Saved by the Single Dad (The Single Dads of Seattle Book 3)

by Whitley Cox

  Paige shifted on her feet. They were in the shade of the big patio umbrella, and the evening wasn’t overly hot, but her body was an inferno. This man had a keen ability to turn her body to lava with just a few words. Hell, with just a look.

  “Nine o’clock. Side gate. And bring a condom.” Then she walked away and began to help Violet gather the plates and take them inside, unable to control the giant smile that seemed to have become permanently plastered to her face.

  Click.

  11

  Mitch pulled into the McPhersons’ driveway. The clock on the dash of his car said eight fifty-eight.

  Thankfully, Jayda had been exhausted and fell asleep with no problem. She’d been dead on her feet by the time they arrived home from dinner, asking to skip her bath and instead just head straight to bed.

  Mitch hadn’t argued.

  She was asleep before he even left her room, and during the hour he spent doing photo edits on his laptop downstairs, he didn’t hear so much as a peep from upstairs.

  Violet and Adam were watching a movie in the living room, with Adam planning to spend the night, so Mitch was free and clear to head over to see Paige.

  He thought it would be weird, letting Adam know that Mitch was heading over to see his ex-wife at nine o’clock at night, but Adam didn’t seem the least bit fazed or put out by it. If anything, he seemed relieved that Paige was moving on.

  Mitch pushed the sound of dueling banjos out of his head as he shut the door of his car and made his way up the driveway toward the side gate that led to the pool house.

  Even though it hardly made a sound, the scrape of the metal gate lock echoed around the quiet backyard like a gong in a cave.

  Slowly, he made his way up the path.

  All the lights in the house were off, but the backyard remained illuminated by small solar garden lights staked into the ground three feet apart all around the flower beds. It made the whole garden look like a fairy haven.

  The door behind him opened, and he spun around, expecting to find one of Paige’s parents with a baseball bat, ready to take out the intruder.

  He threw his hands in the air to claim innocence, that he wasn’t there to defile their daughter in a hammock.

  Paige’s chuckle made him put his arms down.

  “What are you doing?” She closed the door behind her, a couple of blankets, a bottle of wine and two wineglasses in her arms. It also looked like she had a baby monitor clipped to her hip.

  He shook his head. “I thought you were your parents.”

  “And so you tossed your hands in the air to let them know you were unarmed?”

  He rolled his eyes and took the wine and glasses from her. “Something like that.”

  “They know you’re coming over.” She stepped ahead of him and led him through the garden and around the side of the house, where fruit trees lined up like leafy sentries, protecting the yard from the prying eyes of both the neighbors and the sun.

  “They do?”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t keep secrets from my parents. Our relationship is open, honest and adult. They also really like you.”

  It still felt weird to know that her parents were aware of him coming over in the middle of the night to talk with their daughter.

  Maybe it was because Mitch had the completely opposite relationship with his parents that he just couldn’t understand it.

  She stopped in front of a wide, blue-and-white-striped hammock, kicked off her sandals, placed the blankets and baby monitor on the grass and then gingerly slipped onto the hammock. Once she was on, he handed her the wine bottle and glasses, then kicked off his own shoes and joined her.

  “They were devastated at first,” she started, twisting off the top of the wine bottle and pouring the first glass, “with the divorce between Adam and I. My parents love Adam, and they thought we’d be able to work it out.”

  Mitch accepted the glass from her. “And why didn’t you?”

  She let out a shaky breath before leaning over the side of the hammock and putting the wine bottle down on the ground. Then she leaned back in the hammock to stare up at the stars. Mitch followed her.

  “After we lost Anthony, I went into a bit of a tailspin,” she started. “I’d lost three other babies after Mira, all at various stages of pregnancy. But they’d all been miscarriages. They were hard. Almost impossible to bear, particularly the last one, because the baby had been sixteen weeks, and I’d already started to feel it moving inside me.”

  Mitch reached for her hand and linked their fingers together. She squeezed, and he squeezed back.

  “So when we got pregnant with Anthony and the pregnancy went past sixteen weeks, I became a nervous wreck. I was paranoid that something was going to happen to him. That I would eventually lose this one too. Compared to Mira’s pregnancy, it was a walk in the park. No morning sickness, no gestational diabetes, no hypothyroidism, nothing. But that didn’t help. I didn’t want to talk about the pregnancy, didn’t want anyone to touch my belly out of fear something might happen to the baby. I made myself sick.”

  He glanced over at her and could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. This had to be hard for her to talk about. But he also knew that she wanted to. She was a strong enough woman that if she wanted to change the subject she would, and he would just have to deal with it. But this was part of them getting to know each other. She was showing him another side of herself, the vulnerable side, the injured side. So he just remained quiet and held her hand.

  “On Anthony’s due date, I knew something was wrong. His movements had slowed right down, and I could just feel it in my gut that he was in distress. We called the doctor, and they downplayed my nervousness. Probably because I’d been a train wreck the entire pregnancy, so they were tired of my theatrics.”

  Mitch growled. He hoped to fucking God that hadn’t been the case.

  “But Adam insisted they see us, so we went in, and they checked on the baby. Sure enough, he was in distress. His heart rate had dropped alarmingly low. They ran us to the hospital and performed an emergency C-section, but it was too late. The cord had wrapped tight around his neck, and he was stillborn.”

  Mitch’s breath rattled in his chest as he struggled to keep it together. He could not even imagine the pain Paige had been through. To lose so many babies, particularly one at birth who had been healthy and viable just hours before—it was a miracle she was still as vibrant and full of life as she was.

  “I went off the rails after that. I wanted nothing to do with Adam or Mira. I tried to harm myself in the hospital room bathroom. They had to sedate me and strap me to my bed. I didn’t want to live anymore. I wanted to be with my babies. The nurses pressured me to pump and donate my milk to other infants who needed it, but I couldn’t. I knew I should have, but I just couldn’t. Their guilt tripping was strong, though. They even sent a mother and her new baby into my room to try to convince me to pump. She’d had breast cancer and a double mastectomy, so she couldn’t breastfeed. Turns out the nurses hadn’t told her why I was in there, and when she found out that I’d lost my baby, she broke down, apologized and left.”

  “Holy fuck. I hope you sued those fucking nurses.”

  She made a noise in her throat that he took to mean she hadn’t, but she wished she had. “Anyway, once they discharged me, Adam and my parents agreed that it would be a good idea if I went to a facility for a while.” She glanced over at him, and even in the darkness he could tell she held fear in her eyes. “Not a mental hospital.”

  He squeezed her hand again to reassure her that even if it was, he didn’t judge her; he didn’t care. “I didn’t think that.”

  “It was a therapy retreat center in Colorado. They had meditation and counseling, yoga and mindfulness. I was there for eight weeks.”

  “And did it help?”

  She nodded, turning her face away from his again to stare straight up through the branches of the trees once more. “It did. My therapist there helpe
d me realize that I had fallen out of love with myself. I hated myself for what I had done. For what had happened. I blamed myself for losing all those babies. I considered myself a failure and unworthy of love. Anybody’s love. She didn’t tell me to leave Adam, but she helped me come to the realization that in order to heal, I needed to feel guilt-free, and that I would never feel guilt-free if I stayed with Adam. I would always believe deep down that he blamed me for losing the babies. That I lost his children. I failed him.”

  “Did Adam say those things?” Anger bubbled in Mitch’s veins. Adam didn’t strike him as that kind of a rat bastard.

  She shook her head. “Not at all. He was so supportive through all of it. Gave me whatever I needed. But in the end, I think that made it worse, that he didn’t blame me.” She exhaled. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

  “I think no such thing.”

  She squeezed his hand again, and her chest rose and fell on a big exhale. “Thank you.”

  They both stopped to take long, quenching sips of their wine. Mitch could tell she wasn’t finished yet. She wanted to get it all off her chest, all out in the open.

  “It didn’t matter what kind of reassurance Adam gave me. I felt like I had failed him. Like I had failed us. Particularly with Anthony because he had been perfect. I’d carried him to term no problem. But I’d also been so nervous that I began to think all my anxieties became toxic for him, that I transferred all of my stress to him, and that’s what caused him to be stillborn.”

  “No, that wasn’t it at all.” Mitch’s heart ached for the woman beside him. He wanted to take her in his arms and not let her go until she understood that none of it was her fault, that she wasn’t a failure. That she was worthy of love, worthy of a fulfilling and meaningful life.

  “Deep down I know that, but I can’t help how I feel. So I ended the marriage. I needed to love myself again before I could even fathom the idea of someone else loving me. And I didn’t want to put Adam and Mira through that. She needed stability and a parent present and always there for her, and he needed a partner who wasn’t a depressed flight risk. I gave him custody. But I think I’m ready to ask for us to renegotiate our agreement. I think I’m ready for shared custody.”

  “That’s great. You’re an amazing mother, and Mira just adores you. If you feel ready, I’m sure Adam will have no problem sitting down to sort something out with you.”

  She mhmmed and sighed. “I also want to get a place of my own. Move out of here and get a place for Mira and me. But I won’t do that until after my surgery.”

  “Surgery?”

  “I’m getting my tubes tied. I’m done having children—or should I say, I’m done losing them.”

  “You don’t know if that would—”

  She cut him off. “I’m not willing to risk it. I have Mira, and that’s all I was obviously meant to have. I couldn’t handle another loss.” She turned to face him. “It would destroy me.”

  He nodded. Her eyes’ piercing golden-brown shards speared him. Even with the muted light from all the solar lights, he could still see the intensity, still see the conviction and expression written all over her face.

  “I support you,” he finally said. “Whatever you need from me, I support your choice. Your body, your choice. Always.”

  “Thank you. I know Adam resented me for a long time for ending our marriage. He said he’d do anything if I would just try again. But I couldn’t. I had failed him. He kept saying that it was our loss. That we lost the babies. And I would get mad at him and say that I lost them. The pain on his face was more than I could bear. I felt that if I called them my losses, then it was just my failure for me. But when he called them our losses, I felt like I had failed him too. That I had somehow killed his children and that no matter what he said, he held some resentment toward me for it. Like something I was doing or not doing was the reason we kept losing the babies.”

  “That’s not it at all. Please tell me you know that now.”

  “I do … in some ways. It’s still hard. I think I’ll always feel like I failed him. Like I failed us. Failed Mira. Failed our family.”

  “Is that what your solo dance performance was about?”

  “Yes. My therapist suggested I find something to channel my feelings into. A sort of creative outlet where I can be in my own head, let my thoughts run free and have my body do the explaining. It was a constructive sort of therapy that I’ve come to almost rely on each week to release all the negative thoughts inside my head. I don’t know what I would do without that class … without Violet.”

  Mitch finished his wine, then carefully placed his glass on the ground beside them. Paige did the same.

  He shifted so that he was lying on his side, facing her. “Look at me.”

  She rolled to her side as well. Spiked lashes and watery eyes blinked up at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down so much. It’s just when I get talking about it, I can’t really stop. I need to get it all out, otherwise it just festers inside of me.” She averted her eyes and stared at their still intertwined hands. “I understand if you’re overwhelmed and want to head home. It’s a lot to process.”

  He released her hand and grabbed her by the side of the head so she could focus on him and only him. “Look at me, Paige. Look. At. Me.”

  Once more, she lifted her gaze to his.

  “You are not blame. You hear me?”

  Her bottom lip trembled, and her whole body shook. She didn’t believe him. After all this time, after everything she’d been through—therapy, divorce, all of it—she still didn’t believe that she wasn’t at fault.

  “It was not your fault. Sometimes super fucking shitty things happen in life, and it is not fair. I will never tell you that those babies weren’t meant to be, or everything happens for a reason, because that’s simply not true. Those babies should have been welcomed into this world, happy and healthy, by two loving parents. But they weren’t, and that’s fucked up. Big time. But it is not your fault that they weren’t. You didn’t kill them. You’re not a bad mother because you couldn’t carry them to term. You are one of the strongest, most courageous women I’ve ever met, and you are an amazing mother to Mira. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

  A tear sprinted down her cheek. Without letting go of her head, he wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb.

  “You need to believe that you are not the monster you think you are, because if you keep letting the demons on your shoulder convince you that you are, you’ll never get better. You’ll never enjoy the life you have ahead of you.”

  “But what about my babies’ lives? What about Anthony?” she stammered, more tears trickling down the crease of her nose. “How can I move on? How can I live my life when they didn’t even get a chance at theirs? Should I just pretend that they never existed? Ignore their due dates as they come and go each year? Ignore the what ifs and if onlys in my head?”

  He shook his head. “No. You mourn them like you would any other person in your life. Like I mourn Melissa and my father. But you don’t let the grief cripple you. Melissa wouldn’t have wanted it to cripple me, and neither would my father. And those babies, if they’d come to term and grown into children and adults, would never want you to give up because of them.”

  “I just feel like this ultimate failure.”

  He wiped more of her tears away before pressing a kiss to her forehead. She needed the comfort, the connection, and truth be told, so did he.

  “I understand how you feel like a failure,” he started.

  Her head shot up from where she’d been staring at their knotted hands. Surprise made her eyes go wide.

  “I felt like a failure when I lost Melissa. That I should have been able to do something to save her.”

  Now it was her turn to cup his cheek. “There wasn’t anything you could do to save her.”

  “I know. But I still feel like had I been … ”

  “But then Jayda could be without e
ither of her parents.”

  He nodded, taking her hand from his cheek and kissing the inside of her palm. “I’ve never told anybody this, but Melissa was twelve weeks pregnant with twins when she was killed. We'd also lost one baby after Jayda was born before Melissa died in the accident.”

  Paige’s breath hitched. “No,” she whispered, more tears sliding down her cheek. “She lost so much.”

  “We lost so much,” he gently corrected. “Those were my babies too. My wife. I lost children; I lost a partner. Jayda lost a mother. She lost siblings.”

  She nodded. “Right. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Just know, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not overwhelmed. I don’t need to process. What I need is for you to trust me and continue to open up like you have here tonight. I want the real deal with you, Paige and I’m willing to put in the work to get it.”

  She brushed her lips against his before saying, “I’m going to be a lot of work. There’s a lot of self-doubt going on upstairs.” She pointed at her head.

  Her breath was warm against his mouth, the sweet smell of the wine and the fragrant flowers in the garden a heady combination. “Yeah, but I already know you’re worth it.” Then he sealed his lips over hers and did his best to ease her pain, easing his own heartache in the process.

  12

  Paige loved the way she felt when she was with Mitch.

  Desired.

  Sexy.

  Whole.

  Mitch was a clean slate. A fresh start.

  And yet at the same time, he knew all of her secrets, all of her flaws, and he still wanted her. He still pursued her despite the fact that she wasn’t perfect, that she was scarred and broken.

  He slid his tongue into her mouth, possession in every stroke.

  Paige dissolved against him, welcoming his arms around her, his body over hers as they set the hammock to a gentle rocking. He settled in between her legs, never breaking their kiss. Even through his khaki shorts, she could tell his length was impressive as his thick erection pressed against her thigh, causing a rush of heat to shoot through her.