You already feel like Bluebell’s father.
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the string of words flying past his mind’s eye as if hung from an airplane. Of course he felt like the dad. He’d gone to Ginger’s prenatal checkup and had seen Bluebell on the monitor. Heard the heartbeat. He’d been by Ginger’s side through some ups and downs these past weeks. He felt a real sense of responsibility toward Ginger—that had to be the reason why he was having these feelings.
He found himself heading into the basement of his house—he made rare trips downstairs unless he really had to find something—and stared at the old trunks and luggage lining the back area. His parents’ old trunks. His stepmother’s luggage. All filled with things he and the quints hadn’t been able to donate or have within view, like the brown leather jacket their dad had worn more than ten years or his mother’s yellow Crocs that she wore for her favorite hobby, gardening in the backyard of the small house she’d rented when his dad had left. Kerry, his stepmother, had a ton of clothes and jewelry that the girls had gone through, keeping what meant something but unable to part with any of it, so down to the basement it all went. There were family photos upstairs, but not many.
He knelt in front of one of his father’s chests and opened it up. His dad’s favorite clothes. The leather jacket. A few baseball caps he always wore on weekends. He opened another and found a bunch of the quints’ old school stuff. Awards and binders full of math and writing assignments. Report cards.
In his mother’s trunks he found more of the same, but from his childhood, which made him smile. Underneath his mother’s yellow rain slicker he found a treasure trove of baby stuff. Pajamas and blankets and burp cloths that were sparkling white. She must have put this stuff away when he hit kindergarten. Surely Ginger could use all this. He wanted her to have it. He didn’t open his stepmother’s suitcases since he didn’t feel right about it without the quints there, but he knew she’d put away their baby stuff. He opened up some of his own trunks and forgot half the things he’d put inside—Amelia’s hospital bracelet from when she’d broken her leg and wrist. Eli’s creative writing award from eighth grade, even though most of the stuff he’d written had been pretty dreary. Birthday and Christmas cards over the years.
There was one trunk full of stuff from the time he’d moved back home to take care of them until they’d graduated from high school. Awards and trophies and report cards and old stuffed animals. He took out the five matching teddy bears, all bedraggled and missing various body parts, an ear off one, a nose from another. He’d given the teddy bears to the quints for their second birthday when he was nine, with money he’d saved from his own birthdays and Christmases. They’d loved those teddy bears, loved that they were all the same, though he remembered the saleslady in the store telling him and his dad that maybe he should buy different ones so that each toddler would know his or her teddy. But nope, James knew they’d all want the same exact one—a family of bears.
The day he’d told the quints that their parents were gone, he’d found Merry in a closet with her bear, just holding it to her chest, tear streaks on her cheeks, her eyes red rimmed. He’d sat with her for a while in the closet, Merry silent except for when a sob would erupt from her throat. He’d been so scared—in general—of letting them down, but something occurred to him just now. He hadn’t been scared in that closet. It was his job to be there for Merry, for their siblings, and he slipped into the role kind of effortlessly; he wasn’t sure how or why. There’d been no strain on his part. Caring for them required organizational skill and patience, two traits he had in abundance.
He always thought of raising the quints as a sacrifice, but he hadn’t sacrificed anything. He’d just been himself. The James Gallagher he’d been and was meant to be.
He’d raised the quints out of love, not obligation.
“James? You down there?” called Amelia’s voice.
He stood up. “Yup. Just looking at some old stuff.”
“Why?” she asked as she came down, Merry behind her. “What were you looking for?”
“Nothing. I just got nostalgic, I guess. I found some of my old baby clothes and thought Ginger might want them. There’s a bunch of newborn-size pj’s.”
“You should definitely give them to her,” Amelia said. “Our old stuff too.”
He nodded. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
“Did you hear Ginger passed her exams with high honors?” Amelia added. “She got an A plus on her cocktail party assessment.”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me. Ginger is tops at everything.”
His sisters looked at one another with devilish smiles. Oops. He opened himself up for questioning. And he was in no state to be asked questions about his feelings for her. Not when he just realized the truth. And the depth of the truth.
“Amelia, Merry,” he said. “Let me ask you something. Are you two happy working for Larilla? I mean, is that what you want to be doing?”
“Actually, we’ve been talking a lot about that,” Merry said, dropping down on one of their dad’s trunks. Amelia sat down on another, and James did too. “You know, when we were little, we thought Larilla’s house was like a castle, and that she was some kind of fairy godmother from a storybook. We didn’t get to spend much time at the school since Dad and Larilla couldn’t exactly stand each other. But you’d bring us over when Larilla invited us to lunch and barbecues, stuff like that, and we were just enamored by her and the school. We wanted to be princesses, and we thought Larilla could turn us into Cinderellas.”
Amelia laughed. “Of course, were we seven, eight, then. When we were teenagers, we got interested in the school and what Larilla taught because the school offered a ‘Becoming a Strong Young Woman’ workshop, and we thought that was so cool. But then as we were graduating from college and you really pushed the school hard, wanting us to learn the business from Larilla, be in place to take it over, and it felt...pushed on us, you know?”
Merry nodded. “But now that we started really thinking about what we want, we realize how happy we are at Larilla’s, that we do love the etiquette business. We love how individual Larilla makes it. It’s not one size fits all. She teaches based on the student. I think it’s groundbreaking.”
He was happy to hear this, but had they said they didn’t want to work for Larilla and in fact wanted to pursue x, y, z, he would have been fine with that too. He didn’t need other people’s ducks to be in a row to feel his world was in order. He had to let his sisters be, just as his brothers had forced his hand at that by skipping town to pursue their dreams. Likely to get away from their controlling older bro. He’d visit both before he left town and make sure they knew how proud of them he was.
“It’s weird to suddenly realize that the life you thought you didn’t want was what you want after all,” Merry said. “Like, if you have it, it must not be that great. Talk about spiting yourself, right?” She shook her head. “We love working for Madame Davenport’s and we love Larilla. We couldn’t be luckier actually.”
He stared at Merry, the truth of what she’d just said slamming into his gut. Josie’s words came back to him too.
What is it you’re running from? Loving someone? Being loved back? Having a baby wrap his fist around your pinky while gazing at you with big slate blue eyes? Cradling a baby and marveling at the circle of life, while the woman you’re madly in love with is taking a much-needed nap upstairs? Then you switch? Sharing all the beautiful moments life has to offer with the person who makes your heart skip a beat?
Could turquoise waters and pink sand ever mean to him what Ginger did? Could eating insanely good pasta in Rome ever match a night at home with her?
Could dating other women ever really interest him when his heart was with Ginger and a baby he already loved as his own?
If he married Ginger, he’d marry her for love, not out of a sense of duty or obligation.
And he loved her so much that he ached, and he ached because he was in love with her.
He finally admitted it to himself. James loved her. All of her. Every bit of her. Including Bluebell.
Love was what mattered. And he loved Ginger O’Leary.
He just hoped he wasn’t too late. For all he knew, her new boyfriend had carried her off to the Wedlock Creek wedding chapel.
Chapter Fourteen
Ginger sat at the desk in her room at Madame Davenport’s, sketching a drawing of the layout of the apartment she’d just seen. Lora Solero’s house was pretty far from town, which might not be a plus, especially when she was out of diapers or coffee. But the bedroom she’d designate as the nursery was light filled and had good vibes. She sketched in where she’d put the pretty white crib she’d zapped onto her registry at BabyLand, and then the dresser. The glider chair in a corner, and the moon and stars rug in the center.
She put her pencil down and studied the drawing, scrunching up her face. Something wasn’t right, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Not with her plan for the layout, but the place itself. It was fine, perfectly okay and a good deal, but something was missing. And she had no idea what.
A knock came at the door. She hoped it was Karly, who had amazing drawing skills and maybe could rearrange her ideas; maybe then the place would magically feel right to her.
But when she opened the door, it was James who stood there, looking very serious and somewhat out of breath, as if he’d run here from his house.
“Everything okay?” she asked, gesturing him in and closing the door behind him.
“No. Nothing is okay.”
“What’s not okay?” she asked slowly. She took his hand and pulled him inside, then shut the door behind him.
“That we’re not together,” he said. “That we’re not a couple. I love you, Ginger, and I want to marry you and be Bluebell’s father.”
She gasped and staggered backward a couple steps. “What?”
“I’ve been an idiot and I’m rectifying that. We should be together. Paris and Machu Picchu don’t matter as much as you do. Doing what I want doesn’t matter as much as you do.” He got down on one knee, a little black box in his hand.
Another gasp came flying from her throat.
“Will you marry me, Ginger O’Leary?”
She had to grab onto the desk chair with her right hand or her knees would have given out. James Gallagher had just proposed to her? What?
The man she loved so much, her dream come true—for herself and for Bluebell—had just asked him to marry her, on one knee, a diamond ring twinkling in velvet in his outstretched hand.
Which was why she had to say no. James’s dream was not about marriage and family right now. But he always did the right thing, and acting out of love—and she did believe James loved her—didn’t negate the fact that he was propelled to act out of that innate sense of responsibility. To her, it felt like him taking on the quints all over again. Of course he loved them, of course he’d give up his plans—for seven years to stay home to care for them.
But this time, there wasn’t a teenager to be found. She was a grown woman who could take care of herself. She wasn’t letting James give up anything for her. She loved him too much.
“Oh—I should add that I’d like to get married anywhere but the Wedlock Creek Chapel with its crazy legend of multiples,” he said. “One baby sounds just right. The possibility of five? Maybe not right now.” He smiled. “We could elope. Or have a big wedding right here in Larilla’s garden. I know how you love walking through the garden. Or a church wedding. Whatever would make you happy, Ginger.”
Ow, her heart. What would make her happy would be to scream yes at the top of her lungs and fling herself into his arms, seeing that gorgeous diamond ring on her finger.
And she wasn’t about to argue with him over what he wanted. He’d insist that this was what he wanted to do—and she knew deep in his heart it wasn’t. She had to let him go in a way that would have him on that plane to Paris. And there was only one way to do that.
“James, I appreciate the proposal—more than you’ll ever know. But I can’t marry you. I’ve fallen hard for Tyler—the guy with me in BabyLand yesterday—and I had no idea I could feel this way for a man. I’m so lucky that he’s happy to take on an instant family.”
The smile had long faded from James’s handsome face. He snapped the ring box shut and stood up. “I’m too late, then. My own fault.” He turned away for a moment as if collecting himself, then looked at her. “I wish you all the best, Ginger.” With that, he fled from the room, and from the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, he’d taken them two at a time.
Ginger dropped down on the floor, her hands covering her face, and let the sobs come.
* * *
James had walked miles around Wedlock Creek, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to drown his sorrows in pints of beer. He didn’t want to do anything. So he just walked. The happy couples pouring out of the wedding chapel were unbearable, so he headed in the opposite direction down Main Street.
And stopped short.
Tyler, Ginger’s new dude, was sitting at the bar of McCann’s Pub, an elbow propping him up. The guy looked sad, like he might start crying at any second. If he hurt Ginger—
James found himself pulling open the door and barging in, ready to confront Tyler. Though, given that he’d just come from her bedroom and she was perfectly fine and talking about how Tyler was The One, something else had to be wrong here. Maybe Tyler intended to hurt Ginger. Maybe he’d realized he’d taken on too much for himself.
Maybe this, maybe that. Stop speculating and talk to the guy.
Everyone else glanced over at him, since he pulled open the door with such force, but woebegone Tyler didn’t even lift his downcast head. James pulled up a stool next to him. “Tyler, right? We, uh, ran into each other at the baby store yesterday. You were with Ginger.”
Tyler turned toward him, then lifted his beer and slugged it down. “Oh, right. I always thought Haley was going to be the mother of the children we’d adopt, but I guess that’s not happening.” He shook his head. “I should just accept that I’m never getting over her.”
“Over who?”
“Haley. My ex.”
“But you’re with Ginger now. You’re buying stuffed monkeys for the baby.”
“Huh?” he asked. “Ginger’s awesome, but we’re just friends. Want to know something pathetic? My friends were so sick of me whining and crying over Haley that I stopped and just kept it in. But Ginger encourages me to let it out. She’s really great.”
Okay, what was going on here? “So you and Ginger are not a couple. That’s what you’re saying?”
“Not in the slightest. Honestly, I found her a lot hotter before the big transformation. I told her too. I mean, she’s pretty and all, but...”
Something that felt a lot like hope pinged in James’s chest. Ginger had lied about them being a couple? Why? She’d said she’d fallen hard for Tyler. Maybe she’d fallen for Tyler but since he was still in love with his ex, he was the unattainable man? He frowned; that didn’t feel right either. Ginger had definitely made it sound like James was her guy.
He got up and put a twenty on the bar. “Your tab’s on me,” he said. “And you will meet a woman who’ll make you forget all about your ex. Trust me. I’ve been there and done that. I met someone so beautiful, so wonderful, so special, that I can’t even remember my ex’s name.”
Until he said it, he hadn’t even realized how true it was.
“Really? That gives me hope,” Tyler said.
James clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”
He had to find Ginger right now. That was how bad he wanted his new life to start.
* * *
“Madame Davenport, I’ll never have the words to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Ginger said. “So I’ll just have to say a simple thanks. You’ve changed my life.”
Larilla stood up from behind the desk in her office and came around. Ginger stood up too. Madame Davenport pulled her into a hug. “You changed your life. From the very moment you decided to. I’ll never forget meeting you for the first time, when you sat right there and told me your story.”
Ginger glanced at the chair she’d just vacated. Could that have been only three weeks ago? It felt like three years ago.
“I’m certainly not afraid of Alden trying to take my baby from me anymore,” Ginger said, sitting back down. “I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again, but if I do, I’ll handle it just fine. Not a single pastry will be thrown too.” She laughed, then immediately burst into tears.
Oh no. No, no, no. She could not cry in front of Madame Davenport. But she couldn’t get ahold of herself. Madame and James were so intertwined that just being with Larilla made her feel connected to James. Which made her cry harder.
“You were very honest with me from the very start,” Madame said. “Please continue the tradition. What is wrong, my dear?” She took Ginger’s hand and led her to the velvet chaise against the back wall.
Just like the first time she sat in this office, out came the whole story. Every bit of it. Starting with how respected James made her feel when he took her to that first boutique, to his accompanying her to her first prenatal checkup, to crying Tyler, to James’s marriage proposal.
“I love him so much that I have to let him go,” Ginger said, wiping at her eyes. “He deserves the world after all his sacrifice. But to have been so close to everything I’ve dreamed of and to give it up—wow, that hurts. But I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”
Larilla handed her a tissue. “Dear, at Madame Davenport’s School of Etiquette, we don’t expressly teach that one shouldn’t make decisions for other people, but we should.”
To Keep Her Baby Page 16
