“Is that what you named her?” The girl asks.
I hold out my hand, feeling compassion for the girl standing in front of me. I don’t know what led her here, why she chose Micah or how she left little Abby behind. But I know she’s my daughter’s mother. She’s given me the most precious gift in all the world, and I’ll always be grateful to her for that. “Yes, and I’m Chloe.”
She doesn’t take my hand, but she does lift her chin. “Sydney.”
I give her a smile that I hope is welcoming. “Well, come on in out of the cold and see your daughter. Then we’ll have breakfast if you want it.”
I still don’t know why she’s here. But given her hesitation, I don’t think she’s here for her daughter. At least, I don’t believe she’s here to take her back. If anything, she’s skittish and shy.
Sydney follows me to our bedroom where the crib is. Micah has a spare room that he’s been working to turn into a nursery. But he’s taking his time and I think it’s because he doesn’t want her sleeping away from us.
I move to the crib, gesturing for Sydney to come near.
Micah stands in the doorway with his arms crossed again. It’s not lost on me that he’s blocking the room’s exit. He studies her, his face an unreadable mask. This must feel like his worst nightmare.
“You’re sure she’s happy?” Sydney asks again, peering into the crib.
“She’s the sweetest thing,” I assure her. “She can lift her head up a little on her own. And she coos at us. I think I even saw her smile the other day. Would you like to hold her?”
She shakes her head. “Babies aren’t my thing.”
I lead her back into the living room, so we won’t disturb Abby and encourage her to take a seat. She perches on the edge of a loveseat, the one nearest the door. She looks like she could bolt at any moment.
I sit across from her on the couch. I gesture for Micah to join me, but he paces the room, agitated and frustrated.
Since he’s processing this, I turn to Sydney. “Abby is incredible, and I’m grateful to you. I’m grateful that she’s here.”
“I’m glad she landed with you two. Guess I did one thing right for her, huh? I mean, she’s cute and all. But I’m not...I wasn’t ready.”
“That’s OK,” I reassure her quickly. I don’t want her feeling guilt or shame. Not everyone is suited to be a mother, and I don’t care how Abby came into my life. I only care that she’s a part of it now. “We love her.”
Abby lets out a wail, and I glance at Micah. He still looks distraught, so I say, “I’ll settle her with a bottle. You talk with Sydney.”
* * *
Micah
I stare downat the teenage girl. Fuck, she’s young. Too young for a baby. She looks like she should be graduating high school and packing a beat-up car with furniture for college. Not wandering around homeless and gaunt.
She fiddles with her backpack and a loose string on her pants, anything really. That’s when her nervous habits finally jolt my memory.
“Nashville. I was on business for the ranch. Gave you a ride.” I don’t usually give out rides but something about her made me want to stop. She ran her hand up my thigh as soon as she was in the truck. I made it damn clear we weren’t doing anything like that. But I offered her dinner, and we ended up at an all-night diner. We sat for hours, shooting the breeze and talking about nothing important.
She tips her head, studying me. “You do remember me. I didn’t expect you to.”
Now that I’ve placed her, everything about that evening comes flooding back. “That was what...eight months ago?”
“Six,” she says softly. “I was three and a half months along. I saw you outside of your hotel that night. I thought what if my baby had a dad, someone who cared about her?”
“So, you thought if you came onto me, and we slept together that you could come back later and claim she’s mine. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” There’s no accusation in my tone, only curiosity.
She hesitates.
“Tell me.” I want to hear all of her story. One day, Abby will have questions about her birth mom, and I’ll tell her everything. I’ll tell her the story of a woman who loved her enough to try and give her a better life.
“I was planning on waiting a year, just long enough for everything to be fuzzy for you. Look, I’m not proud of it, OK? I don’t even know her daddy’s name. He was just fifty bucks behind the gas station.”
I swear under my breath and for a moment, I see it. She’s Cassie as a teenager. If I hadn’t been there to fend off the men back then, she would have had no one. No protector. No shield. No big brother. My heart aches at the thought. “Where are you staying now?”