Beau’s brows shot up. “Kind of a late-breaking decision. Why not?”
“Because…fuck…I don’t know.” He lowered the window the rest of the way. “Why are you being such a relentless bitch about this? My life is here.”
“Really? Your have zero family here. You rent your house. You won’t have the job when you go back to school. Your life seems pretty portable to me. In fact, I’d say you’ve done your best not to sink your roots too deep, so why the sudden unshakeable attachment to Atlanta?” He gestured outside the window of the ambulance. “What’s here that you can’t live without?”
“Not you, that’s for damn sure.”
“No.” His partner folded his arms and leaned against the door, as if he had all the time in the world to spend on this ridiculous conversation. “Not me. Who?”
His heart kicked in his chest. Hard and sharp, like a boot heel to his sternum. He opened his mouth to say nobody, because that was the right answer—the answer best suited to both their plans—but a different response clawed its way out of his throat. “Madison.”
Holy shit.
But true. The truth vibrated in his bones. His soul. He drew in a deep breath and his headache backed off a bit. “Madison and Joy. I can’t imagine my life without them, and they’re here, in Atlanta.”
“Not just in Atlanta, Hunt. They’re in your house. Under your roof. Even if you stay local, do you really want them in an apartment across town?”
Hell no. Somewhere between the side of the I-75 and the umpteenth three a.m. feeding, he’d gone and done the one thing he couldn’t afford to do. He’d fallen in love with them, and no amount of sticking to his plans would undo it. He wanted them with him, but… “It’s what she wants.”
Beau swept that aside with an impatient hand. “Uh-uh. Moving into her own place is one means to an end. She wants to feel needed, not needy. She wants to respect herself and feel like she brings something important to the table.” He shoved Hunter’s shoulder. “Find a way to get her there without loading up her car.”
Hunter shoved him back. “Beau, the woman is stubborn. I can’t just sit her down and tell her how it’s going to be.”
“Like I don’t know a thing about stubborn women? You’ve met Savannah, right? I didn’t say sit her down and tell her how it’s going to be. Try telling her how you feel. Here’s a helpful hint, Romeo. Women love weddings. It’s a perfect time to bare your heart.”
And left him four days to prepare, so he could do it right.
…
“She looks adorable in this one.” Nelle danced Joy in front of the mirror above the dresser, admiring the way the skirt of the red velvet dress swirled.
Madison smiled up at them from her place on the guestroom rug and folded another of the little outfits Rachel had given her. “You said the same thing about the last dress, and the one before.”
“Can I help if she looks adorable in everything? Anyway”—she sat on the bed and gestured at the selection of tiny dresses and shoes scattered around on the comforter—“Joy’s got plenty of clothes to choose from. I’m more curious to see what you’re planning to wear to this wedding.”
Yeah. Me, too. She picked a fuzz ball off her baggy black V-neck sweater and then plucked the frayed edge of a worn-to-threads tear at the knee of her jeans. “I’m not sure yet.” Her belly was almost back to pre-pregnancy proportions, but thanks to breastfeeding and pumping, she still couldn’t pack her tits into her old clothes. Even if she could, her options were limited. Madison Foley wasn’t normally on the fancy wedding guest list. She didn’t want to embarrass Hunter by showing up in something inappropriate, but she found the expense of a new dress hard to justify.
“Show me the short list,” Nelle said.
Madison managed a laugh and got to her feet. “It’s a very short list, consisting of two choices.” She opened the closet and pulled out her black maternity button-down dress—a twin to the blue one she’d been wearing the day Joy arrived. “I know this is kind of casual, but I thought with a belt, some dark tights, and my black heels… Maybe?”
“Hmm.” Nelle tipped her head to the side and considered the dress, a slight frown tugging the corners of her mouth. “What’s the other option?”
Right. No amount of accessories would turn a button-down into a ball gown. She hung the dress back up and reached deeper into the closet. “There’s this.” She pulled out a short, sleeveless, pearl gray dress in a shimmery fabric.
The older woman’s frown faded. “That is definitely the one you should wear. It’s perfect. The color sets off your eyes, and the cut flatters a young figure like yours.”
“Ha.” She held the dress up to herself. “That’s nice of you to say, but the truth is I’m not sure it fits anymore. I got this when I first arrived in Atlanta. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant yet. Cody told me to buy something pretty so he could take me out on the town, and I fell in love with this. I thought it was so classy and sophisticated.”
“And you were right on both counts. We’ll make it fit. That’s what Spanx are for. Try it on.”
She stripped in the bathroom and shimmied into the dress. It fit through the hips and middle, which encouraged her. She worked the zipper as far up as her reach would allow and then walked back to the bedroom. “Can I trouble you to zip me?”
“Sure thing. Here.” She handed Joy over. Madison turned to face the mirror, held Joy so they were back-to-front, and then smiled and waved to the baby’s reflection. Nelle ran the zipper to the end of its track and stepped back.
Madison exhaled. “Holy sh—moly. It fits.”
“It fits like a dream. How does it feel?”
“Good. Not too tight. Maybe a little snug in the”—she shifted Joy to her hip, and her eyes dropped to the neckline—“oh my God. I can’t go out in public like this.”
“What?” Nelle’s brow furrowed. “Why on earth not?”
Seven months ago the fitted neckline displayed a tasteful glimpse of cleavage. Now it displayed…too much. She turned and faced her neighbor. “I look like a reject from The Real Housewives of Atlanta.”
“You look amazing. Sophisticated, classy, and sexy. Sure, your figure is different now, but trust me, when you’re my age, you’ll look back on these days and wonder what you had to be self-conscious about. You’ll wonder why you didn’t celebrate everything you had going on.”
“I don’t want people to be whispering behind their hands about the best man’s date.”
Nelle put her hands on Madison’s shoulders and turned her back to the mirror. “All they’ll say is, ‘How’d he get so lucky?’ Look at you. Hunter Knox won’t know what hit him.”
She fiddled with the neckline and considered the dress again. The idea of blowing Hunter away held appeal. Was it so wrong to want him to see her as sophisticated, classy, and sexy? To pretend he’d asked her to be his date because she beguiled him, and not because she was a sex-starved single mama with a heap of troubles who happened to tap into his hyperactive sense of responsibility?
Yeah, right. As if the right dress would magically transform her into a woman who had her act together—the kind of woman Hunter belonged with. She sat heavily on the bed and bounced Joy on her knee. For the billionth time, she wished they’d met under normal circumstances—nobody as the rescuer, nobody needing rescue—just a cute paramedic who’d walked into the coffee shop one morning and flashed his sexy smile at her. She shook the pointless fantasy out of her head. “Nelle, I’m the lucky one in the Hunter-Madison dynamic, and we all know it. We also know this is not some big romance. He’s helping me out. It’s temporary.”
She was helping him, too, in her own small way, assuming the envelope she’d put in the outgoing mail earlier this week counted for anything.
Nelle rested her hands on Madison’s shoulders and met her eyes in the mirror. “I want to give you something to think about, honey. Hunter’s been my neighbor quite a few years. In that time, I’ve seen a steady stream of women come and go,
and you know what?”
She already spent too much time thinking about Hunter’s steady stream of women, but Nelle seemed to expect a reply, so she said, “What?”
“You’re the only one who hasn’t been temporary.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Excellent choice, sir.” The Tyra Banks lookalike behind the jewelry counter smiled at Hunter and repositioned the diamond ring on the black velvet mat for maximum sparkle. “No girl in her right mind could say no to that face”—she pointed at him—“and this ring.”
“He’s got some compensating to do,” Beau opined from beside him. “Do you have anything bigger?”
“You’re going to have my big footprint on your ass in about a second.” He elbowed his partner away. “Go look at cufflinks or something. Better yet, get me a Jamba Juice at the food court. Turns out I don’t need your help with this.”
Beau elbowed him back. “You so need my help. I haven’t heard the sales pitch yet.”
“Sir.” The saleslady straightened. “We don’t pitch here. The beauty of our designs speaks for itself.”
“No, no. Not your sales pitch, miss.” Beau dropped his elbows on the counter, looked up at the clerk, and flashed a quick smile. “I’m referring to his sales pitch.”
“Ah. I see. Before you launch into your sales pitch, let me take care of a little detail,” the clerk said, and turned her attention back to him. “This is a beautiful ring, and I want to make sure when you slip it on her finger, it fits like it was made for her. Do you know her ring size?”
“Five point five.”
Beau elbowed him again. “You asked her for her ring size? Kind of tipped your hand, don’t you think?”
“Give me some credit. I measured while she was asleep.”
“Perfect,” the saleslady said. “Let me go check this. I’ll be back shortly.” She sidled into the back room.
“So…” Beau leaned on the counter. “What’s your plan?”
“Get yourself a tissue first.”
“Why?”
“Because my plan is so amazing, when you hear it, you’re going to cry like you did the time the game delay forced us to watch that movie where Brad Pitt ages backwards.”
Beau grimaced. “I didn’t cry.”
“Bullshit. I saw a tear.”
“For Christ’s sake. I got emotional about the game delay.”
He smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt. “Whatever you say.”
“I say you’re no Brad Pitt. You’re going to need to do more than grin and bat your pretty blue eyes.”
Hunter brushed the comment away with a flick of his hand. “I’m going to do way more, and the slick part is you and Savannah actually do all the work.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to do a damn thing.”
“You two are going to set the mood.” He rested an elbow on the counter and grinned at his own genius. Look, women love weddings. That’s pretty much a scientific fact. They ooh and ahh over the dress and flowers. They get misty-eyed during the vows. On the estrogen scale of magic moments, weddings score an eleven. Madison’s going to soak in all the romance—the I-do’s, the first dance, my amusing-yet-endearing best man toast. Hell, maybe she’ll even catch the bouquet. By the time we walk out of the reception, she’ll be drunk on love, marriage, and happily-ever-after. I’ll be like, ‘That was a great wedding,’ and she’ll be all, ‘Best wedding ever.’ And then I’ll bring out the ring and say ‘Hold up, baby. I think we could do even better.’”
His grin expanded to a smile as he imagined the parade of emotions crossing her beautiful face—first confusion, then wide-eyed surprise, and finally, dazzling happiness. “That shit is tight, right?”
Beau frowned. “I guess.”
“What kind of a half-assed response is, ‘I guess’?”
“It’s slick, I’ll give you that, but the ring doesn’t actually speak your heart. Where’s the I-love-you?”
Now Hunter frowned. “It’s in there. Somewhere.”
“Don’t bury your lead, but also don’t figure you can hang everything on three words and a rock. Women care about the reasons. Madison needs to know you’re proposing for the right ones.”
Hunter straightened and leaned a hip against the counter. “And just what are the right reasons?”
“You have to come up with those on your own.”
The sales lady walked through the doors separating the back room from the showroom. She carried a small velvet box in her hand. “I’ve got the right size.”
Reasons. Hell, he was fixing to offer her close to four thousand reasons. He tossed his credit card on the counter. “Let’s do this.”
…
“Thank you so much for the baby clothes,” Madison said and drew a fingertip through the condensation clinging to the plastic cup holding her break-time tea.
Rachel sat across the small table from Madison, sipped her mocha, and waved a hand. “No problem. I hope Joy gets a lot of wear out of them. Also, it was a good time to clear out some closet space, as it happens, because I may need to pack up and move back in with my mom.”
“Why? I thought you had an apartment near here.”
Rachel sighed. “I do. But my roommate went to visit her actor-wannabe boyfriend in L.A. earlier this month, and she called yesterday to tell me she’s staying. She’s going to support him while he pursues his dream. Meanwhile, I’m screwed if I can’t find someone to move in and cover her part of the rent by the end of March.”
“I’m looking for an affordable place.” She blurted the statement out in one quick breath, tried not to lose her nerve when her heart turned heavy in her chest, and clutched hard at the prospect of not drifting off to sleep next to Hunter’s warm, solid body every night. Not waking with his strong arms wrapped around her and his heart beating slow and steady under her cheek. Not watching him snuggle Joy against his chest.
He needs his space. You need yours. This was always the plan.
“Oh, my God.” Rachel leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. “Would you really be interested? It’s nothing fancy…a three bedroom apartment about ten minutes away from here. Very safe. Bliss and I have lived there since she was a baby. I sub-lease the third bedroom for one-third of the rent. It’s a good-sized space, and I’ve got the basic furnishing in there—full-sized bed, dresser, and night table. There’s room for a crib, plus you get a full bath all to yourselves.”
She sucked down a big gulp of tea to dislodge the lump in her throat, and nodded. “I would be interested. But are you sure you want to rent to someone with a baby? Joy doesn’t sleep through the night yet.”
Stop trying to talk her out of it.
“Madison, I don’t want to burst your bubble, but Bliss is three and she doesn’t sleep through the night. I’m used to it. Basically, at this point, unless it’s my kid screaming in my ear, I can sleep through anything. Bliss, on the other hand, will out-mommy us both.” She laughed. “You should see her at nursery school. She always wants to help with the babies. If you move in, you can enroll Joy in the same school. Bliss has gone there since she was about Joy’s age, and she loves it. They have a great caregiver-to-kid ratio, and the company offsets some of the cost as one of their family benefits, so it’s affordable.”
This could work. She hadn’t quite saved up first and last month’s rent, plus a security deposit for her own place, but maybe if she moved in with Rachel, she’d be able to swing the cost. “How much?”
The figure Rachel gave fit her budget, and then she added, “You could move in before March first. My roommate paid through the end of the month because she didn’t want to completely hose me, but she’s not coming back, so”—she shrugged—“I’m sure she’d be grateful for even a partial month refund.”
This was a good possibility, probably an ideal solution. So what if she wanted to curl up into a ball and cry? That was nothing to go by.
You knew this was going to hurt, but that doesn’t make it any less right. It’s time
. The words echoed through her mind in her grandmother’s voice.
She squared her shoulders and willed a smile to her lips. “When could I come by and take a look?”
“Let’s see.” Rachel tapped her index finger to her chin. “I’ve got to pack some things for my roommate—former roommate—and ship them to her, and then clean. Want to swing by Saturday, after our shift?”
She sipped her tea and considered the logistics. Take a quick look at the apartment, pick up Joy, change, and be on her way to Magnolia Grove. Maybe she’d surprise Hunter with news at the wedding? The longest rescue in history was finally coming to an end. He could have his life back.
He could have her heart, too, if he wanted it, but fairness—and, okay, also pride—demanded she offer it while standing on her own two feet.
That sounded like a huge step in the right direction. She nodded. “Saturday sounds fine.”
“What do you think?” Rachel leaned against the doorframe and bit her lip.
“I think”—Madison turned a slow circle in the center of the generously sized bedroom—“it’s perfect.”
The blonde jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “Oh, good! I’m really happy you like the place.”
“I do.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her brand new checkbook. “Can I write you a check today?”
“Sure. And I’ll give you keys. That way you can move in anytime. Follow me.”
She followed Rachel down the hall, through the open, airy living room, and took a seat at the kitchen counter.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” She wrote out the check, her pulse pounding with excitement and nerves. “I have to get going. Joy and I are headed to a wedding this evening.”
“Fun.”
“I hope so.” Hunter had brought his tux home yesterday, and she’d experienced an immediate, overwhelming desire to see him in the dark suit. She’d gotten him out of his jeans and T-shirt easily enough, but then she’d gotten distracted. Very distracted. She detached the check from the checkbook and handed it to Rachel.
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