Molly dabbed her favorite perfume on her wrist and behind her ears and she was ready. Any second now, Zeke would ring the doorbell and the night she’d been dreaming of since she was thirteen was finally going to happen.
Her parents were babysitting Lucy. She’d told her Mom all about falling for Zeke and how tonight was a first step toward things maybe working out between them, and Abby had insisted on watching Lucy overnight. Molly was not to even think about picking her up till at least noon. She’d given Molly a sly smile and a big hug before leaving with Lucy right before Molly started getting dressed for the big event.
The doorbell rang.
When she opened it, Zeke gasped.
She laughed. “I clean up well, huh?”
“You sure do. You look absolutely stunning. You always do, Molly. But tonight—whoa.”
“You look amazing yourself.” And he did. He wore dark pants and a charcoal button-down shirt with a jacket, his wool overcoat.
“I’ve made reservations for 7:15 at Arabella’s in Prairie City. You once mentioned you’ve always wanted to go there.”
Only the most romantic restaurant in Converse County. There was even a gazebo-like dance floor adjacent to the dining room.
He helped her into her snazzy black wool coat—thank you, Danica—and out they went. On the way to the restaurant, Zeke put music on low and they started chatting easily like old times about everything and anything—their favorite bands, TV shows, what was binge-worthy and all the restaurants they’d been to in the area. Zeke hadn’t been to many in the short time he’d been back.
“Well, if we have a second date, we can go to Margarita’s Mexican Café,” Molly said. “The food is so good.” She tilted her head. “Oh,” she added. “That’s where your parents met. I’m not sure if it has good or bad associations for you.”
There would be a second date. There had to be. And a third. And a millionth.
“It’s a sweet story,” he said. “Their marriage might not have lasted, but that’s my history in Margarita’s.”
“I guess I shouldn’t remind you of our history in margaritas,” she said with a slight smile. “The drink.”
“I like to be reminded of that night, Molly,” he said very seriously. “I’m not proud of how I reacted the morning after, but I’ll never forget that night. It was very special to me.”
She was so surprised she couldn’t speak for a second. “Me, too,” was all she could manage.
“You know what I did this past Saturday?” he asked. “I did something that knocked some sense into me.”
The Teen Rancher’s Summit. He’d mentioned his brother Noah had asked him to give a talk and that he was looking forward to it. “The talk to the at-risk teenagers?” she said as though she didn’t have even his non‒work schedule committed to memory.
He nodded. “It went very well. And afterward, I was talking to a kid named Jeremy, sixteen years old, who couldn’t seem to see beyond his everyday world, and the advice I gave him was that he decides his path, no one else. His future is up to him.”
“That’s beautiful and powerful advice.” Please apply it to yourself. Please.
His smile was so warm that she wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand. “And between that talk with Jeremy and you about to quit my life, I got to thinking that I should mean what I say. I’ve got to let go of the past, how I was raised, the bad memories. I can’t be controlled by what my father did or didn’t do. And it’s possible I’ve been using all that as an excuse to avoid commitment. I’m thirty-one and the longest relationship I’ve had is six months.”
Hope soared in her chest. “So we have a real chance. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” He slid his hand over to hers and she clasped it, her heart pulsating.
By the time he pulled into a parking spot at Arabella’s, Molly was afraid if she pinched her arm she’d wake up in her bedroom, alone, that this was all a beautiful dream.
“Is it the dress? The lip gloss?” she quipped out of sheer nerves. Was this really happening?
He turned off the ignition and took both of her hands. “No, Molly. It’s you.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, pulling away just to look into his eyes. She wanted to say I love you but she didn’t want to scare the man out into the hills. But she did love him, so much she could burst with it.
Inside the restaurant, dimly lit with oil paintings lining the pale yellow walls, they decided not to drink at all so that anything that happened between them happened because they wanted it to, not because the wine loosened their inhibitions. Molly ordered an interesting-looking pasta dish that she’d never heard of but sounded delicious, and Zeke went with the New York strip. Over dinner, they talked about their families and grandparents and places they’d been and places they wanted to go. Turned out they both wanted to visit Iceland and see the glaciers and volcanoes.
We’ll go on our honeymoon, she thought giddily.
The dance floor was through an archway, and she could see a few couples slow dancing to an Ella Fitzgerald song. Once their entrees were cleared away and they both decided against dessert, he asked her to dance and led her to the cozy space, wrapping his arms around her waist. She put hers around his neck and they swayed to Frank Sinatra’s “It Had to Be You.”
“I can hardly believe this is really happening,” she whispered. “The date, the talk in the car, this dance.”
His lips moved close to her ear. “I guess this is our song.”
I love you, I love you, I love you, she thought. “I’d say this proper first date is going very well.”
He held her even closer. “Very well.”
They danced to another song, and suddenly all she wanted was to be alone with him.
“My place?” she whispered.
He smiled and took her hand, leading her back to their table. As they were leaving, her phone pinged with a text.
Her mother. Uh-oh.
Honey, everything’s okay but Lucy is feverish and screaming her head off. I’m sorry to ruin your date but I think she needs her mama.
Molly read the text to Zeke. “Motherhood calls.” She looked at him, hard, studying his expression. Maybe this would undo tonight—the reminder that she came with a child and responsibilities that would usurp everything and anything, including and particularly a dream date.
He held her hand. “Tell you what. Why don’t we go pick up Lucy from your parents and I’ll stay to help. I’m the baby whisperer of Bear Ridge, remember?”
“You sure? You can take a rain check.” He was really all in, she thought, goose bumps on her arms.
“Oh, I want that rain check,” he said. “But yes, I’m sure.”
She texted her mother back that they’d be at their house to get Lucy in about a half hour and to give Lucy baby Tylenol.
“Well, I guess if we’re going to date,” she said as they headed for his car, “this is the kind of thing that’ll happen. Sick baby. Sitter cancels last minute. My ex has an emergency and can’t take Lucy on his scheduled weekend.”
He was quiet for a moment. “This is your life. And I want to be a part of that life.”
She reached a hand to his gorgeous cheek. “This date is still going very, very well.”
He smiled and they drove off. Molly texted her mom to ask if Lucy was still crying, and the answer was yes. Poor baby. As much as she loved Zeke, she was itching to get to her baby and hold her, comfort her, take care of her.
As they pulled into her parents’ driveway, Molly could hear Lucy crying the moment she opened the car door. The baby was wailing.
“Oh, boy. Cover your ears, Zeke.”
“I’m used to it. I was at Noah and Sara’s this past weekend, and both twins were shrieking their heads off. I could only get one to quiet down, though.”
The door opened, and Molly’s dad stood in the doorway, rocking a crying Lucy. The difference in temperature outside got Lucy’s attention and she stopped crying—then saw her mother and held out her arms. Molly and Zeke hurried into the house, Molly taking Lucy and cuddling her.
“The Tylenol seems to be working,” her dad said. “She’s not as hot.”
Molly touched her hand to Lucy’s forehead. Warm but not feverish. That was a relief.
“Ah, the sound of silence,” Tim said. “I can hear myself think.” He turned to Zeke and extended his hand. “Nice to see you, Zeke.”
Zeke shook her dad’s hand. “As always.”
Molly’s mom came to the foyer, wrapping her cardigan sweater tight around her. “Oh, Molly, you look so lovely! Did you have a nice time?”
“It was wonderful and thank you. I got the text just as we were leaving so it was good timing.”
Abby Orton smiled. “Oh, glad to hear. I held out for as long as I could but I could see she wouldn’t calm down until she was in your arms.” She turned to Zeke. “Is Arabella’s as romantic as I’ve heard? I’m thinking that we’ll go for our thirty-fourth anniversary.”
“It is,” Zeke said. “They have a dance floor in a beautiful little gazebo-like area next to the dining room.”
Lucy started to fuss, so Molly shifted the baby in her arms. “Well, we’ll get going.”
“I’ll follow you home,” Tim said. “In case you need backup.”
“That’s my job tonight,” Zeke said. “Moral support, making coffee, slicing pie.”
Molly saw the look that passed between her parents. A very pleased look.
“That’s very kind of you, Zeke,” her mom said. “Well, honey, call us if you need us. But looks like you’ve got everything covered.”
Zeke borrowed a car seat from Molly’s dad, and in a few minutes they were at Molly’s house, Lucy fast asleep.
“I’ll transfer her to the crib,” Molly said once they were inside. “Why don’t you see what looks good for dessert in the fridge. Want to pick a movie or TV show? Something not too engrossing just in case Lucy wakes up.”
“I’m on it,” he said.
She took Lucy to the nursery, her sleeping daughter’s forehead feeling back to normal.
And Zeke Dawson was on her sofa. Waiting for her.
The night might have had a little detour, but he was still here.
“I’m scared to jinx myself,” she whispered to Lucy as she set her precious girl in her crib and gently caressed her cheek. “But I think we’re over the hump with Zeke.”
Anticipation swirling, she headed back downstairs.
She was in Zeke’s arms within two minutes, the pie and the TV forgotten.
A cry woke Zeke and he glanced at the alarm clock on Molly’s side of the bed: 2:14 a.m. Molly stirred and turned, fast asleep, her beautiful brown curls everywhere. He gently caressed her hair and got out of bed, pulling on his pants, then headed to the nursery. Another cry sounded.
“On my way, Lucy,” he whispered.
She stood in her crib, holding on to the railing and then lifting her arms.
And he froze. Just for a second, but a hesitation gripped him.
She stared up at him with her big brown eyes, so like her mother’s. He picked her up and she immediately grabbed his ear, but instead of it making him laugh like it usually did, he felt a strange zap in his chest as a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.
What was going on with him? This was Lucy. Adorable, sweet Lucy. And he was the baby whisperer of Bear Ridge.
This is what life will be like, he thought. I’ll be responsible for this baby—not like a doting, visiting uncle, but as a father figure. Everything I do will matter in her life, affect her.
The cold sweat on his neck turned into pinpricks. Why was he reacting like this? He’d gone through this—he knew who he was. Of course he’d be a good father figure to Lucy.
But will you? How do you know? Your work will get in the way and take your time and energy and you won’t rush into the nursery to see why Lucy is crying. You’ll ignore her, hope she soothes herself back to sleep. Or you’ll just let Molly deal.
And then you and Molly will argue.
You used to help and now you don’t, she’d say, her beautiful face angry. You’ve changed.
Have I? Or was I always this way, he’d counter.
He sat down on the rocking chair, Lucy against his chest, but instead of cherishing the sweet weight of her, the baby-shampoo scent of her, he just felt...wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
He thought he could do this, that he could overcome his past, blaze his own path, but he’d always known he was really meant to be on his own, a lone wolf.
He stared out the window at the evergreens and bare trees in the moonlight. When it seemed safe to put Lucy back in her crib without her waking, he did.
And then he went back to Molly’s bedroom. She looked so beautiful, lying there sleeping.
You’re going to disappoint her eventually.
You’re Bo Dawson’s son.
He tried to lay back down but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He wrote a note.
Molly, I’m very sorry. But I need to go. —Z
He got dressed and tiptoed out of the room. He was halfway toward the door when a light turned on behind him. He turned around to find Molly in a bathrobe, holding the note, so many emotions on her face that he couldn’t pick out just one.
She shook her head. “For a solutions guy, you sure are focused on only the problem.”
“Maybe there is no solution here. Maybe I’m just really not meant to be a husband and father. I made that decision a long time ago and maybe it’s just too ingrained. I wanted to give this a try, Molly. But I guess—”
“Or maybe you could decide that you love me and Lucy and let that call the shots instead,” she interrupted. “If you do love us.”
He looked at her, wishing the right words would come, but the cold sweat had moved into his stomach and into his throat.
She waited.
He said nothing.
“Just go,” she said, and turned and ran away.
I wish I could be different, he wanted to call after her.
But he left and then sat in his car until the cold turned his hands numb.