Page 74 of Kissing Her Rescuer

With a grimace, she mumbled, “it broke.”

“Well, hell.” Eva laughed as tears came to her eyes. “I'm going to be an aunt again.” She patted Eliza’s back. “Are you okay? I don't want you to decide to stay with my brother because of a baby. That's not right for either one of you. You know he'll support you both, no matter what you decide.”

It scared her, trusting Dewey completely, but she had to try. If she trusted any man, it was him. Knowing she was pregnant didn't change her feelings, but it did put everything into perspective. It was time to grow-up and work through her relationship. For both kids. For her heart. She wanted Dewey.

24

Eliza's text was vague.

On my way back. Please meet me at the house before the rehearsal dinner so we can talk.

Dewey didn't bother calling Eva for information. He wanted Eliza to explain herself. Although they wouldn't have a long time to talk. They had to be at the church for the rehearsal for the wedding in an hour.

He’d struggled to get his emotions under control when he’d showed up at the house before they arrived. He’d walked to Carrie’s bedroom, staring at the explosion of pink. His little girl would be home soon.

Shaking his head, he walked back down the stairs to wait for them outside. There wasn't anything she could say that would justify her actions. She'd run away with Carrie, and his mind couldn't get over that fact. Each time it resurfaced, his body tensed with anger.

Eliza's SUV pulled into the driveway and parked beside his truck. He rose from the porch, waiting for them to emerge. He heard Carrie's squeals before the door opened. She hit the ground running, straight to him, and up into his waiting arms. He twirled her around, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. Tension rushed from his body with the weight of her in his arms.

“I missed you, Princess.”

She gave him one more tight squeeze. “Me, too. I told Mommy the next time we go to visit Aunt Eva that you should come. They have chocolate covered marshmallows in Savannah.”

“Those sound delicious.” He ran a hand over her hair, setting her down on the porch. “Is your mommy okay?”

Carrie looked back over her shoulder. “I don't know. I guess. Her and Aunt Eva cried a lot. I know that.” She stood up straight and looked him dead in the eyes. “But I didn’t cry because you said Princesses were tough.”

“That’s right.”

“I love you, Daddy, and I missed you bunches.”

Great. His seven-year-old could make it without crying, and those words made a lump the size of Georgia appear in his throat. “I love you, too. Why don't you go ahead and run in and get a shower? You have the rehearsal dinner tonight for Grandpa's wedding.”

Carrie let her head roll backward. “But, I took a shower yesterday.”

“And you need another one today. Flower girls should smell like flowers.” He nudged her toward the door. “Scoot. Your mom will be up there soon to help wash your hair.”

She trudged through the door and stomped up the stairs, dramatic with each step. He smiled. She was back home and safe.

“Hi.” Eliza stopped in front of him, her overnight bag on her shoulder. He took it from her and set it to the side. “I guess I owe you an explanation?”

Dewey crossed his arms. “That's a pretty good guess.” He wanted to hold her. The worry and stress from wondering if she was okay faded as she stood before him. He'd practiced a dozen different speeches. Each one made him sound livid and irate from her actions, especially leaving without a trace with his daughter. And he had been.

“First,” she began. “I'm sorry. I realize I shouldn't have done that.”

Her skin looked nearly translucent. Her body was a little thinner than before and was nearly swallowed up under the oversized T-shirt she wore. She hadn't been eating. Or sleeping judging by the dark circles under her eyes.

“You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I know. I am.”

She grimaced and looked away. “I have something we need to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. The house.”

“Right. Of course.” She stared at her feet. “The house.”

He’d tried to prep for this part of the speech, too, but couldn’t remember anything he’d practiced. “I’m sorry.”

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