Twenty minutes later, Amanda makes up the baby bed with clean sheets, then sets him in the master closet. “It’s cooler and quieter in here, which helps him sleep.”
She plugs in a nightlight just outside, in the adjoining bathroom, then leaves the master bedroom door cracked behind her. “We should be good for an hour or two.”
“I think you’re hidden here, at least temporarily. But have you given any thought to the idea that Oliver might be safer elsewhere?”
“There are a lot of pros and cons, no matter where he is.”
“Sure, but let’s be honest. No one is after him; they’re after you.”
She fidgets like she knows I’m right and hates to admit it. “Even so, I think keeping him with me is best for both of us.”
I’m not his mom, so I can’t argue her choice but… “Even though he’s more of a target with you?”
“No one else will risk everything to keep him safe the way I will.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, she clearly doesn’t expect her family or friends to put their lives on the line for her son. I’m still feeling my way around Amanda, but her choice isn’t simply misguided insistence on being independent, despite the danger. I bet it has a lot more to do with her trust issues.
“While he’s down, I’ll start teaching you the self-defense I promised.”
“I took some classes shortly after Barclay was arrested and I got accosted on the street for the first time. I could probably use a refresher later, but let’s start with firearms.”
I wish I’d been there to protect her. Losing her sense of anonymity and security must have been terrifying, especially when assholes started threatening her baby, too. “Sure. Let me go gather my gear, and I’ll talk you through the basics.”
“Where should we practice?”
“We won’t be able to actually shoot here. Tomorrow, maybe some of your family can watch Oliver for a couple of hours so we can get to a gun range. It should be safe enough, and you’ll need the practice. You’ll need to be familiar with the weapon in your hand if you have to use it to defend yourself. You’ll—”
“Can’t we do it now?”
She’s determined, and I appreciate that. Amanda never wants to be a victim again. “Let’s try. I have an idea. I need to make a phone call.”
“Thank you.”
While she hustles away to find her purse and shoes, I pull out the card Griff gave me earlier—it tells me he’s a Realtor—and give him a call. He and Britta are happy to help out, and their boys should both be awake in an hour.
When Amanda returns to the kitchen, I fill her in, then raid the last of Masey’s leftovers in the refrigerator. As I put my plate in the dishwasher, Oliver stars howling from the other side of the house.
“He shouldn’t already be awake. Ugh, his sleep schedule is so off,” she groans as she jogs down the hall.
A minute later, she returns, carrying a plastic bag with a presumably wet diaper in one hand, while trying to balance the big hunk of boy against her chest with the other.
“I’ll take him.” I hurry to help her.
“Really? Thanks.”
I ruffle Oliver’s hair, and she smiles wistfully. “Barclay never held him, you know. Not once. For all the promises he made me and all the times he told me I was his world, when life got real his only priority was himself.”
“If Reed wasn’t already dead, I’d throttle him for the sheer joy of seeing the selfish bastard die.” It’s also too bad that the guy who offed Reed isn’t still alive. I’d like to shake his hand.
Amanda blinks at me as if I’ve stunned her.
“Sorry, but I can’t mourn a guy who took advantage of you, lied to you, then turned his back on you when it mattered most.”
She shakes her head. “By then, I didn’t mourn, either. Once Barclay walked away from me, I saw exactly the man he was—a terrible partner and father, not to mention a thief. If you had been first in line to kill him, I might have shoved you out of the way so I could do the honors. The world is better off without him.”
Every time I think Amanda is soft and sweet, if a little mysterious, she completely blindsides me. She’s tough when it counts. How else could she have fought off an intruder with a knife? How else has she endured months of a mob hunting her down?
I know I shouldn’t touch her, but I can’t resist. “I’ve never met a woman who’s surprised me more. You intrigue the hell out of me, Mandy.”
“No one has ever called me that. I kind of like it.” She sends me another one of her Mona-Lisa smiles as she slips her purse onto her shoulder and we leave.
A few minutes later, we arrive at Griff and Britta’s. The place is cottage-style and beachfront. The exterior looks charming. Then Britta opens the door to reveal a gorgeous interior, the back a solid wall of floor-to-ceiling glass doors that open to an expansive lanai overlooking the Pacific that would make most Mainlanders weep for their slice of paradise.
Inside, Griff is bouncing Jamie on his knee, while Britta, his pretty blond wife, invites us in, then follows behind, cuddling their infant.
“Forgive us. We only moved in a few months ago, and with the new baby, we haven’t finished unpacking the last of the boxes.”
Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed. I was stuck on the sick ocean views.
“Angel, it’s fine. Don’t worry. They’re here so Oliver can play with the boys, not to judge our organizational skills.”
“I know, but I meant to be done by now, and I thought I’d have a chance to finish after Grayson was born, but…”
“One day at a time,” Griff soothes her. “The morning sickness will go away eventually, then you can spend the last two trimesters ‘nesting.’”
“You’re pregnant again?” Amanda asks. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks. We found out earlier this week. We’re going to tell the family tonight. It came sooner than we expected…” She sends Griff a scolding glance.
He sets Jamie aside with a ruffle of his hair, then saunters over to his wife and palms her belly. “I’m not sorry. I missed everything with Jamie. Seems like Gray arrived in a blink. Besides”—he kisses her forehead—“I love making babies with you.”
She swats his arm, but she’s trying to suppress a grin. “TMI. We have guests.”
They have what I want. Funny how just this morning I was convinced that I’d put away all thoughts of marriage and babies and happily ever after. The truth isn’t that I didn’t want them anymore; I just didn’t want them with Ellie.
I have a weird feeling things could be completely different with Amanda.
“I’m pretty sure they know where babies come from,” Griff says in a stage whisper.
“You’re incorrigible.” She rolls her eyes, but I see her lurking smile before she turns back to us. “Can I get you two anything?”
“No, thanks,” I say. “If we’re going to get in some good practice rounds, we need to head out.”
“We’re here until six-thirty, so—”
“We’ll be back way before then,” Amanda promises, then hands Griff Oliver’s diaper bag and jots down her number. “Call me if you need anything.”