Page 60 of The Biker Needs A Nanny

“Thanks. What is it?” I dip my head and sniff.

“It’s a Malibu Sunset.”

“What’s in it?”

“Pineapple juice, coconut rum, and Grenadine.”

I take a sip. “Oh, that’s good.”

He takes a seat, and we watch the sunset.

“Can I ask you something, Grace?”

I turn toward him. “Sure.”

“Why are you here?”

“Excuse me?” I frown.

“I mean here in this town? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

I start to hum without even realizing it.

“Now, see? That.” He points at me. “You always hum that tune when you seem nervous.It’s a Small World.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. What’s with that?”

“When I was a little girl, my mother took me to Florida, to the most magical place on earth. We rode that ride, and itwasmagical. To me it was, anyway. We floated in the boat, and my mother put her arm around me. I was so happy.” My smile trembles.

“Sounds nice.”

“It was before she got sick, or maybe she already knew she was sick. I suppose that’s why we made that trip. She wanted to give me that.”

“I’m sorry, Grace.”

I blow out a breath. “Your turn. Tell me about your wife.”

He sips his drink and stares at the sinking sun. “I rarely talk about her. I guess Inevertalk about her.”

“Maybe it will help.”

He rolls the tall glass between his palms, staring at the horizon. “Melanie was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It progressed rapidly. We did everything we could, saw all the experts. She did every treatment they prescribed, but in the end, it was only a matter of time.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“She fought, and she hung on. She wanted to make it until Christmas. She wanted one more Christmas with her babies. They were three and four then. So little. She hung on, and she made it. I carried her to the living room and put her on the sofa, and she watched the girls’ eyes light up when they saw all the gifts Santa left them. She was happy that day, watching them open all the gifts.” He blows out a breath. “She was so tired. I carried her to bed and went to get her some lunch. When I came back with the tray, she was gone.” The muscles in his jaw work.

“Oh, Lucky. That’s why you hate the decorations.”

“I haven’t talked about this with anyone. Not until now. Not until you.”

I wrap an arm around him. “The grief you carry is huge. I know that. I know how it feels, like some days you just don’t want to get out of bed and face the world. But your girls? Iwasthem. I know what they feel, and I want you to know the importance of having fun with your girls. Even when life sucks, they need you, and you have to try.”

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