One
Sedona
A soft, warm breeze flows into the restaurant when the door opens, and all the guests turn toward the door to see who’s arrived. Jamison stands with his suitcase next to him, gaze scouring the space as though he didn’t just walk into a Bailey baby shower. My breath seizes and my throat closes up for a second before I react.
I shift eighteen-month-old Palmer behind me. She squirms, but my grip only grows tighter to keep her hidden in place. She hits my thighs, whining and not understanding, but I don’t budge. You’d think we were being held at gunpoint from the way my heart races and sweat beads along my back. My mama bear instinct has kicked in and it’s fierce. My free hand covers my swollen belly, his eyes follow my movement and his face drains of color.
My brothers and brothers-in-law line up shoulder to shoulder in front of the rest of us. Kingston’s in the middle, arms across his chest. He’s the most protective since he’s been playing the part of Palmer’s pseudo dad for the past eighteen months. She tried to call him daddy last week, and I had to have the conversation about how he’s her uncle, not her daddy. Thankfully, she got distracted and didn’t ask any other questions. I’ll never allow her to not know the truth of who her father is, but she’s too young to understand.
Then again, I never thought he’d be standing in front of me right now. I imagined that when we came face to face again, I’d have my life in order. I’d have my travel blog up and running, not still doing freelance work. I wanted to have my own house, not be living in my brother’s apartment. I wanted to be stunning and gorgeous, not thirty pounds heavier with swollen ankles and fingers that look like sausages. The only real physical asset on me right now is my breasts that have doubled in size.
“Hey, King,” Jamison says in his Scottish brogue. He’d lost a lot of his accent after living in America for so long, but it’s still there.
Half the guests gasp—I assume over the fact that he used my brother’s nickname. My brother’s wife Cleo reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.
Kingston’s stance widens, and Palmer continues to hit my thighs. I loosen my grip on her and she slides between my legs, running forward. I reach for her, but she wiggles out of her yellow cardigan and out of my hold.
Phoenix snatches her before she can break past the wall of testosterone, but Palmer kicks and throws her tiny fists at her aunt, whining and screeching. Phoenix glances at me, silently asking what I want her to do. I nod for her to let my daughter go. Let the bastard see her. See what he gave up.
Phoenix lowers Palmer’s feet to the floor as my entire family watches with rapt attention. I know my daughter and who she’ll go to, and I trust that he’ll protect her.
As I assumed, Palmer snakes around Kingston’s leg, peeking out from behind him. His hand comes down on her head as he looks over his shoulder at me, probably wondering why I’d allow this. But I nod. Jamison’s here. He’ll see her at some point, and it’s better for me to have my family supporting me when it happens.
Kingston scoops Palmer up in his muscular arms.
She signs to him. Who?
King looks to me for an answer, and I shake my head. So Kingston signs back. Nobody.
Palmer’s curiosity isn’t satisfied though. Why here?
Kingston blows out a breath, not happy to be in the situation I’ve put him in. This is my responsibility, not my big brother’s, so I step forward, but Phoenix’s hand clamps down on my wrist. I shake it off and go around my brothers’ defensive line. I guess I know where Palmer gets her unwillingness to listen.
“Don’t, Sedona,” Denver says in a soft tone.
I hold up my hand. “I have no choice. He’s here.”
We talk about Jamison as though he’s not right in front of us. His eyes haven’t left my stomach yet. Not even to look at the little girl in Kingston’s arms. The ironic thing is that I look much the same as I did the day I walked out on him. He had passed out on the couch, and like some sad movie character with my suitcase in hand, I gave him one last glance before shutting the door on that chapter of my life.
“Sedona,” Kingston says, and I turn.
Palmer signs at me. Mommy. Mommy.
I hold up my finger to her. When I turn back to Jamison, grabbing him by the arm to drag him outside, his eyes are locked on Palmer, his feet planted firm.
My heart gallops like a wild horse racing through the wilderness. I want to run over to Kingston, snatch Palmer out of his arms, and run away as fast and far as I can. Granted, that wouldn’t be fast or far with how pregnant I am, but still.
Tears fill Jamison’s eyes, and I look back at Palmer, who’s now fixated on her father. She’s too young to see what the rest of us do. Their shared blue eyes. Their same thin nose and thick wavy hair. Although her hair is darker than his, resembling more my shade, no one could deny she’s his. And there’s no doubt, with his full attention on her, he’s put it all together.
If he’s drunk like he was when I left him, he could think he’s warped back to eighteen months ago and I’m still carrying his baby.
He takes his hand off the suitcase he wheeled in and lifts both hands. Palmer focuses on him as if she’s watching the Lake Starlight baseball team. My girl loves baseball, something her uncles couldn’t be happier about. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she sees the resemblance, even at her young age.
Jamison signs to her. Hello. Nice to meet you.
My head whips to Palmer as she smiles, signing back. Hello.
Oh hell no. I grab Jamison’s arm again, pulling him out of Terra and Mare.
He follows without a fight this time, and I release him as soon as we reach the sidewalk. But seeing all the faces of my family plastered to the windows, I grab him again and move us farther down the sidewalk and out of everyone’s sight.
“Yer pregnant?” he asks.
“That’s obvious. What are you doing here?”
Now that the immediate threat to Palmer is gone, my gaze skates across him. I hate that my body isn’t listening to my brain. He looks good, healthy—and resembles the guy I fell in love with, not the guy I left. His cheeks are rosy, his body lean with muscle. His bright blue eyes sparkle, no longer dull and glazed over as they had been for so long.
Our eyes catch as though we both took a trip down memory lane, except I definitely don’t resemble the woman he fell in love with. I’m far from that seventeen-year-old girl he’d flirt with in the hallway of our high school.
“I’m here for you and our daughter.” He says it as though he can snap his fingers and we’ll grab our bags and be off. But that’s Jamison’s way. He got everything he ever wanted until he didn’t. And then he decided to destroy his life.
I cross my arms and his eyes dip to my cleavage. He probably forgot how big my breasts got with Palmer because a bottle of vodka was more appealing than I was in those days. “Sorry, we’re not available.”
“I’m clean,” he rushes out. “For a year.”
“Good. I’m happy for you.” It’s true. I might not love Jamison anymore, but one day, Palmer will want answers and I’d like to tell her that her father got his shit together.
“I never should have let you leave.”