Page 113 of One and Only

The door into the house opened again, this time by Erik’s wife—she was telling Greer a story with big movements of her hands. The sound of Greer’s laughter preceded her, and when she walked through the door, Erik and Lydia’s daughter in her arms, I felt like someone had punctured my lung with a steel beam.

Even though Lydia was talking to her, Greer’s focus was entirely on the baby. She held her small body up against her chest, her shock of dark hair against her face. She placed soft kisses along the baby’s forehead, only stopping to inhale greedily.

“She smells so good,” Greer said. “Why does she smell so good?”

Lydia laughed. “Well, she got a bath at the hotel this morning because she had a blowout, so…”

Greer made a nose-scrunching face, then blew in the baby’s neck, which drew a sweet gurgling sound from the child. “You wouldn’t do that to Auntie Greer, would you?”

The sight of Greer holding that baby would haunt me for another sleepless night.

It was too much.

Because it was far too late to realize that maybe she’d already ruined me, even without knowing how she felt. How her skin would be under mine, or what noises she made when we kissed.

The room was getting hot around me, the sounds of so much laughter and ease and love.

Erik approached his wife, stealing a lingering kiss while Greer nuzzled their daughter. Cameron reached behind his mom to swipe a piece of bread. Tim said he was going to go down to the barn so he could see Olive with the kittens.

All of it was too much.

Something I’d lied to get.

Something I’d done nothing to deserve. Not for myself or for Olive.

I’d let all of this get too far. Stupidly thinking that by drawing some arbitrary line in the sand when it came to Greer that we could all escape unscathed.

But none of us would be.

Not Olive.

Not Greer or her family.

And not me.

Through the windows, I saw Olive and Poppy returning to the house.

Tim met them in the front yard, and when he gestured to the large play set around the back of the house, Olive nodded.

And she skipped as she went, one of her sure signs that she was happy.

Because of this place. And these people.

“Excuse me,” I said to Cameron. Greer gave me a questioning look when I let myself out the front door.

I braced my hands on the front porch, staring out into the endless acres of fir trees that lined the Wilder’s property.

I tried to imagine what it would have been like to be raised in such a place, with people like this.

The door opened quietly, and instead of Greer, it was Sheila Wilder. She had an understanding look in her eyes.

“You all right, Beckett?”

I straightened. “Didn’t mean to make a scene. Just needed some fresh air.”

She glanced back into the house, her eyes landing on her daughter, who was watching us while she rocked the baby gently.

“You didn’t,” she assured me. “I just know that look when someone isn’t quite sure what to do with all of us. You’re not the first who’s been overwhelmed by this family.”

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