Page 26 of All You Need Is Love

Finally, he sat back, looked up at her, and closed the file, where he’d taken voracious notes throughout the talk. “There’s one more thing I need to address.”

“Okay.” Already his rapid-fire questions had riddled her with holes, each one hurting more than the last. But what was one more?

“When I first arrived, I could have sworn you were drunk. I need to know if that’s something you often do.”

“What?” Her jaw dropped and her fingernails bit into her palms as she curled her hands inward. “No, I don’t drink. Maybe a glass of wine here or there, but no. I was just really tired. I didn’t sleep well last night and had a horrible headache when you arrived.”

He whipped the file open again and clicked his pen once more. “Does that happen often? A lack of sleep?” Cocking his head, he waited for her reply.

“Um, sometimes? But no, it’s not common.”

“Because having children means you probably won’t get a lot of sleep. But you still have to be able to function well enough to put their needs first.”

“Of course.” Shannon blinked past the exhaustion hovering over her.

“And since you don’t have a partner to help you, how will you handle those times when you are too tired or too sick to properly care for a child?”

“I don’t know. Call my mom probably.” Even though her parents had initially been somewhat concerned about her adoption plans, undoubtedly they’d be here if Shannon needed them.

Although they did both work full time. So maybe she should have confirmed their availability before potentially speaking out of turn …

Ugh. She nearly groaned. Quinn would have had a plan outlined and ready to go. She’d have flashed that confident smile and gained Mr. Peters’ trust in an instant.

“You don’t know?” The man shook his head, closed the file, gathered up his things, and stood. “Maybe you’re not as ready as you thought.”

Shannon managed a slight nod of her head. A tear splashed onto her hands, finally loosed. Because maybe he was right.

* * *

Today, Marshall had one job—pick up a pizza for lunch at Tyler and Gabrielle’s house.

That’s all Quinn trusted him with apparently. Not that he blamed her after last night’s fiasco. How had he let himself get so drawn in by a pair of baby blues?

No more. From now on, he was going to stick to Quinn’s side like glue, visualize the promotion he had coming, and stay far away from Shannon Baker.

Yeah, the plan hadn’t worked so far, but now … well, he just had to remember what was at stake.

Marshall walked down the sidewalk headed for Main Street—specifically, Froggies, the restaurant Quinn’s family owned. As he curved around the corner, the church where he’d made a spectacle of himself last night came into view. The ocean glistened just beyond as docked boats bobbed in the marina waters, the sun beating down a happy greeting.

He stopped to admire the view. Man, this place was beautiful—and not baking hot at the moment like Manhattan, where the summer humidity always left him in dire need of a shower after five minutes outside.

And yet, last night he’d been reminded of just how small Walker Beach was. Already today, on his morning run for coffee at the Frosted Cake, he’d been approached by two strangers—Carlotta something and Jim Walsh, the mayor—telling him they’d heard what a great voice he had. Carlotta had waxed on about how amazing it was that he’d gotten “shy Shannon Baker” out of her shell enough to perform. Seemed like she would have talked his ear off completely if Quinn hadn’t tugged him away by the elbow.

Much as he’d enjoyed some aspects of being here, he couldn’t wait to return to the big city, where his personal life remained his business.

Shaking his head, Marshall took off on his quest for pizza again, but halted at the sight of a blonde with a golden retriever ducking through a small gate next to the church.

Shannon.

And it looked, by all accounts, like she was crying as she disappeared from his view.

Aw, man. Marshall lifted his hands to the back of his head, threading his fingers together as he looked upward. What did he do now? He’d been so determined to stay focused—but she was alone except for her dog, and something was clearly wrong.

Before he could change his mind, he followed her. On the other side of the gate, the vista opened up completely, unblocked by buildings or boardwalks. A bed of grass covered the church’s backyard and abutted the sand of the public beach. And there sat Shannon on the edge of the grass, her face buried in Lucky’s fur, shoulders heaving.

His heart tugged him forward. “Hey.”

She started and glanced up, streaks of black running down her cheeks. “Marshall? What are you doing here?”

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