“He called her a cheap floozy the night she died,” he says. “And he wants to minimize the fact she was poisoned. The worst part? Just saying that he’s relieved she’s not here so that she could always belong to him makes him sound like an obsessed psychotic.”
“I hate to say it, but you’re right.” We move to the music and the baby gives Noah a solid kick over his side, and we both share a warm laugh.
“Someone is either glad to see me or trying to give me the boot, in a show of loyalty to their father.”
My mouth falls open. “Noah, that’s the first time I’ve heard you even hint that this baby might be Everett’s, at least seriously.”
“I guess there’s always a chance.” A mournful look takes over his face. “I think a part of the reason I’ve been so staunch in my conviction is because, well, at the risk of sounding like an obsessed psychotic, it was my way of holding onto you a little bit longer.”
“Noah.” My body bucks with emotion as I reach up and give the scruff on his face a light scratch. “Even if this baby is Everett’s, you will never be able to evict me out of your life. I care deeply about you, and yes, I still love you.”
His eyes close a moment, and he looks as if he is genuinely drinking down those words.
“Thank you, Lot. I guess I needed to hear it.” He leans in and lands a careful kiss to my cheek just as a shadow appears behind him.
Everett gives Noah a tap on the shoulder, and soon I’ve traded partners.
“Lemon.” Everett’s lids hood, and his lips curve at the tips. “There’s something about you and me at a wedding that just feels right.”
“Agree,” I tell him, pulling him a notch closer by the tie. “You know, in a month from now, we won’t be able to go anywhere for the next decade solid without hiring a babysitter.”
“Why do you think the universe sent us Noah?”
“Everett!” A laugh squawks from me as I give him a playful swat on the arm. “I say we cherish every free minute from this moment forward. Especially our nights. According to the war stories from the frontlines, Lainey says we won’t sleep for six months solid. Just FYI, Josie is six months old, and her rebellion against the night is still going strong.”
“That sounds rough. Then we most certainly had better take advantage of our last few baby-free nights. How about we take a page from Mr. and Mrs. Fisher’s playbook and do a little role-playing tonight? I’ll be the felon awaiting conviction, and you can be the hot baker I can hardly wait to take a bite out of on my last night on the outside.”
The smile glides right off my face. “You’re hilarious. But I’ll go along with this fantasy, and it is a fantasy, Everett. I may not hold a law degree, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t spend a single day behind bars.”
His chest expands as he holds me tight, but Everett doesn’t say a word.
Everett isn’t going to prison on my watch. At least I pray he doesn’t pay for something foolish I led us into. I rest my head over his shoulder as I try to blink away the tears. Everett can’t go to prison. I’d leave the country with him if I had to.
How do you like that? I’d have mercy on Everett all day long, but I’ve spent the last couple of years mercilessly handing killers over to the sheriff’s department. But in Everett’s defense, he certainly didn’t kill anybody.
The only person I want to see behind bars any time soon is the person who thought it was a good idea to poison Verity Prescott—and the monster who is threatening my family via those wicked messages they’re sending to Evie.
And prison is exactly where they’ll be sooner than later.
Everett
Fiona called again and scheduled another meet-up at the bakery.
I didn’t tell Lemon why she was stopping by. There’s so much already spinning through her mind, I hate to redirect the focus on me and the looming legal debacle I’ve found myself in. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. She should focus on something positive like that. Definitely not me or whatever is about to transpire this afternoon. But I know exactly what Fiona is going to want to discuss.
Seeing that she’s not here yet, I’m seated right up front at the counter with Lemon, while her mother and sisters sit to my right ordering decorations for the Valentine’s Day spectacle Cormack and Cressida are throwing. And whenever Lemon takes off to tend to the customers, Miranda and her daughters quickly add in a few decorations for the surprise baby shower they’re throwing Lemon next month. I’ll admit, it warms my heart to see them so excited about the baby.
Miranda turns my way. “Has Lottie even hinted at what kind of a crib she’d like?”
“Not yet,” I tell her. “But I can have her look at a few. Don’t worry about the crib, though. I don’t mind picking that up for her.”
“Thank goodness that’s all you’ll have to buy.” Lainey shakes her head at the screen. “You won’t believe how fast this baby stuff can add up.”
“Oh”—Miranda looks my way again—“have you painted the nursery?”
“Not yet.” I wince. “But I’m on it. We’ve already narrowed down the color.”
Meg scowls over at me. “Don’t wait until the last minute. Knowing my sister, she’ll freak out if the house smells like fumes when it’s time to bring the baby home. She might run away to Noah’s if you pull a stunt like that.”
“Good point.” And God knows I wouldn’t want that.
I toast Meg with my coffee as a show of appreciation.
“Don’t forget”—Lainey swipes a raspberry tart off the tray before her—“we’ve got class tonight at the hospital. We’ll be getting down to the nitty-gritty, so you won’t want to miss this one.”
“There’s no way I’m missing it.”
But will I be missing a majority of this baby’s childhood? That I cannot promise.
A slew of customers walk in and along with them is Juliet Jackowski from the knitting shop across the street.
Lemon waves her over. “Hey, Juliet. How about some coffee and a few raspberry tarts?” She cringes as the words speed from her mouth. “Sorry. You probably don’t want anything to do with those.”
“I would love those.” The kind brunette brushes it off. “I know there’s nothing wrong with your baking, Lottie.” She catches a glimpse of the laptop in front of Meg. “Ah, I see you’re visiting the Craft Emporium. That’s like my second home.”
“Mine, too,” Lainey chimes. “Have you seen the Valentine’s Day display in their store? It made me want to buy it all up and redecorate my house in little pink hearts.”
The woman laughs. “Actually, I haven’t seen the display. I spend my mornings doing troubleshooting for the tech department. It’s funny because the knitting shop doesn’t feel nearly as much mine as that place does. But then, I’ve been with the Craft Emporium for the last eight years.”
Miranda shakes her head. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave. I bet you get a nifty little discount. If that were me, I’d end up turning in my paycheck right back to them at the end of the week.”