Page 81 of Stowaway Whirlwind
“I have an in at a popular diner and know for a fact I could get you a job there the minute you get to town.”
“And housing?”
I hadn’t thought about that, but I quickly tell her, “We have two spare bedrooms you and your kids can stay in until you get on your feet.” I know Davis will be the first to jump in to help. Iknow, too, without a shred of doubt, that our whole community will.
The office door swings open behind her, and Cherish, the new general manager who looks as tired as the rest of the staff, motions for Teagan to enter. Teagan turns halfway, then stops to say, “I’ll think about it.”
I nod and blow out a breath once she closes the door behind her, feeling better now that we’ve spoken instead of having held my tongue, thinking it’s not my place to butt into her life.
With my baby doing pole vaults on my bladder, I use the clay-tiled ladies’ room, the yellow fluorescent lighting flickering above. I exit with my head down, wiping at a spot of spaghetti sauce that had dripped onto my white maternity shirt—a poor wardrobe choice for dinner—with a wet paper towel.
“Marigold.”
I take an automatic step back, unprepared for running into Colton when this area isn’t his typical haunt. I say his name with nothing short of disgust as I stare up at the boy I thought I loved, his light brown hair floppy on top.
He’s dressed as always in a solid polo shirt, of which he has every color, and fitted khaki shorts, but the hems are all worn, the colors washed out. Not just his clothes, buthim. And it’s no wonder after everything that went down with his mother, who I’m sure is no longer financially or otherwise able to support him.
I want to ask him what he’s doing here and if he’s still in college until I realize—I don’t care. Not about his schooling, how his mother’s trial has affected him, or anything else for that matter.
For several awkward seconds, neither of us says a word, each on edge. And then his blue eyes dip to my belly. “You’re pregnant.” Not a question.
“Yes.” The uneasy feeling on the drive here strengthens, and without another word, I sidestep him, quickening my pace until I’m at Davis’s side, Lily sitting on his lap. “Time to go,” I say in a low but urgent voice.
Davis immediately stands, searching the dining room behind me as I drop the wet paper towel on the table and stuff Lily’s giraffe teething toy and dirty bib with bits of spaghetti noodles stuck to the fabric into her diaper bag before swinging it onto my shoulder.
“Marigold.”
My name in Colton’s mouth is harsh, and I jump at the hand he lays on my lower back, not having heard him follow me out of the hall. I shudder and skirt away, my eyes flying to Davis’s face, his gaze hard as he stares down the man who dared to touch me without my permission.
“Who are you?” Davis asks after handing Lily to me. I never thought of Colton as short since he’s at least half a foot taller than me, but Davis’s impressive height and bulk make him appear small.
I tuck Lily on my hip and press her face into my shoulder, not caring that the streaks of leftover marinara on her chin will stain my shirt.
Colton looks at me as if he expects me to introduce them, and his frown deepens when I don’t. He sticks his hand out to Davis. “I’m Colton.”
Davis crosses his arms over his chest instead of shaking his hand. He raises his voice. “And how do you know my wife?”
I think Colton experiences the same shock I feel, his eyes swinging back and forth between Davis and me, again expecting me to step in for him.What a freaking child, looking for Mommy to step in and tell him what to do.
Davis inches forward, almost chest to chest with Colton, while I slink toward the front door, hoping Colton doesn’t notice. “I said, how do you know my wife?”
“I-I…”
Davis cocks his head. “You what? Speak up.”
Lily makes a noise of frustration, turning her head this way and that, and Colton’s attention cuts to her face. I swear I see his pupils dilate as he zeroes in on her, and his mouth drops open. “She’s my—”
I don’t know whichshehe is referring to, but either way, Davis doesn’t like it. Neither do I.
Davis cuts him off, jamming his finger into Colton’s chest. “She’s your nothing.”
Colton finally picks up on the underlying threat in Davis’s voice and backs up. We’re drawing plenty of attention, and the already hushed restaurant falls silent. It’s like that scene in Dallas all over again, and I start to sweat from more than just the high temperature.
“But—”
“She ismy wife, and that little girl ismy daughter.”
“No—”
