Chapter Five
Judd Mathews
IT’S HOSPITAL DISCHARGE DAY. I’M thankful Leighton was there so that I wasn’t the one to receive all of Scarlett’s discharge instructions. I wouldn’t have a clue as to what to do for her once we’re home.
She has some lingering medical issues, but I can’t believe how far Scarlett has come from being that tiny little two-pound newborn. Lung complications, sleep apnea, digestive problems. The list would be a long one if I named all of her complications, but she managed to pull through, and now she’s a little tigress ready to take on the world.
I’m driving Leighton’s new Audi SUV from Austin to Mason while she sits in the backseat with Scarlett. I can’t resist stealing glances at them in the rearview mirror when Leighton isn’t looking . . . which is basically the whole drive home. All of her attention is on my daughter.
It feels peculiar sometimes—Leighton’s obvious lack of interest in me or my money or my success. I’m accustomed to women throwing themselves at me and trying to use me for anything they can get. But that’s not who Leighton is—and thank God for that.
She isn’t the kind of woman who frequents dark, smoky honky-tonks or tosses back whiskey like it’s water or has one-night stands with a man she’ll never see again. She’s nurturing, wholesome, and respectable. I know a quality woman when I see one, and there’s no mistaking this one. Leighton Mitchell is the kind of woman you marry and hold so tightly that no other man can ever take her from you.
She giggles, and I look at the rearview mirror to steal another glance at her. She’s looking at Scarlett and smiling. “What is it?”
“She just blossomed and then smiled.”
“Blossomed?”
“Little ladies don’t . . . fart. They blossom. And they also don’t sweat. They glisten. You should know these things; you have a sister.”
Leighton didn’t know Sally Kate when she was a kid. “My sister was a tomboy. She farted like a man, just like my friends and our cousins and me. Probably even louder.”
Leighton giggles. “Your sister doesn’t strike me as a tomboy . . . who would fart like a man.”
“She changed when she met her husband, Brandon. Decided she wanted to look and act like a girl since that’s what he liked.” Women should never change to become what a man wants. But it happens every day.
“Your sister is so pretty and feminine. I can’t imagine her ever being a tomboy.”
“Imagine a female version of me with long hair, except with green eyes instead of brown, and you’ll have a relatively good idea of what she used to look like.”
Those were the good ole days when I didn’t have to worry about little fuckers trying to mess around with her. And I’m going to be back in the same boat when Scarlett gets older. Always worried about some little shit trying to get into her pants.
“You and your sister favor a lot.” Leighton looks up at me in the mirror. “I don’t know what her mother looked like, but I think that Scarlett resembles you quite a bit.”
“My mother thinks so too, but I don’t see it.”
“Her eyes and lips are shaped like yours. Her nose is different, but sometimes I see something in her profile that reminds me of you.”
I’m surprised to hear that Leighton has noticed my facial features enough to have an opinion about the characteristics that Scarlett and I share. I thought she had little to no interest in me, based on our interactions. Is it possible that her indifference toward me is some kind of pretense?
We luck out, and Scarlett sleeps during the whole drive home from Austin. Maybe another thing she gets from me. I basically drift into a coma every time we travel from one city to the next. Something about riding soothes me into a deep sleep.
“We’re home, Miss prissy pants.” Leighton leans over to release Scarlett’s car seat from its base. “Make that Miss stinky pants.”
“The princess did more than a blossom?”
“Definitely more than a blossom going on down there.”
Scarlett wakes during the shuffle from the car to the house, and it triggers the onset of a huge shit fit.
I place her car seat on the kitchen counter, and Leighton goes to work on unfastening the buckles.
“Whoa, little lady. Calm yourself. I’m getting you out of there as fast as I can.”
Scarlett screams and turns blood red, and all I can think about is how glad I am that Leighton is here. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with my own daughter. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She always has a come-apart when she’s dirty.”
I’m her father, but I know so little about Scarlett. Leighton is the one who knows my daughter. Her behaviors. Her habits. What she wants. What she needs.
She knows things the way a mother knows things.
“You’re very good with her.” She deciphers all of these things that Scarlett isn’t able to tell us. It’s amazing.
“I hope that I’m good with her since that’s why you hired me.”
“I think that you’ll make an excellent mother.” I truly believe that.
Leighton smiles, but something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe one day.”
“You plan on having children?”
She breathes in deeply and exhales slowly. “I’d like to . . . if I could find a husband who didn’t lie and cheat on me behind my back like the last one.”
The last one? “You’ve been married?”
“Unfortunately.” Leighton brings Scarlett to her shoulder and rubs her hand in a circular motion over her back. “I was almost five months pregnant when I found out that he was cheating. I lost the baby a week later. She was stillborn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Her name was Sadie. And I still mourn losing her, but I’ve come to accept that she wasn’t intended to live here with me. It brings me comfort to believe that I’ll be with her one day . . . so that’s what I choose to believe.”
I don’t have a clue about how I should reply, but Leighton saves me when she crinkles her nose and says, “I know a little girl who needs her diaper changed right now.”
Leighton leaves the kitchen, but not my mind.
I can’t believe she was married. And had a daughter who died. That is completely unexpected. And it proves that I don’t know this woman at all.
But I want to.