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Tootie’s gaze held mine, concern etched into her features. “Have you thought about yourself, Duke? What do you want?”
I glanced at my family, my heart torn between loyalty to them and the growing affection I felt for Sylvie. “I want to be there for her. For them.”
Wyatt’s stern facade wavered, his eyes softening as he exhaled heavily. “We’re with you, Duke. No matter what comes next.”
Around the table, nods and reassuring smiles followed suit, a silent pledge of unity in the face of uncertainty.
“Do you think they know?” Lark asked.
A nod was all I could manage, the turmoil within me mirrored by the unease around the table. “MJ knows for sure. My guess would be they all do by now.”
I hadn’t heard from Sylvie this morning, and I hated it. My text wishing her good morning and checking in to see if she was okay had gone unanswered.
Annie grimaced. “She wasn’t at the Sugar Bowl this morning, but there waslotsof chatter.” She shook her head. “Everyone was talking about it. Rumors are that Russell King lost his mind.” She held up both hands. “You know how small-townrumors are—I’d take it with a grain of salt, but people were saying that he wasunhinged—breaking things and generally being an asshole.”
Beside her, my niece laughed, and Wyatt scolded her with another scowl.
My back stiffened. My chair scraped against the wood floor as I stood.
“Duke. Relax.” My aunt’s calm voice did little to soothe me. “We all know Russell is a hothead, but he wouldn’t do anything to harm his daughter. We’re all just a little shocked right now.”
I moved to the sink and planted my hands on the edge, letting my head hang before sighing and pushing off it. “Yeah, I know.”
Still, my gut told me something was off. I needed to talk with her. To make sure she was okay.
“Come finish dinner.” Tootie’s hand found my back, and I let her guide me back to the cramped dinner table.
Penny managed to commandeer the conversation, and I’d never loved that kid more. Still, I couldn’t think of anything besides Sylvie and how the hell we were going to figure this out.
Sylvie King is having my baby.
The singular truth in that statement was my only comfort. That, and knowing I would protect her with my life.
FIFTEEN
SYLVIE
Just a reminder that the appointment is at two.
John Oates
I’ll be there.
I stared at the text,wondering if I should finally update Duke’s name in my phone. Deciding against it, I slipped it into my apron, closed my eyes, and willed the fresh wave of nausea away.
The first week of October passed in a blur as autumn descended on Outtatowner. Beach visitors were slowly replaced by meandering drivers hunting for the signs of fall foliage, apple orchards, and pumpkin patches.
While Huck refused to serve pumpkin-spicedanything, I had convinced him to market toward the cozy fall vibes that drew new customers to the bakery. I was even impressed with the “Fall Leaves & Coffee Please” sign I had hand painted on the A-frame chalkboard on the sidewalk out front.
From what the four online pregnancy calculators told me, I was about nine weeks pregnant, andfuckthe exhaustion was real. So was the morning sickness that seemed to pop up out ofnowhere, especially if I got too hungry. My boobs were doing this weird tingly thing, and mood swings? Hello, Satan, good to see you again today.
My father was speaking to me only in flared nostrils and shitty comments. My three brothers had spent the last few weeks taking turns pretending the entire situation didn’t exist. Aunt Bug could hardly look at me without guilt-tripping me and expressing her shock and disappointment.As if I didn’t know.
All the while, MJ was my rock.
Well, MJ andhim.
Duke and I still texted and talked daily, but with the turmoil in my life, I kept my distance. He allowed me the space to navigate the minefield that was my dysfunctional family. I hated living in that house. Savannah was looking more and more like a faraway dream, but I saved a little more with every paycheck. I ignored the dread that washed through me when I thought about how I was going to tell Duke I planned to leave. That Ineededto leave. Instead of dealing with it, I shoved the thoughts into a compartment labeledFuture Sylvie’s Problemsand did what I could to make it through each day. I couldn’t walk three feet without sidelong glances and hearing whispers behind my back.
