“Right!” Mam said, the steel apparent in her voice again. “There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to get my arse to Nebraska and get this sorted; though at my age, I shouldn’t be driving all over the country bailing my boys out.”
My chest twisted. “You don’t have to come, Ma. Everything’s in hand. I can deal with it.”
“Well,”Ma snapped. “This is just typical of you, isn’t it? Not only have you had a child out of wedlock, but now you’re telling me that I can’t even meet my own granddaughter, who’s called Imogen! I swear to God, Donovan O’Shea, I don’t know where I went wrong with you. How could you treat your own mother like that, and after everything I’ve done for you too?”
“It’s a five-hour drive, Ma,” I protested.
“Well, I’d better get a move on then, hadn’t I?” she stated. “Waiting around here won’t get the baby bathed.”
Callum sat up and swung his feet off the bed. “You’re not coming tonight, Ma. It’s nine o’clock already; you won’t get here until at least two. Go get a few hours’ sleep and leave early in the morning. We’re not due at Family Services to get the paternity test results until midday, so you’ll get here in plenty of time to come with us. If you drive over tonight, we’ll just worry, and chances are, I’ll end up driving out to meet you, which wouldn’t be good because I hardly slept last night, and I’m exhausted. Plus, after the wedding yesterday and everything that’s gone on today, we’re all drained.”
“He’s right, Maureen,” Maeve added. “There’s nothing we can do tonight. We all need to get some rest so we’re fresh tomorrow when we meet baby Imogen.”
“Imogen,” Ma repeated, almost wondrously. “It’s a good Irish name.”
“It’s wonderful,” Maeve murmured, her eyes meeting mine. “She’swonderful.”
My heart dipped low in my chest, and I brought a hand up to rub at the new sensations ravaging me.
Usually, I felt empty, but spending time with Rosie and her kids had gone a long way toward plugging the hole that had beenthere for as long as I could remember. And now, hearing Maeve speak about my kid that way filled me to the brim.
It was crazy how something I never even knew I needed could make me feel so complete.
CHAPTER 8
ROSIE
After the disastrous shit show of the night before, I spent most of Sunday morning with the kids and Tristan.
My friend had stayed over so we could sit up late and put the world to rights, which consisted mainly of us bitching about men, namely Donovan O’Shea, and Cruise, the biker that Tris had been seeing from the Kings of Anarchy MC.
There must have been something in the water because getting screwed around by asshole men wasn’t exclusive to me and my situation. From what Tristan told me, it seemed to be a trend among the men of Southern Wyoming, so at least I was in good company.
Once I talked it through, I felt better. It wasn’t that I was hurt—though admittedly it stung—it was the humiliation. For Donovan to force me into such a vulnerable position in front of my kids was unforgivable, especially when all he needed to do was pick up the phone and cancel. I would have been disappointed, but it was better than subjecting me to the bone-deep embarrassment and disrespect that my kids had to witness.
Asshole.
Anyhoo, onward and upward.
After I made brunch for everyone, DJ went off to the clubhouse to do some work for my brother, and Gabby arranged to meet Kady and Sunny at the coffee shop.
I decided to go to the Speed Demons’ clubhouse and ask Atlas about the bookkeeping work we discussed. I needed to start bringing money in, mainly because my son ate through my pantry like he hadn’t been fed in years, and eggs weren’t cheap.
I made up my face first, and threw on a light grey off-the-shoulder, slouchy sweater that hit me mid-thigh, slouchy knee-high boots, and a baseball cap. Then I made my way downstairs to get my bag together.
Tristan looked up from his cell as I strutted into the kitchen and gave me a low whistle. “Anyone else would look like a bag lady in that outfit, but, girl, you style it out.”
I blew him a kiss.
“Who the fuck wears a sweater three sizes too big as a dress?” he muttered.
I laughed softly. “That would be me.”
“Seriously,” he continued. “You look fucking hot.”
“Well, thank you.” I grinned. “I aim to please.”
“Hope you run into Donovan ‘The Invisible Man’ O’Shea,” he muttered. “The no-show asshole would kick his own ass if he saw you right now.”
