He was too surprised to stop his chuckle. It was okay, though. She was smiling—a real smile.
“You like her?” she asked. “A lot? ’Cause, you know, Mom would be cool with it, I think.” She paused, sniffing. “And I’m cool with it.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t date her?”
“No,” he answered honestly.
“That’s stupid.” Diana frowned. “I’m sure there will be some days I’m not cool with it. Are you going to break up with her every time I have a mood swing? Jesus, Dad, grow a pair.”
He laughed again.
“I mean, if Nick doesn’t screw it all up—or that Jack kid—we could be a decent family.” Her head cocked. “Messed up, for sure, but isn’t every family?” She stood, unfolding and stretching her spindly limbs. “I’m gonna take a shower. Wanna watch a movie or something? I’m sort of wound up.”
He blinked. Calm. “I’ll make the popcorn.” Stay calm.
“Coolness.” She kicked off her boots and slid down the hall in her mismatched socks.
He sat there, processing. It was only nine thirty. He and Diana would watch a movie and eat popcorn, assuming she didn’t change her mind. But what was Felicity doing? Was she okay? And Nick?
He pulled his phone from his pocket and headed into the kitchen to make microwave popcorn. He typed in a dozen texts but never hit send. Finally, he asked, Everything okay? and sent it.
He was tossing in his bed well after midnight, waiting for a response.
…
Charity sat at the small wrought-iron table outside the local Scoops Ice Cream Parlor, a romance novel open in front of her. She knew the dark and brooding hero would woo the virgin maiden into a haystack at any moment, but her stomach was hurting, and she just wasn’t feeling it.
“Too much ice cream,” she whispered, dropping her spoon in the dish with a sigh.
But the pain only grew, sharp enough that she couldn’t ignore it.
“What’s up, kid?” Her hand rested on her stomach.
The stranger in her belly didn’t offer up an explanation, so she stood, deciding a walk around the small patio might be all she needed. She had been sitting for a while. “A little change is a good thing.” She paced, depositing the sundae in the trash and wandering back to her table. But now she was dizzy, too, so she held on to the back of her chair until it passed.
“You know, you’re making things difficult.” She stared down at her stomach. “I’m not complaining, though.”
Driving might not be a good idea.
Calling for a ride. Calling who? Felicity and Honor were a no. Her parents. A hell no. Grams was a terrifying driver during the daytime… Who the hell could she call?
She knew one person. Their on-again-off-again high school relationship was one of the few things she remembered with true fondness. He’d had the patience of a saint and, if she remembered correctly, had been a pretty good kisser. For all his big, silent, manly ways, he’d been a good guy. And since people used words like “reliable” and “solid” when he came up in conversation, it appeared he still was. Not to mention how incredible he’d been with Nick. Totally a good guy. He’d probably come. If she called.
“Sheriff Martinez?” she asked. “Or we drive.” Drive. Definitely. She was all about not needing a big, strong man to come to her rescue anymore. I got this. She tucked her book into her bag and headed to her car—where she leaned against the side, her stomach clenching.
Everything is okay. Everything is fine. We’re okay. But not fine enough to drive. “Fine.” She dialed the cell number on the card he’d given her earlier that night. Then hung up. Did she really need someone to drive her? Really?
Dizziness and cramping were perfectly normal during the first trimester. She knew because she’d read the pregnancy book until the wee hours of the morning. It had been fascinating. And terrifying.
“We can do this,” she said. “Just give me a minute.”
But her phone rang.
“You called?” Braden’s voice was monotone as ever. “Sheriff Martinez here.”
“Hey,” she mumbled. “I’m really sorry to call you, Braden. Should I call you Sheriff Martinez? Or Braden? You tell me.”