Maybe not in that order.
It was quiet up here, bathed in late-morning sunshine. But he heard the soft hum of a woman, murmuring sweetly, high-pitched and babyish. That was Kate, he knew. And Atlas was undoubtedly in her arms.
He stopped for the coffee, which was miraculously brewed and warmed already. How did they run this house with military precision and heavenly peace, satisfying the needs of what felt like dozens of occupants ranging in age from a month to nearly eighty?
Jonah had no idea—maybe it was his dad, maybe it was Aunt Vivien, maybe the strong hand of Grandma Maggie, or maybe it was…her.
He stood at the open sliding glass doors and looked out at the brand-new rattan rocker that Aunt Vivien had purchased for the sole purpose of “Atlas feedings.” Whoever was on duty gotto sit on the second-story deck, looking out at the horizon and turquoise water, enjoying the salt-infused air of Destin.
Kate was out there alone—not counting a blissfully quiet Atlas in her arms—an empty baby bottle on the table next to her. Atlas was conked against her chest, his teddy bear blanket spilling onto Kate’s lap.
Her eyes were closed, too, her head back, her glasses…somewhere. On the table, probably. She hummed a soft, sweet tune that would put anyone to sleep—even Atlas, who decided sometime around four A.M. that he was never sleeping again.
Kate had conquered him.
But then, Kate won a lot of battles, Jonah thought with a smile. She quietly fought them with logic and love, and conquered whatever was in the way.
This past spring, Jonah had been a mess, and Kate—a stranger to him, but not his father and aunts—blew into his life and somehow achieved the impossible.
She’d stepped into the role of mother for him and his whole life changed. She’d seen something in him. Encouraged him. Fussed over him. Let him cry. Essentially treated him like they were all treating Atlas.
And somehow, without even trying, she’d started to fill a space in him that had been empty since his mother died when he was fifteen.
Could Kate ever know how grateful he was?
“Oh, hello.” She opened her eyes and whispered the greeting. “I didn’t know you were here, Jonah.”
“I didn’t want to wake him,” he said, just as softly.
“Nothing will wake him.” She patted Atlas’s back. “He’s conked.”
“Thank you.” He walked out and settled on the sofa near her, putting his coffee on the table.
“It was my pleasure,” she assured him. “I had to kick all other takers to the curb to get my time. The great-grandmothers went back to their apartment arguing about something quite secretively. Your father had to take a work call, but he’s in the back office. Tessa and Lacey went to see a client, and I don’t know where Vivien is, but I assume she’s working, too. Anyway, no need to thank me. The line to love Atlas is long.”
He took a sip of coffee as she chattered about all the help. That wasn’t what he wanted to thank her for, but he hadn’t had enough caffeine to get mushy yet.
“Have you eaten?” she asked after a beat.
He shook his head. “I’m on the all-coffee diet. It’s working wonders.”
Kate gave him a dubious look. “There’s leftover quiche in the fridge. I can?—”
“I’ll eat, Kate. I promise.” He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. “It’s just…a lot. I feel like I’m failing at everything except changing diapers.”
“You’re not,” she said simply.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” She shifted Atlas very gently to the other shoulder, earning a tiny whimper and angelic sigh as he nestled closer into her neck and chest.
Kate gave a soft laugh, the breath fluttering the dark bangs that fringed her eyes. “He’s too perfect!” she mouthed, rubbing his tiny back.
“I don’t deserve him,” Jonah whispered.
“Yes, you do. And please don’t say you’re a failure. You’re not even in the zip code. You’re showing up. You’re loving him. That’s ninety percent of it right there.”
He looked at the baby. His son. His everything. “You’re good with him.”
