Have My Baby (Crescent Cove 1)

“Okay, you have to tell me.”

“Seth wants a kid.”

“He has a kid. A cute one, if a little bit of a handful.”

“She’s bright and funny and really wants a little sister or brother.”

Sage’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”

“He wants me to have it.”

“I’m sorry? Come again?”

“He wants me to give him a kid.”

“What? Like a piece of chocolate?”

I laughed. It was either that or cry. “So you see my dilemma.”

“Not really. You already want to play Boom-Boom Room with him. This sounds perfect. You guys would make a cute couple. I mean, he can be annoying, and the idea is a bit weird, but—”

“He doesn’t want us to be a couple. He just wants me to carry a baby for him and then hand it off to him like a fruitcake at Christmas.”

“Huh.”

“Yep.”

“I think we might need wine.” She rose and went to the fridge where a box of wine was stuffed down on the bottom shelf. She hauled it onto the counter and pulled out jelly glasses from the skinny cabinet.

When she set a glass in front of me, I took a swig of the sweet white wine. The shock on her face helped with my own insanity. It wasn’t just me who had a problem with the whole scenario. It was straight-up crazy.

So why couldn’t I just say no?

4

Seth

“No mo peas.”

Staring at my daughter’s stubborn chin as she shook her head in refusal of the healthy vegetable I’d added to our meals, I briefly reconsidered what I’d asked of Ally.

Did I really want another child?

Hell, could I handle another child? Basically on my own—along with the nanny I employed on workdays—since I didn’t expect Ally to be tied down. She could be as involved as she wanted in whatever capacity she chose, but I’d proceeded as if she would choose minimal involvement. Thinking otherwise made things sticky.

Made me itchy in ways I couldn’t define.

Now I had an almost four-year-old staring me down and a bowl of peas I didn’t even want myself. But good example and all that. And if I wanted another kid, good examples were the rule of the day.

God, was I crazy?

Dutifully, I spooned up my vegetable. “Okay, if you don’t want the rest of your dinner, as soon as I finish, we’ll get you upstairs for your bath. School tomorrow. Mrs. O’Connor said you’re drawing mermaids this week. That will be fun.”

“No bath.” Laurie pushed at her plate and inched back in her chair, step one in lurching to the floor.

She still wasn’t the best at climbing but she liked sitting at the big table without a highchair. As small as she was, she’d used one longer than some kids, but now she was done with it.

Done with everything judging from how many times she’d said no tonight.