Hope soared in her chest. “So we have a real chance. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” He slid his hand over to hers and she clasped it, her heart pulsating.
By the time he pulled into a parking spot at Arabella’s, Molly was afraid if she pinched her arm she’d wake up in her bedroom, alone, that this was all a beautiful dream.
“Is it the dress? The lip gloss?” she quipped out of sheer nerves. Was this really happening?
He turned off the ignition and took both of her hands. “No, Molly. It’s you.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, pulling away just to look into his eyes. She wanted to say I love you but she didn’t want to scare the man out into the hills. But she did love him, so much she could burst with it.
Inside the restaurant, dimly lit with oil paintings lining the pale yellow walls, they decided not to drink at all so that anything that happened between them happened because they wanted it to, not because the wine loosened their inhibitions. Molly ordered an interesting-looking pasta dish that she’d never heard of but sounded delicious, and Zeke went with the New York strip. Over dinner, they talked about their families and grandparents and places they’d been and places they wanted to go. Turned out they both wanted to visit Iceland and see the glaciers and volcanoes.
We’ll go on our honeymoon, she thought giddily.
The dance floor was through an archway, and she could see a few couples slow dancing to an Ella Fitzgerald song. Once their entrees were cleared away and they both decided against dessert, he asked her to dance and led her to the cozy space, wrapping his arms around her waist. She put hers around his neck and they swayed to Frank Sinatra’s “It Had to Be You.”
“I can hardly believe this is really happening,” she whispered. “The date, the talk in the car, this dance.”
His lips moved close to her ear. “I guess this is our song.”
I love you, I love you, I love you, she thought. “I’d say this proper first date is going very well.”
He held her even closer. “Very well.”
They danced to another song, and suddenly all she wanted was to be alone with him.
“My place?” she whispered.
He smiled and took her hand, leading her back to their table. As they were leaving, her phone pinged with a text.
Her mother. Uh-oh.
Honey, everything’s okay but Lucy is feverish and screaming her head off. I’m sorry to ruin your date but I think she needs her mama.
Molly read the text to Zeke. “Motherhood calls.” She looked at him, hard, studying his expression. Maybe this would undo tonight—the reminder that she came with a child and responsibilities that would usurp everything and anything, including and particularly a dream date.
He held her hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t we go pick up Lucy from your parents and I’ll stay to help. I’m the baby whisperer of Bear Ridge, remember?”
“You sure? You can take a rain check.” He was really all in, she thought, goose bumps on her arms.
“Oh, I want that rain check,” he said. “But yes, I’m sure.”
She texted her mother back that they’d be at their house to get Lucy in about a half hour and to give Lucy baby Tylenol.
“Well, I guess if we’re going to date,” she said as they headed for his car, “this is the kind of thing that’ll happen. Sick baby. Sitter cancels last minute. My ex has an emergency and can’t take Lucy on his scheduled weekend.”
He was quiet for a moment. “This is your life. And I want to be a part of that life.”
She reached a hand to his gorgeous cheek. “This date is still going very, very well.”
He smiled and they drove off. Molly texted her mom to ask if Lucy was still crying, and the answer was yes. Poor baby. As much as she loved Zeke, she was itching to get to her baby and hold her, comfort her, take care of her.
As they pulled into her parents’ driveway, Molly could hear Lucy crying the moment she opened the car door. The baby was wailing.
“Oh, boy. Cover your ears, Zeke.”
“I’m used to it. I was at Noah and Sara’s this past weekend, and both twins were shrieking their heads off. I could only get one to quiet down, though.”
The door opened, and Molly’s dad stood in the doorway, rocking a crying Lucy. The difference in temperature outside got Lucy’s attention and she stopped crying—then saw her mother and held out her arms. Molly and Zeke hurried into the house, Molly taking Lucy and cuddling her.
“The Tylenol seems to be working,” her dad said. “She’s not as hot.”
Molly touched her hand to Lucy’s forehead. Warm but not feverish. That was a relief.
“Ah, the sound of silence,” Tim said. “I can hear myself think.” He turned to Zeke and extended his hand. “Nice to see you, Zeke.”
Zeke shook her dad’s hand. “As always.”
Molly’s mom came to the foyer, wrapping her cardigan sweater tight around her. “Oh, Molly, you look so lovely! Did you have a nice time?”
“It was wonderful and thank you. I got the text just as we were leaving so it was good timing.”
Abby Orton smiled. “Oh, glad to hear. I held out for as long as I could but I could see she wouldn’t calm down until she was in your arms.” She turned to Zeke. “Is Arabella’s as romantic as I’ve heard? I’m thinking that we’ll go for our thirty-fourth anniversary.”
“It is,” Zeke said. “They have a dance floor in a beautiful little gazebo-like area next to the dining room.”
Lucy started to fuss, so Molly shifted the baby in her arms. “Well, we’ll get going.”
“I’ll follow you home,” Tim said. “In case you need backup.”
“That’s my job tonight,” Zeke said. “Moral support, making coffee, slicing pie.”
Molly saw the look that passed between her parents. A very pleased look.
“That’s very kind of you, Zeke,” her mom said. “Well, honey, call us if you need us. But looks like you’ve got everything covered.”
Zeke borrowed a car seat from Molly’s dad, and in a few minutes they were at Molly’s house, Lucy fast asleep.
“I’ll transfer her to the crib,” Molly said once they were inside. “Why don’t you see what looks good for dessert in the fridge. Want to pick a movie or TV show? Something not too engrossing just in case Lucy wakes up.”
“I’m on it,” he said.
She took Lucy to the nursery, her sleeping daughter’s forehead feeling back to normal.
And Zeke Dawson was on her sofa. Waiting for her.
The night might have had a little detour, but he was still here.
“I’m scared to jinx myself,” she whispered to Lucy as she set her precious girl in her crib and gently caressed her cheek. “But I think we’re over the hump with Zeke.”
Anticipation swirling, she headed back downstairs.
She was in Zeke’s arms within two minutes, the pie and the TV forgotten.
* * *
A cry woke Zeke and he glanced at the alarm clock on Molly’s side of the bed: 2:14 a.m. Molly stirred and turned, fast asleep, her beautiful brown curls everywhere. He gently caressed her hair and got out of bed, pulling on his pants, then headed to the nursery. Another cry sounded.
“On my way, Lucy,” he whispered.
She stood in her crib, holding on to the railing and then lifting her arms.
And he froze. Just for a second, but a hesitation gripped him.
She stared up at him with her big brown eyes, so like her mother’s. He picked her up and she immediately grabbed his ear, but instead of it making him laugh like it usually did, he felt a strange zap in his chest as a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.
What was going on with him? This was Lucy. Adorable, sweet Lucy. And he was the baby whisperer of Bear Rid
ge.
This is what life will be like, he thought. I’ll be responsible for this baby—not like a doting, visiting uncle, but as a father figure. Everything I do will matter in her life, affect her.
The cold sweat on his neck turned into pinpricks. Why was he reacting like this? He’d gone through this—he knew who he was. Of course he’d be a good father figure to Lucy.
But will you? How do you know? Your work will get in the way and take your time and energy and you won’t rush into the nursery to see why Lucy is crying. You’ll ignore her, hope she soothes herself back to sleep. Or you’ll just let Molly deal.
And then you and Molly will argue.
You used to help and now you don’t, she’d say, her beautiful face angry. You’ve changed.
Have I? Or was I always this way, he’d counter.
He sat down on the rocking chair, Lucy against his chest, but instead of cherishing the sweet weight of her, the baby-shampoo scent of her, he just felt...wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
He thought he could do this, that he could overcome his past, blaze his own path, but he’d always known he was really meant to be on his own, a lone wolf.
He stared out the window at the evergreens and bare trees in the moonlight. When it seemed safe to put Lucy back in her crib without her waking, he did.
And then he went back to Molly’s bedroom. She looked so beautiful, lying there sleeping.
You’re going to disappoint her eventually.
You’re Bo Dawson’s son.
He tried to lay back down but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He wrote a note.
Molly, I’m very sorry. But I need to go. —Z
He got dressed and tiptoed out of the room. He was halfway toward the door when a light turned on behind him. He turned around to find Molly in a bathrobe, holding the note, so many emotions on her face that he couldn’t pick out just one.
She shook her head. “For a solutions guy, you sure are focused on only the problem.”
“Maybe there is no solution here. Maybe I’m just really not meant to be a husband and father. I made that decision a long time ago and maybe it’s just too ingrained. I wanted to give this a try, Molly. But I guess—”
“Or maybe you could decide that you love me and Lucy and let that call the shots instead,” she interrupted. “If you do love us.”
He looked at her, wishing the right words would come, but the cold sweat had moved into his stomach and into his throat.
She waited.
He said nothing.
“Just go,” she said, and turned and ran away.
I wish I could be different, he wanted to call after her.
But he left and then sat in his car until the cold turned his hands numb.
Chapter Fifteen
On Wednesday morning, Zeke arrived at the office to find a temp from the employment agency waiting outside. Apparently, Molly had made the arrangements yesterday and had left detailed instructions since he’d only made her cutoff by a minute. The temp was experienced and pleasant, but every time Zeke walked toward the reception area, he felt both a sense of shock—who was this strange person?—and sadness. You brought this on yourself, genius, he reminded himself.
On Thursday, he went through the motions at work, grateful he could do some of his job on autopilot. The sight of someone else at Molly’s desk kept doing him in, though, making mincemeat of his concentration. He took long walks down Main Street and then drove around to relook at the houses Danica had shown him, trying to imagine himself in one of them with a family. But that icy shield seemed to wrap around him again and he drove back to Dawson Solutions, forcing himself to focus.
On Friday Zeke stared out the window of his office, stared out the window of his bedroom, stared up at the ceiling. Had he ever felt like this before? Like he was being torn apart? Not like this. He saw Molly’s face, Lucy’s brown eyes, constantly. Thought of them constantly. And this certainty that he wasn’t cut out for marriage and fatherhood—it was better than this torment that he was going through? He felt like hell. How could this be better?
Saturday at noon was Ford’s housewarming party, so Zeke headed into town to find something Ford might like for the new place and to buy presents for his nieces and nephews, who’d all be there. For a split second he almost called Molly to ask what he should get Ford. Candlesticks? A hearth set for the fireplace? He wandered around Main Street, going in and out of stores until he saw it—the perfect gift for Ford. A good-size abstract watercolor painting of a man in a rowboat out to sea. Then he realized that was actually himself; Zeke was the one out to sea. He put that painting back and chose the watercolor of a man walking in the woods. He headed to the toy store next and got each little relative something small but special, wrapped in bright paper. But when he passed the teething toys and board books, especially the ones with chewable edges for teething babies like Lucy, his heart sagged and dropped.
He missed Molly. He missed Lucy.
He still didn’t understand what had happened at her house, why he’d reacted the way he had. On one hand, he did understand—the reality that that would be his future had grabbed hold and he couldn’t shake the echo in his head: not cut out for fatherhood. You’ll fail. You’ll disappoint them. You’ll hurt them.
He sat in his car in the parking lot, thinking, thinking, thinking, and then it was time to head to the party.
As he glanced around the living room, looking for Ford, he did a double take. Danica Dunbar was standing beside the buffet table, chatting away with Ford, and unless he was seeing things, there was something going on between the two. He’d told his brother that his crush on Danica was over, that he’d very unexpectedly fallen for someone else.
He figured Danica knew all about what a heel Zeke was; she was Molly’s best friend and she must know what had happened. But as he approached them, Danica smiled warmly and said it was nice to see him again.
Zeke managed a smile. “Nice to see you, too.”
“I mentioned to you that Danica is the one who showed me this house,” Ford said. “Can’t have a housewarming without the Realtor who found you the perfect home.” His brother glanced at Danica, and yesiree, he could tell Ford was interested. Of course, Zeke didn’t know Danica very well, but she sure seemed unable to drag her eyes off his brother.
With two hands he gave Ford the cumbersome painting, which the store owner had nicely wrapped in silver paper with a big red bow. “Happy housewarming,” Zeke said. “This is for you.”
“Is it a vase?” Ford joked, taking the painting and leaning it against the wall of a console table so he could rip off the wrapping paper. “Wow, I love this painting. In fact, I think it would look great right above this table. Thanks.”
Ford’s attention was back to something Danica said, about the blues and greens in the painting. He wondered if Molly knew that Danica was here, surrounded by Dawsons.
Molly had once said she couldn’t see Zeke and Danica together. Now, of course, that made sense. They’d never been a match. But Ford and Danica—he could definitely see it, and that was despite what his brother had said the day Zeke had come to see the farmhouse for the first time: I said black, she said white. I said up, she said down. Given the way they were looking at each other, the adversarial thing was working for them. Chemistry was funny that way; you just never knew.
Except for the part where Danica had told Zeke that she wasn’t sure if she wanted kids. And Ford definitely did—six, in fact. But like Zeke had always said, the right person could turn you around.
He froze again. The right person, the right person...
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he ended up chatting with an old neighbor, then he found his siblings one by one and handed out the toys he’d brought.
“One of the best uncles in the world,” his sister said with a grin as she watched him hand her baby son, Tony, his gi
ft, an orange-and-yellow stuffed dog with floppy ears.
She held out Tony, clutching his new stuffy, and Zeke took his nephew, cuddling him to his chest. This didn’t feel remotely scary. Uncle: safe. Father: terrifying.
“How did you, Noah, Axel and Rex do it?” Zeke whispered. “Go from feeling just like I do to being great parents? Why can’t I? What the hell is wrong with me, Daisy?”
His sister patted the big easy chair by the window, and Zeke sat, giving Tony a little bounce. She sat in the chair beside his. “Are we talking about Molly?”
He nodded. “I took a step forward, thinking I could do this, that I could look forward to a future with her and her baby daughter. But then the other night, I froze. I was taking care of Lucy in her nursery, just holding her like this because she’d woken up in the middle of the night, and I just felt wrong. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. How could I feel like that when I love—”
Zeke froze again.
...her.
He loved Molly. He loved her with all his heart. And he loved her baby girl.
“Well, there you go,” Daisy said with a gentle smile. “That’s why you’re scared out of your mind. You love Molly and you love Lucy and you’re afraid you’re going to be like Dad. Just like we all were. Until love won out.”
“How does love win out? I mean, how do you make the fear of being a bad parent, a bad spouse, go away just like that?”
“Love wins because you can’t imagine living without them. Because they’re a part of you. They become more important than anything else. And no offense, Zeke, but given how crappy you look with your mussed hair and dark circles under your eyes, you’re clearly miserable without them. Unable to think, sleep, eat. Isn’t that nuts? All you have to do is be happy and yet you’re standing in your way. Breaking the heart of the woman you profess to love. Breaking your own heart.”
Wyoming Cinderella Page 17
