The Seal's Second Chance Baby. Laura Marie Altom
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taken.” She fished the baby’s favorite rubber whale teething toy from the diaper bag and set it on the high chair’s tray. “This engagement happened so fast. The wedding’s the third week in October. My head is spinning.”
The waitress came and went with her tea. Effie added plenty of sugar.
“What if we divide and conquer?”
Effie wrinkled her nose. “You mean like Mabel and I handle flowers and you and your grandfather tackle beer and wine?”
“Exactly.” He leaned in. “You have no more time or desire to be around me than I have to be around you. This way, we make Wallace and Mabel happy without the two of us being miserable. Sound like a plan?”
“Sure.”
The waitress arrived with their meals, and Effie dived in, closing her eyes while savoring the gooey cheese.
But upon glancing into Marsh’s hooded, dead-sexy gaze only to realize she wasn’t miserable, she swallowed and then froze. What had she just agreed to? It wasn’t as if she craved seeing the guy, but now that she’d lugged Cassidy and her gear into the real world outside her grandmother’s modest home, she recognized that along with the café’s food being far tastier than her own, she’d been tapping her toe to the lively music. Her baby girl grinned from all the neighboring diners’ waves and silly faces.
Marsh might have admitted he was miserable, but she was far from it. Breakfast out was actually kind of a fun treat.
As for the view across the table? Whew...
Even brooding, Marsh Langtree’s chiseled features were ridiculously easy on the eyes. Proven by the fact that she wasn’t the only woman staring. How could his wife have left him? He seemed like a stand-up guy. Why had the death of their son driven them apart instead of bringing them closer?
Her cell rang.
One glance at the caller ID snapped her from her thoughts—Admiral Byrd Elementary.
“Need to get that?” Marsh asked.
“Unfortunately.” What had Colt done? Dipped a girl’s braids in paint? Freed the occupants of the teacher’s hamster cage or ant farm? Effie steeled herself for the worst. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Washington? I’m sorry to bother you, but—” Effie recognized the voice of Samantha, the school office clerk.
“What did Colt do?”
Samantha laughed. “Actually, nothing. The twins’ teacher just wanted me to see if you’re available next Thursday for a brief field trip. The kids are learning about money, so they’ll be walking to the bank at the end of our block. Mrs. Logan is desperate for volunteers.”
“Please tell her I’d be happy to help.” Effie released the breath she’d been holding.
“Perfect. I’ll let her know.”
Upon disconnecting, Effie couldn’t help but smile.
“Good news?” Marsh asked.
“In a roundabout way.” She skimmed her palm over Cassidy’s soft blond curls. “My twins are a handful—well, mostly Colt. He’s oldest by three minutes, and always in trouble. This school year couldn’t have come at a better time, as I’m in sore need of a parental breather. Anyway, during kindergarten, I got far more calls than I would have liked from the boys’ teacher, and with today being the first day of school, I saw the caller ID and assumed the worst.”
“But everything’s okay?” He held a bacon strip to his lips, causing her tummy to flutter. When he’d been in the hospital, she’d stared at him for hours at a time, but he’d always been asleep. Now that he was awake, it was tough not to notice even more—like the way a fraction of an inch up or down at the corners of his mouth made him look happy or sad or devilishly sexy.
“Yes.” Or was it? Face flushed from her latest assessment of her companion, she focused on squirting ketchup on her hash browns. For the moment, her twins might have been behaving, but her overactive imagination certainly wasn’t. It was high time she focused more on this wedding and less on the best man!
* * *
MARSH COULDN’T GET away from Effie and her cute-as-a-button baby fast enough. He’d paid the bill, and Effie was back on her phone, gabbing with someone about healthy school snacks, when the baby dropped her toy. In the moment, he found himself back on parental autopilot, reaching to the floor to get it, then dipping his napkin in his water to wipe the whale clean.
He returned it to Cassidy, and her smile filled him with the kind of awe and wonder he’d long ago had for his son. He never would have pegged himself for the kind of guy who liked kids, but not long into Tucker’s brief life, Marsh found himself wholly consumed with his son. What he ate, what he wore, what toys he played with. Tucker had been his world, and when he died... Well, for all practical purposes, Marsh had, too.
Effie’s crew was his first exposure to kids since Tucker’s passing, and Marsh found the experience to be all at once heady and cruel. He’d caught himself sneaking peeks at little Cassidy’s chubby pink cheeks and big blue eyes that matched her mama’s. When he bent forward to return her toy, he’d caught a trace of her baby-lotion scent, which led him right back to Tucker’s infant years, and to how much fun it had been to make boat noises while playing with his rubber fleet in the tub, then wrapping him in a big soft towel, lotioning him before adding a fresh diaper and PJs before rocking him and watching his wife, Leah, nurse before they’d tucked him into his crib.
Knowing he’d never again kiss his son good-night or play catch with him or watch him shriek at the beach while running from a crab was too much to bear.
He had to get out of there.
Away from Effie and her sweet baby girl and her talk about how relieved she was to have breathing room away from her boys when he’d have literally given anything for one more moment with his son.
In that instant, hearing Effie laugh over the fact that she was actually happy to be away from her kids filled him with irrational rage. Not with her, per se, but his particularly painful lot in life.
On autopilot, desperate for fresh air and the kind of quiet he could only find in the middle of nowhere, Marsh pushed back his chair, pressed his hat tighter on his head and left the diner and town.
Grief drove him to push his truck too fast, and back at his grandfather’s ranch, he followed the same trend while four-wheeling to the old homestead.
Only when Marsh had well and truly driven to the end of his world did he allow himself badly needed release.
He screamed at God.
Cursed fate.
He broke down and cried and wished that damned snake had finished what he’d started. Most of all, Marsh wished for a moment’s respite from the heartache stemming from being well and truly alone.
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