“We won’t overstep,” Margaret interrupted with a sharp look at her husband, who was instantly chagrined. “But we’d like to check in, make sure you’re both well and happy, maybe Gabbi might like to know her grandparents. If that is okay?”
“Of course.”
“We’ll come back when you’re ready. And we’ll keep in touch if you’ll let us.”
Morgan inclined his head. “Yes. I think… that would be good.”
They didn’t linger. Coats gathered, quiet goodbyes said. At the door, Margaret paused once more, turning back.
“She’s loved,” she said.
“She is,” Morgan replied.
“And we’d like to get to know you as well, Morgan.”
“I’d like that.”
And then they were gone, the door closing behind them.
Morgan sagged a little as the quiet rushed back in. I stepped in without asking and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into me, just for a second, forehead pressing to my collarbone. Gabbi chose that moment to fuss—a little protest, followed by a wriggle that meant only one thing.
Morgan huffed out a breath that was half laugh, half relief. “Okay,” he murmured. “Yep. That’s a feed. And probably a diaper change.”
Back to normal.
“Boyfriends, eh?” I asked lightly.
He wrinkled his nose, then smiled, shy and honest. “It sounded right.”
I kissed him, quick and sure, even as Gabbi complained louder between us.
Yeah. It sounded perfect.
THIRTEEN
Morgan
The quiet inmy head had crept up on me.
It had been weeks since we’d arrived at Guardian Hall. Long enough that my body had stopped bracing for impact every time someone said my name. Long enough that Gabbi slept in decent stretches and smiled when she saw me, as if she expected me to always be there.
Then there was Cole.
My boyfriend.
And the cautious and gentle way he was dating me, taking Gabbi and me to places that were good forher.
Which was kind. Thoughtful. And maybe?—
The thought turned sour.
Maybe he wasn’t really datingmeat all.
Maybe he was dating a ready-made family.
The idea made no fucking sense in my rational mind, but it hit hard and ugly, and I hated myself for it. It sounded selfish. Wrong. As if loving my daughter somehow disqualified me from wanting anything else. I loved that he loved her. I wanted her on dates. I needed her there. And still my head wouldn’t let it go.
Because, despite falling for Cole, all I could really see when I looked at him was this rich, successful man. This kind, steady man who moved through the world as if it wasn’t constantly trying to knock him flat. And then there was me. No job. No plan. Trauma stitched into my bones.
