“Don’t you and Thor usually drive together?”
“His name is Viggo and yes, but…he was at work and had to drive from Rutland.” I slid a cup of coffee toward him and cradled mine for warmth. It was still fucking freezing in my house. “I was going to stay with Freya last night, but I came home instead.”
“Hmm.”
We sipped coffee leisurely as if neither of us had a million other things we should have been doing midmorning on a weekday.
“Is Gretchen going to dance this afternoon?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah. I meant to tell you she wouldn’t be coming by for her donut lesson, but that was before the whole town got up in arms, ready to call a search party for your ass,” he snarked.
I rolled my eyes. “This town…”
Reg quirked a smile. “I warned you about small-town living when you first rolled into Wood Hollow, but you’ve been here a while now, so I don’t think you mind so much.”
“No, I don’t. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?”
Reg choked on his coffee. “Married? Whoa, Nelly. I dunno. I’m not seeing anyone and I don’t know if?—”
“I meant…do you think it’s possible to have kids and raise them with someone who didn’t initially sign up for parenting? And yeah…I know the answer is theoretically yes, but—” I shoved a hand through my hair, aware that it had to be standing on end, and barreled on. “What about doing everything out of order? Is that bad for the child? Kids come first. That’s the rule. You said so yourself and?—”
“Hang on, hang on.” Reg set his cup down and wrinkled his brow. “I know this isn’t about you and me, but I think I should clear the air and tell you that I just wasn’t ready to commit to a relationship or?—”
“No, no, no. It’s not us. Yeah…I got hurt, and that sucked, but I’m more than fine. In fact, I’m glad we didn’t work out, ’cause I met someone who’s…”
“What?” he prodded.
“He’s pretty fucking special,” I croaked. “And I’m so nervous about getting this all wrong. Being a dad, being in a relationship. I’ve never done the first, and I’m terrible at the second. I had the worst role models—an absent father, a controlling mother, and I’m still working through the aftershocks of a monster concussion. Maybe my mom was right. Just because I haven’t had a seizure in over eight years doesn’t mean I’ll never have another one. Should I be doing any of this? I feel like I’m destined to fail right out of the gate, and I’m fucking paralyzed with fear.”
Reg’s lopsided smile was warm and indulgent. “Welcome to the club, Dex. No one knows what they’re doing.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“I’m serious. We’re all winging it. There are more pitfalls and wrong turns ahead, but the good news is…you’re in it together—you and your kids…and your partner. You learn, you trust, and you have faith that you can build something better for the next generation. Man, I wake up scared every day. I want to protect my kids from the world…and maybe protect myself, but you gotta live, too. That’s what it’s all about, right?”
I nodded, pursing my lips in a valiant effort to keep my emotions in check. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“So to answer your question…yes, I think if you’ve got love and that extra secret sauce that makes a relationship work, you’re miles ahead of the crowd. Any kid would be lucky to grow up in your house. Your home. There’s a lot of love here. You can feel it. You just have to trust it.”
I grinned through a sheen of tears. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, get your ass to work so the damn town will quit worryin’ about you.”
“Yes, sir, Officer.” I saluted Reg, chuckling at his faux grumble.
I showered, shaved, dressed for work in my pink tee and jeans uniform, then checked in with Freya. All was well. The swelling had gone down, no headache, no pain in her belly, and Alice was there making her breakfast. I absently wondered if Alice and she were more than friends. I liked the idea.
My next stop was Dexter’s Donuts.
Janey gasped as I walked in the door and raced around the counter to fling herself at me. And punch my chest. “You asshole! Sorry, Mrs. Galbraith,” she mumbled to the older woman perusing the morning’s selections with her usual critical gaze.
“No need to apologize. We’ve been worried sick about you and the baby, Dexter,” Mrs. G admonished, peering over her glasses. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Freya is doing well and according to the doctor, the baby still has a couple of weeks in the oven,” I reported.
