Eleven
Will woke to the sound of a baby crying. It took him a moment to get his bearings. He glanced at the clock:
2:46
Owen had eaten a little before midnight, not that Will had been allowed to feed him. His mother, who was supposed to be on his side, kicked him out of the house right after interrupting them in Julianne’s bedroom.
“You will not bully that woman,” she’d said, pinching his ear between her fingers, much as she’d done when he was five. He was ashamed to say it still hurt. “You don’t have to trust her. You don’t have to even like her, but you will be civil to her.”
She’d shoved him out the back door, telling him to go find Gavin and not to come back until he’d cooled off. What his mother didn’t realize was that with Julianne living under the same roof, it was impossible for him to cool off. He’d accused her of being crazy, but really, it was Will who was nuts. Julianne made him that way. He felt guilty about the way he’d treated her earlier, but it was either bully her or toss her over his shoulder and give her an instant replay of their night on Sea Island—one she wouldn’t forget. The fact that she didn’t seem remotely interested frustrated him even more.
Owen was wailing now, and Will could hear Julianne shushing him in the kitchen. Sliding out of bed, he grabbed for a T-shirt to pull on with his gym shorts. He padded down the stairs in bare feet, arriving in the semidark kitchen just as Julianne dropped the plastic bottle on the floor. She unleashed an Italian curse.
Will almost swore himself at the scene before him. Julianne was wearing a long, flowing, sleeveless nightgown, the under-counter lighting leaving nothing to the imagination as to what was—or wasn’t—beneath. Like his, her feet were bare, except her toenails were adorned with bright pink polish. Her hair was wild, curling around her shoulders, Owen’s fist clenching a good chunk of it.
“Oww!” she cried as she tried to retrieve the bottle without dropping him. “Let go!”
Owen only screamed louder. Will bent down and grabbed the bottle, popping it into Owen’s mouth so he’d stop crying. The baby took a few gusty breaths before latching onto the nipple and guzzling. Julianne tried to pry her hair loose from Owen’s grip, but he seemed reluctant to let go of his mother. Will passed her the bottle and tried to work the baby’s fingers free.
“He’s got strong hands. He’ll make a great defensive player one day,” Will joked so as not to fixate on the silkiness of Julianne’s hair as he gently pulled it out of Owen’s now-relaxed hand.
“Thanks.”
The quiet of the house settled over them, the humming refrigerator and Owen’s suckling the only sounds in the night. Will was a bit shaken by the intimacy of the moment. He and Julianne stood, their bare feet nearly touching, with only their son between their bodies. Owen, who would forever link them together, closed his eyes in bliss as he drained the bottle. Will brushed a thumb over the baby’s head, and Owen propped open an eye at him before closing it again. Will looked up into Julianne’s eyes. They were red rimmed and swollen behind her smudged glasses. Had he done that to her?
Guilt weighed on him as he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “You’re dead on your feet. Sit.”
Julianne slid into the chair with a sigh, her body giving a little shake as she shifted Owen to a more comfortable position. Will went into the great room to grab a blanket off the sofa. Julianne’s eyes were drifting shut as he wrapped it around her shoulders. He poured her a glass of water and pulled a lemon bar from the container Gavin’s mom had given him earlier, placing the snack on a paper towel.
“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?” he asked as he set the water and lemon bar on the table beside her.
She glanced up, her eyes struggling to focus.
Will pulled another chair forward with his foot as he reached for Owen. “Gimme. You eat.”
Julianne didn’t resist, carefully transferring the baby into his arms. She picked at a piece of the lemon bar. “All you had to do was ask; you don’t need to bribe me to hold your son.”
“You’ll thank me when you taste it.”
She arched an eyebrow at him before popping the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes slid shut as she swallowed. “Mmmm. Where did you get this?” She tore off a larger piece and put it in her mouth.
“My other mother made them.”
Julianne wrapped the blanket around her more tightly. “You have more than one mother?”
“Uh-huh.” He pulled the bottle from Owen’s mouth and lifted him over his shoulder, gently rubbing his back. “Growing up, I practically lived at my friend Gavin’s house. There are five kids in the McAlister family, so one more wasn’t a stretch for them. My mom worked a lot. It was a place to go when no one was home. Mrs. McAlister, Patricia, is dying to get her hands on this little guy.” Owen burped, and Will returned him to the cradle of his arms, gently prodding the bottle back into his mouth. The baby’s eyes rolled back in his head as he began to suckle again. “I told her to give you a few days first to get acclimated before she descends on us.”
“Hey, if she has more of these, she can come over at seven in the morning.”
Will stared down at Owen so Julianne wouldn’t see the smile on his face.
“So you do have fond memories of growing up in this town.”
He did have some, but they were mostly of the few people in Chances Inlet who’d accepted him unconditionally, like the McAlister family and his friend Chase Jordan’s family. They were often his refuge from his world at the Seaside Vista Trailer Park. Unfortunately, the Jordans had only been summer and weekend residents, the rest of the time living in Charlotte. Still, neither family treated Will as some charity case like the rest of the town did. He was often the special project of the town’s do-gooders, and he hated that he couldn’t do without their largesse because he and his mother needed it to survive.
“We don’t have to stay here. If it bothers you too much to live near the ocean, we can go someplace else. I just need to be within an hour’s flight to Baltimore for mini-camps, but we could work something out.”
Julianne had pulled her feet up, her chin tucked to her knees and the blanket wrapped securely around her. She turned toward the sound of the ocean ebbing against the dock. “No,” she finally said, her eyes meeting his. “You have something you need to prove here, misguided as I may think it is. And this is your hometown, so it’ll be Owen’s, too. He’ll grow up here at least part of the year with you. And with your mom. I need to get a grip on my emotions and stop letting them rule my life. Besides, it’s only temporary. For me at least.”
Will had to admire Julianne’s determination. It seemed there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Owen: live by an ocean that constantly brought on panic attacks, put her career on hold, or marry a man she didn’t love. He was relieved that she seemed resigned to the fact that Owen would live with each of them separately and that they’d make it work. For his part, Will would make concessions, too—keeping his raging libido in check, for a start. Like she said, their situation was only temporary.
• • •
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” Annabeth called to the mother and daughter who’d just purchased matching batik scarves. The door chimes jangled as they left the store. She recorded the sale on her iPad, making sure to include Janel’s commission. Annabeth sold the scarves to tourists for her friend who operated a mission on the island of St. Martin. Women and children at the mission made the scarves, dresses, and bracelets, carefully dyeing the fabric themselves. The money raised helped to fund education initiatives for the children.
Annabeth loved that she could use her grandmother’s shop to help other women in need. Her son clearly didn’t understand the situation at all. Will insisted she no longer work. He wanted her to travel or run some charity for him. Or go to college. Annabeth had no intention of doing any of those things. She was happy in Chances Inlet, a town where she knew who she was, what she was. Will wanted her to be someone else. Someone he could be proud of. Annabeth sighed. She’d raised a smart, successful son. Why couldn’t that be enough? Her cell phone rang, interrupting the downward spiral of her thoughts.
“Annabeth Connelly,” she answered.
“Ah, Miz Connelly. Mystery solved.”
It took her only a second to identify the voice as belonging to Hank Osbourne. It had been a week since their encounter at Will and Julianne’s wedding. His parting words still played out in her head nightly, though.
“And what mystery might that be, Mr. Osbourne?”
“Hank.”
Hank. She liked that his name was ordinary, not complicated, unsophisticated. Unfortunately, Hank Osbourne the man was none of those things. Eventually, he’d find out that she was.
“Hank,” she breathed. “What mystery can I solve for you?”
He was silent for a moment. “Well, Annabeth, that’s a loaded question. One I hope we can address in the near future.” His challenge was issued in a seductive purr, one that caused her to visibly tremble. Thankfully, there weren’t any customers in the store to notice.
Hank cleared his throat. “Today’s mystery involves Sophie and her texting. Elizabeth noticed she’d been texting this number a lot and, as usual, rather than confront Sophie about it, she has me deal with it.”
“Elizabeth?”
Hank sighed. “Sophie’s mother. My ex-wife.”
“Ahh. She likes to make you the bad guy?”
“Not always, no. She and Sophie are going through a bit of a phase where she doesn’t want to intrude too much in Sophie’s privacy. It keeps the peace in their household.”
“But at what cost to your relationship with Sophie?” It was really none of Annabeth’s business, but she liked Sophie. She also didn’t want to admit that she hated that Hank’s ex-wife used him in such a way.
Hank chuckled. “Don’t worry. I get my turn at good cop enough. So, do you mind telling me why she’s texting you so often? You aren’t by chance a physicist, are you?”
It was Annabeth’s turn to laugh. “Not a chance. I admire her for even attempting the class.” She fingered the earrings dangling on the display by the register. “She’s been sending me photos of her jewelry. And I’ve been sending her texts of encouragement.”
The phone got so quiet, she thought he’d hung up on her until finally he spoke, his voice husky. “You are a very kind woman, Annabeth Connelly.”
She pulled the phone away so she could clear her throat. “Well, it isn’t easy finding reliable help these days. I need her to succeed.”
“I do, too.” He covered the phone so he could speak with someone else.
“Well,” she said. “If that’s all you need . . .”
“No! Don’t hang up! I’m sorry. Despite it being the off-season, things are a little crazy around here. How are things down there? With the newlyweds? They haven’t killed one another yet, have they? I’d hate to have to go out and find another All-Pro linebacker with training camp only a couple of months away.”
Annabeth smiled. “They’re both still alive. Just sleep deprived. They’re finding out it’s a lot harder taking care of a newborn without the help of a medical staff.”
“And the baby, he’s better, right?”
“Oh, yes. My grandson is perfect.”
Hank was quiet on the phone again as Annabeth realized her mistake.
“I forgot about that,” he finally said. “You’re Owen’s grandmother.”
Yes, she wanted to scream, I’m a grandmother! I’m also an undereducated, socially inept woman who you’d eventually find lacking after sleeping with me. It was better Hank find out now, before she succumbed to his flirting and eventually ended up where she always did with men: with her heart broken.
“He’s a lucky kid.”
She didn’t like the predatory way that sounded, and suddenly she was wishing poor Sophie didn’t raise her physics grade just so she didn’t have to see Hank Osbourne again. It made her feel awful.
“I should be going. I’ve got customers,” she lied.
“Oh, sure. Just one more thing. Will’s doing okay with all this scrutiny of his former college coach, isn’t he? Things are starting to get a little ugly. Names are going to come out. I just need Will to keep us informed if any issues arise so the front office can keep ahead of it.”
Annabeth paused in restacking the scarves. She was grateful Will had been given the opportunity to get into Yale and play on their football team. It had been his escape from Chances Inlet, a town Will hated. Coach Zevalos had literally provided her son a one-way ticket out. But the man wasn’t a saint. He’d been just like all the other men who’d paraded through town, assuming Annabeth would be grateful enough to do whatever he asked.
“That’s something you should speak with Will about. Please tell Sophie I said hello. Good-bye, Mr. Osbourne.” She hung up before she heard his response.