Page 70 of Holiday Heir

"Mama." I cut her off gently, exhaustion finally catching up with every single thing that's happened today. "I got it wrong. I know it's going to take you a while to process that, but I'm the one who got it wrong, not him. I'm not keeping Charlie from her father anymore. And tomorrow, we're telling his family."

Her mouth opens, ready to argue, and I hold up a hand before she can speak. "Please. Get on board. Fast."

Her mouth closes.

Some more of the fight drains out of my voice. "I'm putting Charlie down and going to bed. It's been a long day. I love you." I press a kiss to her cheek before she can respond, and carry my daughter down the hall to the room that's felt like ours for exactly one strange, upside-down day. I lay her gently in the bassinet and stand over her a long moment in the dark.

Carla and I drove out of this town certain we'd never let Jagger or Mason anywhere near us again. I almost laugh at how little we knew about what was coming. And I thought I'd built something sturdy enough to survive on its own, no father for Charlie required.

Now, I'm not sure what to think. Every protective wall I built one brick at a time lies in pieces around me. Not one single piece of it makes sense anymore.

Tomorrow, I'm walking into a house full of strangers who share my daughter's blood. Underneath the terror of that, there's a small, stubborn flutter of something that feels dangerously close to hope.

And that scares me more than anything.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jagger

All night, I rolled over every ten minutes, staring at the ceiling and counting down the hours until I had an excuse to see Lainey and Charlie again. I finally gave up sleeping around three. I got up and sat at my kitchen window.

For the last few hours, I've been staring at the darkness toward the guesthouse. The never-ending loop of yesterday's events stays on play and I can't seem to switch it off.

Lainey is here.

I have a daughter.

Two sentences, and neither one of them feels real yet, no matter how many times I turn them over. My chest keeps doing this stupid, lurching thing, equal parts joy and terror. I might as well have swallowed a live wire. I can't decide if it's going to light me up or knock me flat.

I keep picturing Charlie's face. The shock of red hair and the way her fist curled around my finger like she already knew whose hand it was. Or how she lightly snored while sleeping, then would sigh whenever she stirred. And my heart lights up every time I think about how she curled right into me with a tiny curve on her lips.

Yet guilt sits heavy under all my awe and pride. It's a stone I can't shift no matter how hard I try. I missed Lainey's entire pregnancy. I should have been there to help her prepare and to help her however I could. Plus, I missed her birth and first six weeks, probably a hundred small miracles I'll never get back. The loss sits in my throat like something I swallowed too fast and can't cough loose.

Anger's also there. Some of it's worn smooth from carrying it so long. But some of it's fresh and pointed at Lainey, even though I can't blame her for not trying to find me.

Stupid town gossip.

Past the anger is hope. The kind I haven't let myself feel in months, maybe longer. It's the kind that makes a man get up at three in the morning and stare into pitch-blackness.