Shayla’s tiny arm swung out, with fingers splayed. Trace cupped her in one huge hand, supported her against his chest, and gently stroked her palm with the index finger of his other hand. Immediately, the small fist closed around it, grasping tight.
Trace looked over at her and Archer and cocked one dark brow. “Looks like she’s chosen her favorite uncle.”
“I hate to burst your bubble,” Archer said, “but that’s a reflex.”
“Reflex, my butt.” He smiled down at Shayla. “Whose you favorite uncle, huh? Trace. That’s right. Uncle Trace. Oh, are you gonna try saying it?”
The baby yawned and made a fussing sound.
“Looks like her favorite uncle is boring her to tears,” Archer observed and walked over. “Better let the expert take over.”
Trace handed her to Archer, who held against his shoulder, rubbed her little back, and soothed her into a sleepy-eyed state of bliss.
Her own eyelids felt heavy by the time Archer passed the now-sleeping newborn off to Wing.
Low conversation hummed around her, but she didn’t try to tune it in. As long as the baby remained quiet, she was content to do the same. Maybe just rest her eyes a minute…
Something tickled her temple, jolting her awake. Trace’s bearded jaw brushed her skin as he planted a quick kiss on her forehead. “I think it’s time we let both these beautiful girls get some rest.”
Oh, God. How rude. She’d fallen asleep right there in front of everyone, including her host and hostess. A quick scan of the room revealed someone had already put Shayla in her bassinet, where she slept like an angel. “Sorry.” The apology came out slightly garbled, and completely ignored, as her friends wrapped her in hugs, well-wishes, and filed out. Izzy hung back. When they were alone, she turned to Lilah and smiled.
“Do you need any help getting ready for bed?”
“No. I’m good.” The urge to yawn snuck up on her and couldn’t be suppressed. “Gosh. Sorry. I guess I’m half asleep already.”
“Oh, please. Don’t apologize.” Izzy held out a hand to help her out of the rocker and surprised her with the strength she packed into her petite frame. “We should be apologizing to you for keeping you up. Next time, kick us out when you need rest.”
Kick them out of a room in their own home? Impossible. Manners drilled into her from an early age cringed at the thought. But the whole situation emphasized her need to find her own space, all the more pressing now that Trace and Izzy would be setting up their own nursery. They needed to focus on preparing for parenthood, not helping her deal with hers. Tomorrow she’d make some calls. Find something clean, safe, and affordable. There had to be one option in Captivity, even in the high season. An option that wasn’t the inn.
Thoughts of the inn pushed another issue to the forefront of her mind. She tried to push it back, put it aside, but the question sprang from her lips before she could stop herself. “Um, I don’t know if you would know this, Izzy, but has anyone talked to my mother?”
Izzy’s big brown eyes filled with sympathy. “Bridget called her and left a message letting her know she’s a grandma. That’s the best she could do since Rose wasn’t in town today…well, yesterday. She flew to Anchorage. I think she returns later today.”
Anchorage. Huh. Her mom was in Anchorage. Mad and Ford were in Anchorage. Anchorage, it seemed, was the place to be. Lilah contemplated the information as she lay in the bed with the bassinet pulled close, listening to Shayla’s soft little breaths. Colorful stars projected by tiny lightbulbs under the plastic shell of a musical sea turtle danced on the ceiling, turning it into a lightshow of faraway destinations. Very pretty, her sleepy thoughts acknowledged, but apparently not as alluring as Anchorage.