Claim My Baby (Crescent Cove 2)

“Promise me this won’t change,” I said urgently.

“What?” She let out a nervous little laugh, the kind I rarely heard from her. No matter what, Ally had her shit together. “You want me to promise to always fix your ties? Okay, I can do that—”

“No. I want you to promise we’ll still be this way together. That just because I have a wife now, we’ll still be like…this.” I gestured between us with my free hand. “That you won’t pull away.”

She laughed again, averting her gaze. Telling me without words she’d intended to do exactly that.

“We’ll always be friends. But your wife will be your best friend now. As she should be. If you’re worrying about me, don’t. I’m good.” She tried to shake off my hold, but when that didn’t happen, she shook back her hair instead. “I’ve got it all handled.”

“What if I don’t? I don’t want this to change. Fuck, Al, you’re my best friend.”

Gently, she pulled away. “We’ll always be friends,” she repeated. “I better get to my seat. It’s almost time. Break a leg, Hamilton.” She flashed a weak smile. “Or whatever you say in times like this.” She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “I’m so happy for you.”

She was gone before I could reply.

I reached up to cup my cheek. My skin was still tingling from her lips.

She hadn’t promised me. The only promises I could count on now were my own. The ones I’d already made to my unborn child, and soon, to my wife.

I would do what was right.

Chapter 1

Ally

I hopped back a good three feet, but it was way too late. “Aww, come on.”

I stared down at the puddle of coffee dripping from the worn Formica tabletop to the red vinyl booth. The cracked pot in my hand held a jagged edge that could be a prop in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Right down to the coffee-stained orange lip.

If I had to sacrifice my last pair of white Converse sneakers to the coffee gods, at least it should’ve been goddamn full octane coffee, not decaf.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Diggs. Don’t move, okay?”

Mrs. Diggs, one of the diner’s regulars, shuffled to the end of her booth and cupped her mug in her manicured hands. She picked up her feet—clad in bright orange and white sneakers—as the coffee raced toward the wall of windows.

I winced. Dammit, the baseboards needed a scrub again. Maybe I could convince Mitch to let me stay late or come in early one day. I’d been picking up as many shifts as he’d allow me to, but at least if I did this it wouldn’t require talking to people.

I was pretty much talked out.

“Are you all right, dear?”

“Fine. I just don’t want you to get cut, okay? Give me a quick second and I’ll brew you a fresh pot.” Disgusted, I dropped my threadbare towel over the glass and scraped the shards into a pile as I shimmied my way out from under the table. “Sage, can you grab me another towel?” I hollered over my shoulder.

My best friend’s head popped out from around the corner. I gave her a rueful smile as I lost the battle against the river of coffee.

Sage rushed over with a pile of towels and crouched beside me. She blew a honey blond curl out of her face. No matter how many pins Sage Evans jammed into her twisting pile of curls, one invariably escaped. Luckily it only enhanced her heart-shaped face and huge green eyes.

“What happened?” She started mopping up the escaping coffee.

“Careful.” I grabbed her hand just before a hook-shaped shard of glass took a chunk out of her palm.

“Jeez, what did you do?”

I set what was left of the pot on the table. “One too many times left on the burner while empty is my guess. I barely tapped the side of the table and pop-crash.”

“Coffee.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Full pot no less.” I managed not to let the growl or the string of swear words free as I reached back under the booth and mopped up the coffee under Mrs. Diggs’ feet. “Okay, you’re set.”