Shoving past him, Summer ran from the bedroom. She went straight to the playpen and lifted Ari into her arms. The sleeping baby barely noticed.
A quick glance into the backyard told her dawn was on the way. She groaned and put some steel in her spine. Now was not the time to be tenuous or weak-kneed. As the mother of an infant, she’d functioned without adequate sleep before and hadn’t managed to nearly blow up her life, so she knew she could do it.
Arnie stumbled into the room. He put on his jeans although they weren’t fully zipped and was struggling to pull a shirt over his head. If she let him start talking, she’d lose her advantage, so she shut him down neatly by haughtily marching past him.
“You can sleep on the sofa,” she snarled.
“Summer, can you slow down, please?”
“No, I will not slow down. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me again, and whatever!” Forgetting how the saying went, she blasted him with exasperated confusion. “Been there, done that.”
Glaring at him as if he were the one who crossed the line and behaved like a sex-starved wanton, she marched away to go hide in her bedroom.
When she turned to shut the door, she glanced into the living room to find him looking completely bewildered with one hand scraping through his hair and the other in a fist at his waist.
As an amateur when it came to screwing the pooch, Arnie stood slack-jawed in the middle of Summer’s living room. Flabbergasted by what he knew damn well was an epic crash and burn, he quickly came to terms with how badly he messed up.
The brilliant plan he came up with to woo his sunshine lady involved pretty speeches and balls to the wall groveling. He was prepared to suck it up and humble himself. This plan did not include ripping her clothes off the first time they were alone and fucking her like a sex-starved caveman.
No amount of bowing and scraping could make up for the monumental blunder he just made.
Dropping like a rock onto the sofa, he held his head with both hands for a few moments. While staring at his feet, he noticed two photo albums next to a stack of magazines on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. Curious, he pulled them out and set them on top of the table.
They were dated. One covered the months before Arianne was born, and the other was recent.
He thought about whether he was invading her privacy and decided if the albums were secret or intimate, they would be kept out of sight.
Flipping the cover open on the first, he was stunned to find the first page held a handwritten letter by Summer, explaining why she documented her pregnancy. Reading between the lines, he realized the album was for him.
He placed a hand on his chest over his heart and fought the urge to cry. Despite all signs to the contrary, she somehow still believed he’d return. She held hope in her heart. Hope for a future. A future she envisioned with him.
The realization was staggering and made his guilt for not finding her sooner all the heavier to bear.
Paging through the album, he found more than pictures. She kept parking passes and pregnancy brochures from a clinic. There were magazine clippings about what it was like to have a baby and how to prepare for motherhood.
Unable to look away, he studied the weekly selfies of her showing off her pregnant belly. She called the baby Tinker Belly after finding out the baby’s sex from an ultrasound picture affixed to a page in the album
Arnie studied the medical proof of his baby growing inside her. He was barely able to keep it together and marveled at the strength and courage it took for her to go it alone.
At the end of the album, a clear envelope affixed to the back cover held a flash drive and two camera cards.
The second album began with a picture of Lynda Gerry in a bulky orthopedic cast, holding a paper reading, “Sorry.” It took him a good long time to piece an explanation together why it would be on the first page.
Was Summer’s landlady her ride to the hospital? His heart sank when another possibility bit him on the ass. Was Lynda her birth coach too?
Oh, dear god. No. Please, no. Guilt like none he’d ever known engulfed him. He didn’t think he could stand it if she was alone when their baby came into the world.
On the next couple of pages, he found selfies she took during labor. Her face was flushed, and she looked a little rough, but her eyes showed no fear—just determination.
A photograph of mother and child taken in the delivery room included a note thanking her labor nurse, Jessica, for snapping the picture. It was all the proof he needed to grasp the certainty of Summer giving birth alone.
A colorful, decorative birth certificate announcing the arrival of the baby put a big smile on his face. It wasn’t a legal document, but he didn’t care because right there in beautiful calligraphy was an acknowledgment of his paternity.
Arianne Leigh born October 7th to parents, Arnie and Summer. A symbol drawn to represent the balanced scales of Libra drew his attention. He wasn’t big on tattoos, but with his father getting inked up, maybe it was time to soften his stance. After all, it’s not every day a father shares a birth sign with his firstborn.
His sunshine girl commemorated every day of their daughter’s life, no matter how humdrum and ordinary. She snapped photos of everything. Ari asleep. Ari taking a bath nestled in a gigantic flower. Ari in a pink tutu. Ari in a purple onesie. Ari with a headband, and Ari with a beanie cap.
He couldn’t help his grin and didn’t try. His kid was beautiful—maybe the most beautiful baby girl on the planet. With a head of blond wisps, captivating blue eyes, and a sweet little mouth, she looked exactly like the photo of his mom as an infant
The album was empty after a few pages of recent pictures from Christmas and New Year’s. There was a cute group shot of Summer and Arianne with Captain Reed Warren. They were posing with Santa hats on in front of a sign for the National Training Center at Fort Irwin.
The connections, synchronicity, and overlapping of their lives continued to amaze him. It wasn’t just Tintagel and a sick love of junk food munchies. He’d been to the NTC many times. The training they delivered was without compare. The very real possibility he’d crossed paths with her brother at some point blew his mind.
He paged back to a series of photos showing Arianne in a pretty cream-colored baby dress. The way she gazed into the camera gave him goose bumps. Taking the picture of his mother from his wallet, he slid it into the page’s binding. It meant something to him for his mom and baby to share the same space.
A loud rumbling came from his stomach. Thanks to intensive training and loads of experience, he could function without sleep, but no food was a different matter.
Leaving the photo album open on the coffee table, he rose and strolled barefoot into the kitchen.
Poking through Summer’s pantry and refrigerator was fun. She had a little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing. Her grocery situation was remarkably similar to the state of affairs in his New York apartment.
On a shelf in the refrigerator, he found a mostly empty tub of Philadelphia cream cheese and four one-pound boxes of unsalted butter. What the hell was she doing with so much butter? The thought of her peeling open a stick of butter and eating it made him wheeze with silent laughter.
Going by a selection of juice in single-serve bottles labeled fresh, raw, and organic, his golden girl was on a healthy kick. He shuddered, “Blech,” at the cold-pressed celery juice.
A small, square, see-through plastic bin held what took him a minute to figure out were breast milk storage bags. His eyes swung to the sink. An interesting piece of equipment with plastic branches atop a drain tray held two small baby bottles and a couple of nipples.
Seeing his baby suckling at Summer’s breasts opened his male eyes. Generally speaking, guys didn’t usually think about the practical side of boobs. He wondered what it was like to surrender one’s body to an all-consuming process lasting far longer and being way scarier than the books admit.
Frankly? He wasn’t sure men had the balls to handl
e pregnancy, childbirth, or what came after.
In the end, he toasted two brown sugar Pop-Tarts, slathered them with natural peanut butter, and made a warm, gooey sandwich. He washed it down with store-bought chocolate milk.
A page turned when sunrise came. Today was day one of him, Summer, and Arianne as a family. Yes, he’d made a ridiculous number of blunders and a few forced errors, but he’d conducted his adult life by a live-and-learn mindset. To begin, he had a whole lot of careful stepping and more than a little explaining to do. She needed time to process, and he needed time to prove his natural state wasn’t grade A prime dickishness.
Stretching out on the sofa, he programmed his internal clock for a short nap and took several deep breaths. The best thing he could do right now was give his lady some space. He intended to stay right on top of her and the baby while also silently giving her whatever time she needed to find her way in this highly unusual situation.
Waking up startled, Summer scrambled off the bed to peer into Ari’s crib to make sure she was all right. Finding her snoozing peacefully, she shook her head and smirked.
“You picked a fine time to sleep through the night.”
Stretching and yawning, she re-belted her robe and fluffed her messy hair while wondering if she had time to shower before morning mommy duties took over.
Until they all snapped at once, she didn’t realize her emotions were made of tightly stretched rubber bands.
Oh. My. God.
Out loud, she softly wailed, “I slept with Arnie.”
Her conscience finger pointed and shrieked with laughter.
Slept together? Ha! You screwed his brains out, got off big time, and then reacted like an outraged prude. Tramp!
She cringed. “Guilty.”
Her eyes swung to the closed bedroom door. Arnie was on the other side probably still wondering what got into her last night. She’d behaved abominably. It was one hundred percent unfair to place all the responsibility for what happened on him.
“Ergh.” Nothing made her conscience prickle more than admitting she’d done a stupid.
Caught between an apology and her need for a bathroom, she was pulling herself together when a loud noise in the living room made her flinch and run to the bedroom door. Yanking it open, she hurriedly stepped from the bedroom in time to find Arnie coming from the bathroom. They looked at each other with wide eyes because no joke, someone was trying to knock her door down.
He held up his hand to stop her. “Stay there. Whoever is pounding on the door needs an attitude adjustment.”
Stomping across the room and through the kitchen, he flung open the door and barked at the same time. “This better be important.”
Summer tamped down the nervous energy running wild inside her. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was almost seven thirty. Who in their right mind caused such a racket so early in the morning?
“Out of my way, son. I’m here to pay my respects to the lady of the house,” a loud voice boomed.
She jerked with total surprise when Ned Wanamaker, wearing a suit and tie, marched through the door carrying an enormous arrangement of pink and white flowers. Stan shuffled behind him, wrangling a balloon bouquet large enough to fill the kitchen.
Painstakingly aware of her state of undress and early morning bedhead, she tugged on the robe’s belt and double-checked to make sure she was completely covered.
Ned came straight to her. His face carried the biggest smile she’d ever seen a human being make. Reacting to the kind concern and love she saw shining in his eyes, she smiled back and blushed.
“Summer,” he murmured gently. “Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Darnell Wanamaker Junior. My goat of a father is Darnell Senior, so I’m called Ned. It is my delight and pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.”
He held out his hand, and Summer giggled at the courtly ritual. Graciously accepting the warm handshake, she quipped, “Goat?”
He winked. “Greatest of all time. And I mean it. Call me Ned,” he added. “These two miscreants”—he chuckled with a nod at Arnie and Stan—“are my offspring. Can you believe it?”
She smirked. “You mean the McGee brothers? Yeah, we’ve met.”
Shoving the flowers toward her, he said, “These are for you. I hope you don’t mind, but I signed the card from Ned and Lianne.”
“Oh, Ned,” she cried. “Really?” Cradling the enormous bouquet like Miss America on the runway, she tore open the card and felt tears stinging her eyes.
Dear Summer, thank you for our first grandchild.
Arianne is beautiful—just like her mother.
Welcome to the family.
Ned and Lianne
With a strangled cry, she threw an arm around Ned’s neck and kissed his cheek.
“I’ll treasure this card forever.” She glanced at Arnie and then looked away to wipe her tears.
“The balloons were my idea,” Stan announced as if he also invented them. “I tried for two dozen, but they wouldn’t all fit in the truck.”
She imagined Stan and Ned rolling down Ventura Boulevard in a truck with a balloon-filled cab. The visual struck her funny bone, and she snorted with laughter.
Arnie stood rather sheepishly behind his dad and brother as this formal acknowledgment of names and roles took place. She couldn’t read his expression.
Gifts exchanged, she placed the bouquet on the kitchen counter and waved them into the guesthouse. “Come on in.”
As Stan walked past, she stopped him with a hand on the arm holding the balloons. His other arm was restrained by a sling.
“Are you okay, Stan?”
He valiantly tried to laugh off what happened, but she heard his turmoil and knew it was going to take time for him to process everything.
“Hey, what’s a bullet or two between mother and son?”
She let him have his stoically cavalier moment and nudged him playfully. “Did you at least have a pretty nurse?”
He rolled his eyes. “A gunshot wound is assigned to a medical forensics team. Evidence,” he said dryly. “Not one of them qualified as pretty.”
Just like with her brother Reed, Summer’s matchmaking impulses flashed on and off like a neon sign. She liked Stan and had from the moment they met. A little true romance would do the man a world of good.
All of a sudden, Arnie sprang into action, squeezed past them, and ran into the living room. Curious what got his shorts in a knot, she followed while Stan tied the balloons to the back of a kitchen stool.
Ned was bending over the coffee table, studying something. She moved closer to get a look.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Oh, uh, I was looking at some scrapbooks,” Arnie muttered uncomfortably.
Stan chuckled and gave her a knowing look. “Made him sleep on the sofa, did you?”
“Shut up, Stanford,” Arnie grumbled. A second later, his cheeks flushed with a shade of embarrassment.
Summer wedged herself between Ned and Arnie. She looked down at the open album. A picture she didn’t recognize made her do a double take.
Her eyes rose to meet Arnie’s fierce stare. He mumbled, “It’s a picture of my mom. Ari looks like her.”
Gobsmacked into silence, she reached for the picture and looked at Ned for confirmation.
“After we found out about Arianne, I gave him the picture because anyone can see how much alike they are.”
Alike? Shit, they were almost twins. She thought the baby looked like her daddy, but it turned out, she was a close copy of her paternal grandmother.
Emotion hit her broadside. Yesterday, it was just she and Ari. With her dad gone, all she had to look forward to were brief cameos by Reed. But when she wrote in the baby’s first year journal, today would stand out forever as the day they gained a family. A big family with people who cared and were eager to be involved.
In one hand, she held a picture of Arnie’s beloved mother, and in the other hand, she held the card Ned included with the
flowers. She placed a kiss upon the card and pressed the photograph of Lianne Wanamaker above her heart.
Bending over the album, she placed both inside, gently closed it, and straightened, looking back and forth between both men.
“I’ll make a special page for Ari’s grandmother,” she told them in a hushed, reverent voice.
Ned cleared his throat. “May I meet Lianne’s granddaughter now? It would mean an awful lot to me, Summer, if you’d let me hold her.”
The request jolted her into full awareness. “Of course,” she assured Ned. “But she’s still sleeping, and I have to get dressed, so if you want to make a coffee run, now’s the time.”
Stan held his phone in the air. “Already on it. Postmates is on the way with breakfast and a box of coffee.”
As Ned and Stan discussed the pros and cons of home delivery, she moved closer to Arnie and met his gaze. There was so much emotion swirling between them it was a wonder either of them could function normally.
“Be a good baby daddy and put the kettle on while I go get changed.” She said the words with just a touch of lighthearted sarcasm.
He grinned and let her see how relieved he was. Men were so easy sometimes.
“I am yours to command, madam.”
She arched a brow and got cocky with her reply. “Madam? For real? We’ve been over this before.”
“Oh, right, right.” He chuckled and bent close to her ear. “You prefer a more traditional, uh, submissive role.”
She stomped her foot, made damn sure no one else could hear, and snarled, “I wouldn’t call last night the behavior of a submissive.”
He straightened like a private in the presence of a general. “Last night, I overstepped. It wasn’t you.”
Now wasn’t the time for a disagreement about which of them took home the trophy of responsibility.
“I won’t be long,” she muttered and then ran for cover in the bathroom.
“You look like shit,” Stan teased as their dad dealt with the delivery guy.
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 60
