Page 9 of From Maybe to Baby

Time slows, like in those nature documentaries where they show a predator about to take down its prey. I turn to watch in horror as a small girl's shave ice—electric blue, a color definitely not found in nature—slips from its cone, performing a graceful arc through the air, before landing...

Right on my shoes.

The girl's face crumples. Oh God. Please don't?—

She wails. A sound that could shatter glass, attracting every parent within a fifty-foot radius. They all turn to stare at me, clearly expecting some sort of adult intervention.

"Just two weeks," I mutter, watching blue syrup seep between my toes. "What's the worst that could happen?"

The universe, never one to resist a challenge, immediately answers. A small redheaded boy races past, arms windmilling, screaming, "The volcano's gonna 'rupt."

I look across the lobby and outside to a massive pool complex dominated by another fake volcano that, according to the activity schedule Kai hands me, “erupts" every hour with a family-friendly display of water and light effects.

The speeding redhead crashes directly into a man entering the lobby. A very tall man. Who's also very good-looking, holding the hands of two equally good-looking children.

He steadies the boy with the practiced ease of someone used to tiny humans launching themselves into his orbit, then looks up.

Blue eyes meet mine.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Because suddenly "the worst that could happen" is six-feet-something of pure muscle wearing board shorts and a San Francisco Aftershocks cap, looking like every romance novel cover model who ever existed. Only better. Because he's real, and he's got a five o'clock shadow that probably violates several resort policies about appropriate levels of attractiveness.

And he's heading straight for the check-in desk. With two kids. Two very small, very energetic, definitely sticky-fingered kids.

"Miss Minty?" the bellman’s voice sounds far away. "Would you like to check in now?"

"I'd like to check out, actually," I mutter, still staring at Romance Novel Dad, who's trying to prevent one of his charges from rearranging the lobby's pineapple display. "Of life, if possible."

"The bar opens in ten minutes," he offers helpfully.

"Make it five and I'll mention you in my article."

He checks his dolphin-decorated watch. "I can have the bartender make you one in seven?"

"Close enough." I straighten my shoulders, fling my wet hair back over my shoulder, shake as much of the blue shave ice off my foot as I can, and smile at the check-in clerk Kai hands me off to. Romance Novel Dad has joined me, only a couple feet away, patiently waiting his turn. This time, he smiles.

Oh God.

Because suddenly two weeks feels like forever and not nearly long enough, all at the same time.

"Welcome, Miss Minty, to Hale Olu’olu where family dreams come true," the desk clerk says as she taps her keyboard.

I suppress the urge to tell her to go to hell, and hand her my American Express.

2

JONAS

ONE WEEK EARLIER

"Dad, Jacey stoled your phone again."

I'm in the middle of flipping pancakes—dinosaur-shaped, because apparently regular circles aren't good enough—when Lukas delivers this news with all the drama of a sports announcer calling a playoff game. Which, considering I am a professional hockey player, is cute.

"Stole," I correct automatically. "Jacestolemy phone."

"That's what I said." He bounces on his toes, his chocolate milk mustache quivering. "She stoled it after our call with Gamma."

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