throat.
This was all new to me. My mom had taken off when I’d been too young to remember much. I definitely didn’t recall her trying to make Christmas amazing for Mason and I.
Ever since I’d hit adulthood, I had shoved the notion of family holidays beyond my given family into a deep, dark closet. Some people weren’t made for lasting coupledom and the whole deal with kids. And I’d been okay with it. More than that, I had believed it was best for me.
Now I was in early talks with my lawyer to make sure my daughter would remain mine despite any potential future legal challenges from her mother—unlikely or not. Preston had agreed to handle this situation for me, and he’d asked me today if I wanted to go so far as to submit paperwork to Samantha’s mother to formally sever her parental rights. I didn’t want to risk her coming back into the baby’s life and confusing her or worse, hurting her. As far as I was concerned, she’d lost her chance with her kid. She’d put her in a basket and left her on the porch of a dude she barely knew on a brutally cold night.
