Page 100 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Izzy’s soft voice and gentle grasp on his wrist interrupted his pointless scrubbing and fast talking. Talk so fast that, upon a mental replay, it might have qualified as a rant. Chasing calm, he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before responding. “What?”

“Lilah knows what she wants. She does,” she insisted when he shook his head to disagree. “She wants to stay on at the inn as an equal partner, which she’s more than earned in my opinion, but, more importantly, in Rose’s and her own opinion. She wants to raise her child here. Again, can’t fault her. That would be hypocritical since Trace and I want to raise ours here as well.”

“That’s entirely different. You’ve both lived other places, had other experiences. Captivity’s not a default for you and Trace, it’s an informed choice, and…” Wait. “You and Trace want to what?”

She smiled a smile so serene it reminded him of Lilah’s and placed her hands on her abdomen. “We want to raise our daughter here as well.”

“Holy crap. You’re pregnant?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, all smiles.

“And it’s a girl?”

“Well, that remains to be seen,” Izzy admitted. “Add it to the bet board. My twenty’s on girl.”

“Wow.” Despite the battering he was taking tonight regarding his personal life, he felt a smile lifting his lips. “Congratulations to you and Trace. When are you due?” And then another thought struck. Due date. Labor. Tiny little Izzy pushing out a whopper of a baby courtesy of super-size Trace. He couldn’t hold back a shudder. “Also, how?”

She laughed and rested her linked hands on the bar. “The traditional way, I expect.”

“Uh-uh.” He covered her hands with one of his. “Don’t do that. Bad idea.”

“Relax.” She worked one hand free and patted his. “It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t see how.”

She patted his hand again, then eased away, still smiling. “You really are the sweetest man. I can’t fault Lilah’s choice there, either.”

“I can,” Bridget chimed. “Underneath all those sweet protective instincts he has toward her is some plain old disrespect.”

“That’s bullshit.” He swung toward her. His head pounded behind the spot where she’d flicked him. “I have nothing but respect for her. I think she’s amazing. Smart, resourceful, beautiful, and brave. She can do anything. Anything. I don’t want to see her trapped. I don’t want to be part of that trap. I want her to…to…have everything she wants,” he finished, lamely, well aware of what Bridget would say in response. “I want to give her time and space to figure out what that is.”

But Bridget didn’t utter a word. It was Izzy who said, “How much time? How much space? Everything she wants is here. How much time are you going to let slip by, while she’s right there at arm’s reach, until she proves it to your satisfaction? Because that would be kinda…sorry…foolish, don’t you think?”

“Yah.” Jorg nodded. “Foolish to be here”—he pointed at Ford—“and Lilah there”—he pointed toward the inn—“for months? A year? Five years? Bah.” He threw up his hands. “Life is too short to waste time.”

Izzy grinned at the old man. “Excellent point, Jorg.” To Ford, she added, “If you respect her, you respect her decisions. What she wants isn’t in question. There’s actually only one open question.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the heel of his hand over his forehead. “What’s that?”

Bridget leaned over the bar, gripped his shoulders, and kissed his forehead before looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“I want what’s best for Lilah,” he said stubbornly. Even he heard the dogged note in his voice.

Bridget blinked at him, then sat back, held out her hand, and snapped, “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Christ, you’re a hard case. Just give me your fucking phone.”

He drew it out of his back pocket and tossed it to her, along with a long-suffering sigh. “Call Archer and tell him to come take you out of my hair.”

“Ha. You’re very funny.” She tapped his screen, scrolling for something, then, with a small sound of satisfaction, turned the phone toward him. “There. Face it. That’s what’s best for Lilah.”

She’d pulled up the shot she’d taken at the Urgent Care center, just after Shayla’s birth. Lilah held the baby in her arms, staring down at her little girl with all kinds of adoration literally shining from her. He held Lilah in his arms, staring at her with every raw, unfiltered emotion naked on his face. Awe…pride. Love.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The cracks in his foundation turned to fractures.

“Tell you what else, Ford,” she went on.

He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“That’s what’s best for you, too. For you, and Mia and Lilah and Shayla. And the thing is, it’s already yours. It’s in your arms. All you have to do is hold on to it.”

---