“Oh, Paul.” She looked at the muscle jumping in his cheek, and her heart ached for him. The man was well and truly haunted.
She wanted to be the person to comfort him. She wanted to make him forget his pain. He’d probably saved lives, many of them, but it was the one he couldn’t save that kept coming back to him, of course. She stood and slipped around the table to sit beside him, leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his brawnier one.
They sat there like that as the pines moved in the wind outside the windows, as Sarge panted and flopped down, as the sound of music from the playlist on her phone pressed on, quietly, the hip-hop she’d been listening to.
Finally, he stirred and flexed his arm, and she lifted her face and glanced up to find him looking at her. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”
She nodded. “Life stinks sometimes.”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers, and the mood between them shifted from sympathy to something warmer. He reached out a hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
She closed her eyes. It felt so good to be touched in that gentle way.
His hand stayed, cupping her cheek, and she sucked in a breath. He was going to kiss her, which was all kinds of wrong, but she didn’t think she could turn away.
His phone buzzed, and the disappointment on his face was gratifying. “I’ve got to get that, in case it’s about Davey.”
“Sure. Do it.” She pulled back and sucked in a big breath, trying to slow down the pounding of her heart.
He picked up his phone and looked, then took the call. The school, he mouthed to her.
He listened, his face getting stormier. “No, they’re not authorized to pick him up. Right. I’m the only one.”
He listened more. “Let me talk to them,” he said.
A moment later, he said: “Ferguson. Why are you at the school? We don’t have an agreement for you to see Davey today.”
He listened, propping his forehead on his hand, staring down at the floor. “Davey needs to be in a routine, and he needs to be with me. We’ve discussed this.”
He listened again. “No, I’m not giving verbal or any other kind of agreement. You need to check with me before seeing him.”
Amber could hear sort of shrill voices in the background. Then Paul looked at the phone, turned it over. “They hung up.”
“Davey’s grandparents?” she asked gently.
He nodded. “They’ve got some notion they can barge in on his life and his routines whenever they want to. Even that they should have some custody rights. And it’s not happening.”
“That was sneaky, showing up at the school.”
He nodded, his face grim. “I’m worried about what they might do.”
“Understandable.”
Paul made a call to the school director and explained the situation. He listened for a few minutes and then ended the call. “Davey’s safe and occupied, and his grandparents left. She doesn’t think I should come in and bring him home.”
“That’s probably smart,” Amber said. “Kids need routines.”
“They do.” And as they got back to work, now with no trace of romance in the air between them, Amber focused on one thought: Davey had to stay with Paul, not his grandparents. Which meant she couldn’t upset the applecart by revealing the truth about Davey’s conception. And that was a roadblock for any thought of romance between them.
WEDNESDAY EVENING AS sunset turned the sky purple and pink and gold, Mary stood outside the lobby of the Chesapeake Motor Lodge, talking to Ria Martin, the motel’s owner. She’d known Ria for years, ever since she’d first moved to Pleasant Shores, because Ria was her employee Julie’s daughter. She’d become a good friend.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Mary said to Ria. “But you have to enforce the rules with her.”
“I’m good at that, I have teenagers,” Ria said, her voice wry. “Don’t worry, Mary. Your stepdaughter is welcome here.”
“Thank you.” Imogene, it turned out, had been sleeping on the beach and living out of her car, and she’d gotten a warning from the Pleasant Shores Police Department. So Mary had offered to meet her at Ria’s motel and get her a room for the week.
If Mary were a better person, she’d have offered Imogene her guest room. But the thought of facing her stepdaughter every single day gave her hives.
“I can’t believe it’s December.” Ria lifted her face to the gentle breeze. “Today’s been sweater weather. It can stay like this as far as I’m concerned.”
“Me, too.” But Mary loved the changing seasons of the Chesapeake, its unpredictable weather, so different from LA.
They heard Imogene’s car before they saw it spewing dark fumes as it sputtered to a stop in front of them. “This is it?” Imogene asked as she climbed out and looked at the motel, her lip curling just a little. “It’s kind of...old.”
Older than your car? Mary wanted to say it, but didn’t.
After all, Imogene wasn’t wrong. The motel had been a part of the community for more than fifty years, and hadn’t ever had a decor update that Mary had heard about.
“Around here, we call it retro,” Mary said. “Imogene, I’d like for you to meet Ria Martin. She’s the owner and manager, and she’s found a room for you to stay in for the week.”
Imogene raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, but Ria smiled and held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Imogene. The Lodge is a pretty humble place, but we keep it clean and everyone is friendly. And anyone who’s a friend of Mary’s is a friend of mine.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Imogene muttered as she shook Ria’s hand. Even she, apparently, couldn’t withstand Ria’s friendliness.
Ria winked at Mary. “Come on,” she
