Page 32 of The SEALs' Single Mom Baby Surprise

“I’m going to call for some food, and I’ll start cleaning up.” But I’m stuck for a moment, watching as he walks her around the living room and talks to her softly.

Reese nods and says something back.

Cole looks up at me before disappearing into our room and reappearing with my daughter’s blue stuffed monkey tucked into his chest with her arm.

Part of me is envious that he gets to stand there and cuddle with her while my emotions flap in the wind. I feel like a loose thread on the verge of being snipped.

I call a local diner that does deliveries and order us dinner before picking up the mail and other fallen papers in the living room. The pillows and cushions slot easily back onto the couch. One of the blankets I’ve had since I left my parents’ house spreads over the top, making the piece of furniture seem much more mine.

It’s one of the few pieces I still have from my former life. Something my grandmother made for me before she died—a patchwork of clothes from my mom’s baby clothes as well as mine.

Cleaning up the living room doesn’t take long. The package of curtains, I shove back in the box. I don’t have the tools to hang them yet, and the window by the table brings in a lot of nice sunlight during the mornings. Hanging them hasn’t been a priority.

I put away the few extra dishes Warren packed up for me from his son’s college days instead of closing them back up in the cardboard boxes they came in.

I’ve been slowly unpacking things over the last couple of days. But I wasn’t lying when I said we don’t have much.

I left almost everything at Alistair’s just so we could get away fast. Get away before he came home from his evening lecture.

The new lease, the new bank account, the new bills and address forms, those I could do without his knowing for a time, but I couldn’t pre-pack my things.

So I focused on the necessities—clothes, shoes, and Reese’s things. She didn’t have many toys. Alistair was against spoiling her, but I’d snuck her enough smaller things to amass a collection. And I took the important things from her growing up. The memories.

That’s what most of this is. I’ve picked up a few things secondhand to fill in the kitchen enough to make some simpler things, and a few dishes to eat on.

Almost all of my money has been depleted by the deposit and the first month’s rent.

Gripping the counter by the sink, I push back at the overwhelm threatening me again. My world has been too topsy-turvy for too long.

We have so little, and it’s been violated again.

My daughter’s things were violated, and it prods that hot anger in my chest, building it into a frenzy with no outlet.

I turn to the fridge, opening it and pretending to examine the contents when I already know how little we have inside. A gallon of milk, eggs, cheese, bread.

But it’s easy enough to hide the tears that prick my eyes again when I bend into the cold air.

Someone knocks on the door, rattling the thin wood in its frame.

I jump and spin toward it.

I’m not sure how it’s stayed closed, but I bet Cole has something to do with it.

And he’s already there, peeking through the peephole and opening it.

It’s just the food, which Cole pays for smoothly, even with my daughter still in his arms.

I hate how easy this seems for him. Managing her. Managing me.

Turning again, I grab plates from the cupboard. We have a set of four, which works well for us. And I don’t realize how badly I’m shaking until I glimpse Cole setting Reese down out of the corner of my eye and gently ushering her to the bathroom to clean up.

“Go on. I’m going to help your mom set the table while you clean up.”

When she disappears into the bathroom, I’m so close to collapsing.

Cole’s hands are on my shoulders, and the solid heat of him behind me as his touch smooths down my arms topples my control.

Tears make tracks down my cheeks even as Cole’s soft voice finds my ear to make me promises there’s no way he can keep.

---