Page 1 of The Third Girl

CHAPTER 1

MATT

No sooner have I walked through the doorway and into my parents’ home than Sailor squirms in my arms, wanting to be let down. At twenty months old, my daughter already knows her mind—and she’s well aware of where she is. The moment her feet hit the ground, her tiny legs churn a mile a minute as she toddles through the house, looking for Nana Claire or Pop-Pop. This is like her second home, she’s here so frequently.

With pin-straight blonde hair, bright-blue eyes, and dainty features, my daughter looks an awful lot like her mother. That fact fills me with so much love and the deepest heartache. I miss Terri so damn much. I can’t believe I lost her or that she’s missing out on our baby growing up.

I turn the corner into the big room that serves as both dining area and kitchen to find the rest of my family has already arrived. My sister, Lucy, is busy helping Mom put the finishing touches on our meal. Her husband, Mick, a detective on the force, sits with Dad and my younger brother, Travis, at the table—the three of them deep in conversation about one case or another, I’m sure. Kennedy, Travis’s fiancée, paces the floor with Lucy and Mick’s infant son, Aidan, patting his back. I smile inwardly. My nephew is one of the calmer babies I’ve ever been around. Definitely a far cry from Sailor, who came into the world screaming, and I swear most days she’s bound and determined to live her life the same way.

Speaking of, my feisty sprite of a daughter races back to me with a big grin on her face, her chubby finger pointing to a green St. Patrick’s Day headband she now wears, complete with springs sticking up off of it like antennae. Two little shamrocks bounce around with every step Sailor takes. She stops in front of me with a big cheesy grin. “Yook, Daddy!”

Too freaking cute. I can’t help but smile as I squat down to her level. “Whatcha got there, baby girl?”

“Samwock ears!”

“Oh, shamrock ears.Nice.”

“Matt? Where’s the cute shirt I bought for Sailor to wear today?”

My brows draw together, and I scratch my head, focusing on my mother as she comes over to the table carrying some napkins and a handful of silverware. “Sorry, what?”

“The St. Patrick’s Day one. With the cute leprechaun on it? It had a rainbow leading to a pot of gold.” She tilts her head to the side. “I did give it to you, didn’t I?”

I cringe, belatedly remembering the shirt she’d sent home with Sailor last week. Damn, it seems I can’t keep track of anything lately. “Yeah, Mom. I’m so sorry. To be honest, I didn’t realize it was St. Patrick’s Day.”

She frowns. “Oh, Matt. I should have reminded you. You’ve got a lot on your mind.” Her underlying meaning is clear—she knows this will probably be one of the more difficult weeks of my life with the anniversary of Terri’s death approaching. I’ve been turning a blind eye to it, not wanting it to be my reality.

Standing up, I sigh, shaking my head. “Sorry, I’ll put her in it before she goes to sleep and make sure I take a photo for you.”

“If you remember, that’d be great.” She holds her arms out, wrapping them around me. “And if you don’t, that’s okay, too. I understand.” Mom is pretty much the kindest soul; laid back and calm, nurturing. The very definition of the wordmotherly. And she’s a wonderful grandma to Sailor and Aidan. I’m fortunate that Mom and Dad have been willing to help out with Sailor since Terri’s death—I recognize that they didn’t have to, but I suppose that’s what family is for.

I squeeze her back tightly. “I’ll try,” I murmur gruffly. Clearing my throat, I let her go.

“Would you mind helping Lucy bring the food out? I’ll see if I can get Pop-Pop to grab Sailor and settle her into the high chair.”

I chuckle. “Good luck. She’s been pretty obstinate lately at home. Always wanting to sit on my lap to eat at the table like a big girl.” Sailor’s a spitfire, and I know she doesn’t get that from me or her mother. That’s all her aunt Lucy. With a nod, I head over to join my sister where she’s putting serving spoons and forks with each dish. “Hey, Luce.”

She glances quickly at me as she digs into the drawer for another spoon. “Hey.”

“How’re things at the bakery?” I’ve gotta say, the determination Lucy had in rebuilding her bakery after it burned to the ground showed me that her sometimes stubborn and always independent streak is not a terrible trait to have. She’s known all her life what she wants and has gone after it. So, the fact that Sailor takes after her is not necessarily a bad thing—simply a tedious one in the toddler years.

“Good. I had to hire another part-time worker for the back to keep up with demand. How are things with you?” She raises her brow in a high arch.

I release a semi-exasperated breath. Yep, Mom and Lucy have definitely been talking. But my unending misery is not a topic I want to broach right before we sit down to dinner. I run my hand over the stubble coming in on my cheek and prop my hip against the counter. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” I quickly change the subject. “What are we eating?” I make a point of eyeing the various dishes and sniffing the air. “Smells good, whatever it is.”

“There’s corned beef, mashed potatoes, mushy peas, fried cabbage with bacon—Mom had me look up Irish recipes—and these buttery scones. I’m not sure if they’d typically be eaten with dinner, but they’re to die for. Oh! And I made mac ’n’ cheese for Sailor. I know how much she loves it.”

Lucy’s a sucker for making my kid happy, and for that I’m grateful. “Sounds good. What can I help you with?”

She shoots me a smile and shrugs. “Just getting everything to the table.”

After three trips back and forth, we’ve got everything that we need. I sit down to the left of Dad where he’s sitting at the head of the table. He’s got Sailor’s high chair pulled up next to him at the corner.

“Sailor Jane.” Dad’s deep chuckle resonates through the room. “Why don’t you try using this pretty blue fork Nana Claire bought for you?”

She shakes her willful head, wrinkling her nose at him. He wrinkles his nose right back at her.

Come to think of it, Lucy and Sailor both probably take after Dad, which isn’t a bad thing. If I could be half the father for Sailor that my dad has been for us, she’ll be in good shape. Dad’s a gentle giant, stern when he needs to be, but a loving family man. He’s also the best boss I could have hoped for, and it’ll be rough whenever he retires because I can’t imagine working for anyone else.

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