“Try?”
“How was your day?” he asked, in an obvious effort to shift the conversation.
“Good. We had Holden Durrant on the show today, and ‘Tuesday Trivia.’”
“I’m glad you weren’t worried about Oliver.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “They told you I called.”
“Apparently three times.”
“Okay, yes,” she admitted. “I just wanted to make sure he was doing okay.”
“Three times,” he said again.
“You picked him up early.”
“My meeting finished early,” he said. “It didn’t make sense to come home and then go back out to pick him up later.”
She sighed. “Are we in danger of becoming helicopter parents that hover over their kids all of the time? Or do you think even normal parents try to shield their children from difficult situations?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s a scary thought.”
“That we’re parents?”
He smiled as he shook his head. “That we’re normal.”
* * *
When Ryan finally got to his office later that afternoon, there was a brisk knock on his door and then his cousin Nathan poked his head through. “Are you busy?”
“I haven’t been here long enough to get busy,” Ryan admitted. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to check in to see how everything was going.”
“Here or at home?”
“Either or,” his cousin said. “I know you’ve adjusted your work schedule to help with the baby.”
“Poor kid, huh?”
Nate grinned. “I wasn’t going to say it.”
Ryan’s answering smile quickly faded. “It really does suck. I mean, I think we’re doing okay—me and Harper—but we’re not Oliver’s parents.”
“One of the things I’ve learned, being with Allison and Dylan, is that biology is only one part of the equation. As long as you love the kid—and it seems pretty obvious that you do—you’ll figure things out.”
“I hope so.”
“So how’s everything else?”
“Work is fine. I’ve managed to keep on top of most things despite the hours I’m not in the office.”
“That’s great, but not what I was referring to.”
Ryan’s brows lifted. “What else is there?”
“The fact that you’re living with a woman for the first time in your life.”
“We’re not living together,” he denied. “Okay—we are living together, but we’re not living together.”
Nate smirked. “Glad you cleared that up.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I guess I do. I just thought...maybe...” His words trailed off suggestively.
“No,” Ryan said firmly.
“Are you still seeing Bethany, then?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“She wasn’t happy to learn that I would be sharing a house and childcare responsibilities with another woman and accused me of choosing Harper over her.”
“Did you?”
He shook his head. “Harper is so not my type.”
“I saw her at the funeral,” Nate reminded him. “Since when is your type not brunette and beautiful?”
“Uptight is not my type,” Ryan clarified.
“She didn’t seem uptight to me.”
“Try living with her.”
Nate shook his head. “I like the living arrangement I’ve got right now, thanks.”
“You’re not feeling cramped in Alli’s apartment?”
“We could use a little more space,” his cousin admitted. “We spent a few hours on the weekend touring open houses in Westdale.”
“There are some pretty big houses in that area,” Ryan noted. “Are you planning on expanding your family already?”
“We’re not in a hurry,” Nate said. “But we both want Dylan to be settled so that if we do decide to have more kids, we won’t have to uproot him again.”
“What did he think of the house hunting?”
“He was right into it. At first he was just excited by the idea of having a house with an actual backyard. Then he decided it would be even better if the backyard included a pool.”
Ryan chuckled at that. “So you’re buying a house with a pool?”
“We put in an offer last night—we should hear back sometime today.”
“There’s something else on your mind,” Ryan guessed.
“Yeah,” Nathan admitted. “But I’m not sure if it’s worth worrying you about—or even if it’s anything to worry about.”
“If what is?” he prompted.
“A young woman came in early this morning—I heard her talking to Alli, asking to see the CFO about some kind of scholarship program. When I walked through the door and introduced myself as the CFO, she asked specifically for John Garrett. She seemed surprised to hear that he’d retired a few months ago—and then she asked for you.”
“Me?”
Nate nodded.
“Did she give you her name?”
“Nora Reardon.”
“Doesn’t ring any bells,” Ryan told him.
“Young—probably twentysomething,” Nate guessed. “Long straight dark hair, blue eyes. A little mole at the corner of her mouth.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I know her.”
“Okay,” Nate agreed. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case she comes back.”
“I hope she does,” Ryan said. “Because now I’m curious.”
“Me, too.” His cousin checked his phone, grinned. “But right now I have to go buy a house.”
“Congratulations.”
Nate shook his hand. “Thanks.”
“Just one question before you go.”
He paused at the door.
“Do we have a scholarship program?”
“No,” Nate told him. “We don’t.”
* * *
It wasn’t just Oliver who was getting used to new routines. As the days turned into weeks and one month into two, she was becoming more comfortable with Ryan. She hadn’t forgotten about the kiss, but she was learning to accept the way her pulse raced and her skin tingled whenever he was near.
The days leading up to Mother’s Day were always chaotic as Coffee Time with Caroline did a full week of tributes to local mothers—including makeovers and shopping sprees and on-air cooking lessons for “In the Kitchen with Kane.”
Tuesday afternoon as she pulled in the driveway, she saw a man walking toward the front door. He paused on the step when he heard her vehicle, then redirected when she got out of the car. He was young and neatly dressed in khaki pants and a collared T-shirt with some kind of logo on the chest. A salesperson, most likely.
“Harper Ross?”
The use of her name made her wary. “Yes,” she acknowledged reluctantly.
He handed her an envelope. “Please read the enclosed documents carefully. You have thirty days to respond.”
“Respond to what?”
“You should consult with an attorney to ensure you understand your legal options. Have a nice day, ma’am.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted the flap of the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers. As she unfolded the crisp pages, the bold words jumped out at her.
APPLICATION FOR CUSTODY OF MINOR CHILD.
* * *
Ryan paged through the document, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Darren’s sister and her husband, who’d had absolutely no contact with Oliver through the first seventeen months of his life, were suing for custody of the little boy.
He didn’t think they could succeed. The possibility was, to his mind, patently ridiculous. But the fact that they’d hired an attorney and filed a petition with the court proved that they were serious, and he could tell that Harper was seriously worried.
Not three minutes earlier, sh
e’d burst through the front door, pale and shaking and looking as if she was going to throw up. At first, he’d thought that she was actually physically ill—and then he’d seen the title of proceedings on the document that she thrust at him.
“What are we going to do?” she asked him now, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“We’re going to respond,” he promised her. “We’re not going to let anyone take Oliver away.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I feel like this is my fault.”
“How could this possibly be your fault?”
She glanced down at her white knuckles. “Because, way back in the beginning, I said that there should be someone better suited to raising Oliver than us.”
He set the papers aside and reached for her hands, then unfurled her icy fingers and squeezed gently. “I guarantee you’re not the only one who thought so—that doesn’t make you responsible for this.”
“I invited her into the house,” she persisted. “I let her visit Oliver.”
“Of course you did. Regardless of the fact that she lost touch with her brother a long time ago, she’s still Oliver’s aunt.”
“We could lose Oliver,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“We’re not going to lose Oliver.”
She didn’t respond—she didn’t need to. The bleak expression on her face said it all.
He shifted closer and put his arms around her. To his surprise, she leaned into him rather than pulling away, and they both drew comfort from the embrace.
“I’ll call my cousin Jackson to see if he can give us a recommendation for a local attorney,” he told her. “But in the meantime, there’s no point in worrying about something we can’t control.”
“Is there something else I should worry about instead?”
His smile was wry. “I think you do enough worrying without a specific topic of concern.”
“Somebody needs to.”
“You think I’m not worried?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I have no idea what goes on in your mind.”
“Then I’ll tell you—not a single day has gone by since Darren and Melissa died that I haven’t woken up in a sweat. Every day I wonder how in hell I’m supposed to fill my best friend’s shoes and worry that I can’t possibly be everything that little boy wants and needs.”
“You always seemed so confident and capable,” she told him.
“Now you know the truth—I’m just as much in over my head as you are.”
She managed a laugh. “Because there was never any doubt that I was in over my head, was there?”
“No,” he admitted. “But we’re making progress—all of us.”
“Do you ever wonder...?”
“Do I ever wonder what?” he prompted.
“If Melissa and Darren might have made a different choice if they knew what happened between us the night of their wedding.”
His brows lifted. “You mean if they knew that we’d had incredible, mind-blowing sex?”
“I’ll concede to the sex,” she told him. “The superlatives are editorial.”
“The superlatives are just as much fact as the act.”
“You’re getting off topic.”
“I thought the topic was the night we spent together.” And thinking about that night, especially while Harper was still cuddled against his chest, was stirring not just his memories but his desires.
“No, the topic was our friends not knowing about that night,” she clarified.
“You’re thinking that if they did know, they wouldn’t have set up this joint guardianship because they would have realized we couldn’t live in close proximity and not end up in bed together again?”
“It’s been a real challenge,” she said drily. “But so far I’ve managed not to sneak naked into your bed.”
“No one would blame you if, in a moment of weakness, you did,” he assured her.
“I’d blame me,” she told him. “Right now we need to focus on Oliver.”
He rubbed her back, gently, soothingly. “I’ve heard that sex is an effective stress reliever.”
She snorted. “I’m not that stressed.”
But she didn’t pull away from him, so he let himself hold on to her a little while longer and think about the possibilities.
Chapter Nine
As promised, Ryan called his cousin Jackson, who was a lawyer in Pinehurst, New York, and got a recommendation for a local attorney. Then he called the attorney’s office and was given an appointment time of four o’clock the following afternoon.
Shelly Watts was of average height and build, but there was nothing else average about her. She had masses of wildly curling auburn hair, clear green eyes that were sharp and direct, a smile that was warm and genuine, and freckles covering every inch of visible skin.
She also had a confident manner that immediately put both of them at ease, along with a table in the corner of her office scattered with small toys, coloring books and crayons.
“I spent most of the morning in court,” Shelly said after introductions had been exchanged and they were seated on the other side of her desk. “As a result, I haven’t had a chance to do much more than skim the documents you dropped off, but it looks like a pretty straightforward custody dispute.” She flipped through the pages of the complaint again, then set it aside. “So my question to you is—how do you want to respond?”
“Is there a way to say ‘Go to hell’ in legalese?” Ryan asked.
“It’s instinctive to want to fight something like this,” Shelly told them. “But it’s not required.”
“What are you saying?” Harper said.
“You’re two young single people who have been entrusted with the responsibility of a minor child to whom you have no biological connection,” the lawyer explained patiently. “It’s not inconceivable that you might want to abdicate that responsibility to a willing party.”
“We’re not giving Oliver away,” she said firmly.
“I’m not suggesting that you should—I just want to make sure that you’re both committed to the child and the required course of action.”
“We are,” Ryan confirmed.
“Then let’s get started.”
* * *
“Do you feel better?” Ryan asked as they walked out of the lawyer’s office and into the early evening.
“I’m not sure.” She turned automatically toward the parking lot.
He paused on the sidewalk. “Marg & Rita’s will make you feel better.”
“How do you figure?”
“My cousin Tristyn says that margaritas make everything better. Plus, Marg & Rita’s has decent food and I’m hungry.”
“But Oliver—”
“Is with my parents,” he reminded her. “And considering that they already raised three boys, I’m pretty sure they can handle one toddler for a few hours.”
But he checked in with them anyway to make sure everything was okay and to ensure they didn’t mind keeping Oliver a little longer. His mother was thrilled to spend more time with the little boy she’d immediately designated her first grandchild, unconcerned with the fact that he wasn’t related to her by blood.
Ryan felt the same way. It didn’t matter that Oliver wasn’t his son—he was already looking forward to sharing all the important events in his life, from his first day of kindergarten to his first day of college. He wanted to teach him to play baseball and drive a car, to help with his math homework and commiserate with him over his first heartbreak.
He’d just hung up after talking to his mother when the waitress came to their table. Harper ordered a classic margarita and the chicken taco salad; Ryan asked for a Corona and the enchilada platter.
“This was one of Melissa’s favorite restaurants,” Harper told him, staring at the icy pale green liquid in her glass.
“I didn’t know that,” he admitted.
She nodded. “Darren did—he brought her here for dinner the night he proposed.”
“He did. But they came here first. He’d planned to give her the ring at dinner, but he chickened out because the restaurant was crowded and he didn’t want too many witnesses if she said no to his proposal. So he waited until they were inside the darkened movie theater and put the ring in the popcorn box instead.”
She smiled a little at the memory. “Melissa always liked to joke about his ‘corny’ proposal, but I know she thought it was incredibly romantic.”
“It wouldn’t have been nearly as romantic if the ring had slipped to the bottom of the box and she’d thrown it into the garbage,” he noted.
“I don’t think he would have let that happen.”
“He was so nervous,” Ryan remembered. “I thought it was because he was the first of our group of college friends to take such a big step, but he said it was because she was such an integral part of his life and his heart, he couldn’t imagine a single day of his life without her.”
“He said that?”
“Sappy, huh?”
“It’s not sappy,” she denied. “It’s perfect.”
“Darren always was a romantic.”
She nodded. “And every year, on the anniversary of his proposal, he took Melissa back to the same movie theater.”
“I didn’t know that part,” Ryan admitted. “But it’s precisely that kind of thing that makes the rest of us look bad. It’s hard enough for a guy to remember birthdays and real anniversaries, but to remember the anniversary of the date that he proposed?”
“He also sent her flowers every year on the anniversary of the day they met,” she told him.
He shook his head in mock disapproval. “That kind of thing, too.”
“He loved her,” she said simply.
“He did,” Ryan confirmed, his tone serious now. “He fell for her hard and fast and never looked back.”
“They were good together,” Harper agreed. “I know they sometimes argued—and sometimes about stupid things—but there was never any doubt about their commitment to one another.”
“Why does that make you sad?” he asked, because he could tell by the emotions swirling in the depths of her chocolate-colored eyes and the wistful tone of her voice that it did.
“Talking about them in the past tense—it just feels so wrong. And it breaks my heart to realize that Oliver won’t have any real memories of how much his parents loved one another—and him.”
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