Page 78 of Parker

Harper’s being super emo and weird, I think, staring at the text. I wonder if she’s pregnant again…

PARKER:

Harp, I know you love me. I love you too. See you Saturday.

***

Quinn

“Just heat up the bottle at six thirty, give it to her in the nursery rocking chair, and put her in the crib after burping her, okay? She may fuss for a few minutes, but I promise she’ll nod off by seven. She’s had a long day…haven’t you, baby girl?”

Harper’s giving me babysitting instructions as Joe holds Wren in his beefy arms, staring at me like I’m there to take her out on her first date.Woe to the kid who actually does take Wren out on her first date. That kid will have a lot to answer for!

“No problem,” I say. “Stop worrying. I’ve got this.”

True story. I was a very popular local babysitter when I was in high school. Moms in Skagway knew that I was great with rowdy little boys and delicate baby girls alike. I’ve always had a way with kids. I can’t wait to have one of my own someday…which reminds me of the little girl who grabbed Parker’s legs in the aquarium. Parker was so sweet to her, so understanding and gentle.

My stomach twists with despair.

It’s been two weeks since we left Vegas and I haven’t heard a word—not a single word—from her, despite sending her numerous texts asking to meet up and talk. Sawyer insists she’ll come around, but I’m not so sure. Without the benefit of talking to her, it feels like she still blames me for the Jones’ video. As the days between Vegas and forever disappear one by one, I feel more and more certain that she doesn’t trust me and doesn’t want to be with me.

And yet…I hope.

Ithurtsto hold on to hope. Most days it’s a rare kind of torture. But I’m trying to be strong. I won’t give up on her. Notyet, anyway. I’ve loved her for too long. And what we had in Vegas, however briefly, was too good.

“Any questions?” asks Harper.

“Nope,” I say, opening my arms to take nine-month-old Wren from Joe.

“You drop her, you die,” says her father under his breath.

“I’m not gonna drop her,” I promise. I lift her from Joe’s arms, grinning down at her as she stares up at me. “Hey, cutie.”

“Coo-ee,” she repeats with a sweet baby giggle that melts my heart.

“Looks like love at first sight to me,” says Harper, slinging a purse over her shoulder. She takes Joe’s hand and pulls him toward the door. “Come on. You owe me a date night, Sheriff.”

“Our cellphones will be on,” says Joe. “Call us anytime. I mean it.Anytime.”

“Will do,” I say. “But we’ll be fine.”

“We’re headed to dinner and line dancing at the Parsnip,” says Harper. “Should be back by nine.”

“No rush! Enjoy yourselves,” I tell them, sitting down on the couch and putting on the Disney Channel for Wren. She giggles when Mickey Mouse fills up the screen. “We’re good! Now, go!”

Wren sits in the crook of my side, with my arm around her small body as we watch the Disney Channel together. Half an hour goes by in the blink of an eye.

“Uncle Sawyer’s best buddy, Quinn, is gonna start your bottle now,” I tell her, plopping her in the activity-center seat as I head to the kitchen to heat up her milk. I pop the pre-made bottle into the warmer, and switch it on.

Meanwhile, Wren bangs on the colorful plastic piano keys, while shoving a rubber cactus into her mouth with glee.

“Who’s gonna be the next Taylor Swift?” I ask her.

Bang, bang, bang.Clang, clang, clang.

More cheerful, dissonant music follows.

“You are!” I say. “That’s right!”

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