Page 22 of Be My Baby

“Give them time. I have no doubt they’ll love it. All of them.Bothof you will always be welcome as family. Even if this doesn’t work, you’ll be welcome just as you are.”

She bit her trembling lower lip. Max’s gaze focused on it, sending a shaft of longing through her.

A deep-seated awareness wound through her. She wantedhim, not just the possibility of a child with him. But how did she tell him that? Her gaze caught on the glint of his wedding band, still on his finger. She knew that Lucy’s memory still held him in a grip so tight that he wouldn’t evenlookat another woman. Defeat flooded her veins. If she was indeed right, Max still grieved Lucy, and she couldn’t fight a ghost.

Millie let go of his shirt and scrubbed at her face. She tried to smile at him.

“I’m okay. Give me a few minutes to sort myself out?”

Max nodded, concern giving way to a gentle teasing light in his eyes. “Sure can. Can’t have you crying all over the salad. It’ll wilt.”

She shoved his chest and choked out a huffing laugh. “Stop it.” She turned back to the basin and turned on the taps. “I won’t be long. Can you stall for me?”

Max already had the door open. He faced her with a grin as he pulled the door closed. “Won’t need to. The meat’s not ready yet. They’re still arguing about the best way to grill the steak.”

Millie let out a real laugh this time.

Some things never changed.

*

“Dad mentioned whatyou discussed with him last week.”

Max, up to his elbows in soapsuds in the sink, pulled his gaze from out the kitchen window and turned his head at his mother’s soft words. “Oh?”

A quick glance around the room confirmed no one was inside other than them. Raucous laughter sounded from outside.

His mother sighed and came to lean against the countertop beside the sink. She grabbed a tea towel and started wiping up the trays that hadn’t fit in the softly humming dishwasher behind her.

“Are you sure about her, Max? Really sure?”

Heat flushed Max’s neck. He focused on scrubbing a particularly stubborn tray covered in marinade.

“It’s not about being sure of her.” He bit his bottom lip for a long moment, debating his next words. He let out a silent sigh. “What makes you ask?”

He shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t give his mother the opening he knew she wanted, because she’d been at him for years to start dating again, but at the same time he wanted to hear her thoughts on the subject. Both of his parents had always given great advice, even when their children didn’t want to hear it—particularlywhen they didn’t want to hear it.

Mary Jameson huffed a pained laugh and placed the now-dry pan on the counter and reached for another.

“Oh, just the fact that anyone with eyes can see you’re lonely. A child could be a very good thing indeed, my boy… But, are you sure she’s the one to attempt this with?”

Max glanced at her, his brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to the others unless you say it’s all right. I just don’t know if I can fully support this.”

Max frowned at her. She truly was this worried that she was openly opposing it? He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand.

“I love you, Max. I don’t want to see you hurt. Millie hasn’t exactly been affectionate to you in the past.”

Max huffed a protest. His mother held up her hand. “I know you’re friends. That’s entirely different. And if you’re lucky enough that a baby results? Is that all she wants from us? A baby with a Jameson name?”

“Mother!” Hurt and shock vied for attention and flooded his veins. Max stood straight and faced her fully. “Is that what you really think of her, that she’s weaselling her way into our family any way she can?” He shook his head, shocked at the turn the conversation had taken. “I’d expect this from Darby, but not you. I thoughtyoumight understand.”

Pained frustration lit Mary’s eyes. Her shoulders took on a stiffness Max knew from his teenage life meant he had a fight on his hands.

Dammit!

He didn’t need this, not now. He needed some support. Someone to tell him it was the right thing to do. That his own mother opposed it made his gut churn with disappointment and confusion, dredging up his own misgivings that he was a consolation prize.

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