I want to be married. I want a family and children of my own, but I don’t want to settle for anything less than the real deal. The dream.
I want what my parents had, the kind of love that keeps you going through the hard times and makes the good times all the sweeter. The kind that keeps the “happy accidents” coming because you just can’t keep your hands off of each other. (Mom swears none of us were accidents, but I have my suspicions, especially about Phoenix and Denver, my twin little brothers who came along twelve years after the sibling before them.)
And no, I don’t want eleven happy accidents, but three or four would be nice.
More than nice.
I already have good friends, hobbies I enjoy, and work I love. All that’s missing is the family, and I’m tired of waiting.
I’m also…lonely. I have more extended family than most, but I still come home to an empty house after work every day. My friends and family are too busy with their own lives and careers to make time for socializing during the week. There are times when I ache for the sound of another human voice. Or for a hug at the end of a long day.
The thought of opening the door to Felicity’s laughter for the next few months is enough to keep a smile on my face the rest of the morning.
I smile as I fetch the crib and slide it into the back of my truck. I smile as I pop over to the flower shop on Main Street to grab a bouquet for Aria. I’m still smiling as I hustle through the humid air and up the courthouse steps, even though it’s already pushing ninety and I’m wearing a suit.
I’m beginning to think my grin is unbreakable.
Then I push through the doors to the courthouse to see Aria standing by the windows, waiting for me in a shaft of morning light, and my smile falls clean away.
Chapter Ten
Nash
Aria’s hair is arranged in an elaborate pile on her head with wisps framing her face in a way that emphasizes her big eyes. She’s wearing a short, sleeveless white dress, revealing constellations of shoulder freckles that are almost unbearably cute. Her legs are also bare, and her high-heel sandals make them look even longer, and sexier, than usual.
She’s breathtaking, so beautiful it’s almost painful to look at her.
I nearly tell her so, but at the last minute I remember who I’m talking to and toss out a casual, “You clean up nice.”
She glances up from her phone, her focus flicking up and down my frame in a way that makes me feel the summer heat even though the courthouse air is cranking at full tilt. “Thanks. You too.” She tucks her cell into her purse and exhales through pursed lips. “Are those for me?”
For a moment I have no idea what she’s talking about—I’m still too distracted by how damned pretty she looks—but then I remember the flowers in my hand and hold them out.
“Yeah. Hope you like calla lilies. The woman at the shop said they were good wedding flowers.”
“They’re beautiful,” she says, a smile flashing on her face for a moment before it vanishes again. “Thank you.” She plucks at the cellophane wrapped around the flowers and lets out another shaky breath.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my pants. “Nervous?”
Her dark green eyes catch mine, making my tie feel too tight. “I just… I was up all night thinking,” she says, in a soft, troubled voice. “This isn’t just about you and me. Felicity is part of it, too, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt her.”
I fight the urge to get defensive.
This isn’t a personal attack; this is Aria being a good mother. She’s right to take Felicity’s needs into consideration.
“I understand,” I say. “But I think Felicity’s a sweet little girl. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“Oh, I know, of course not,” Aria says in a rush, the certainty in her voice sending a rush of warmth through my chest. “I just… I mean… Even at the BBQ that night, when she’d just met you, she had so much fun playing with you and stealing the food off of your plate…” She bites her lip, looking so worried I have to fight the urge to pull her into my arms for a hug. “What if she gets attached? What happens when it’s time for us to end it and she doesn’t understand why you’re not around anymore?”
She has a point. One I haven’t really considered.
What will we do? I doubt there’s any standard protocol for how to handle an ongoing relationship with your fake-ex-wife’s baby, but I do know there’s always room in my life for another niece or nephew.