Two

TWO

I t was probably because he was retired military that being at the airport for a flight leaving at five thirty on a Tuesday morning did not concern my boss in the least. For me, that was stupid early, and it didn't help that I'd overpacked and was now steering a small rolling suitcase through the arrival terminal at the Bangor International Airport and carrying my garment bag and had my backpack slung over my right shoulder. I always wanted to pack like Brann used to, everything in a single carry-on, but I was fairly certain that came from being a Navy SEAL. They taught them how to Tetris all their stuff. I couldn't do it. Plus, I was not about to origami my Prada tuxedo to fit into a duffel. No, thank you. But still, I looked like I was in vacation mode, not bodyguard mode, and that was doing nothing for my overall mood. One wanted to look intimidating when they were the hired muscle. Though technically, I wasn't supposed to look scary, but instead like everyone else. Ready for a wonderful time at the resort looking out onto Penobscot Bay.

Of course, the train had gone off the rails already. Mr. Lennox had not been able to leave when he wanted from where he was shooting his new film, Emerald Dreams , in Turks and Caicos, and would now not arrive until late afternoon or the evening. Possibly, that would end up being fine, as I might still be stuck at the airport.

Alone at a wedding… I had nightmares that started this way.

After walking up and down outside the arrival gates, asking people where the shuttles for the Castine Harbor Inn should be and finding no shuttles at all, I finally called the resort and was told that their vans collected everyone at the departure gates instead of the arrival ones as there was more room there. The woman was sorry that the wrong information had been printed on the wedding itinerary, but the correct information had in fact been conveyed to the bride more than once.

"Really," she insisted. "She was told many, many times."

I chuckled. "Have people been yelling at you?"

"Oh," she said with a whimper. "You have no idea."

"No worries," I told her. "I'll see ya soon."

"And what was your name, sir?"

"Cooper Davis."

"Thank you, Mr. Davis."

I made my way to the departure gates, and there I saw a man holding up a sign that said: Phillips/Walder wedding. Moving toward the sign, I put on my scarf and trench coat, thinking it was better to risk being too hot in the shuttle than being cold. I hated having to do anything but sit once I was in tight spaces.

Crossing the terminal quickly, my thought was to join the others milling about, but I stopped halfway there when I saw him . Not the actor Ashford Lennox, but my ex, Damien Morrow, standing with a stunning, statuesque blonde woman. I felt a twinge in my gut, like I was getting the stomach flu or something, and had to get my bearings and take a breath.

What was he doing here? We never accidentally ran into one another in Chicago, but now, here, out of the blue, there he was? It was like the beginning of a terrible rom-com, except there was no chance of either romance or comedy where we were concerned. Our break had been quick and final, with soul-searching on my end and absolute icy disregard on his. I'd been a convenience for him, nothing more. And it wasn't like I was still thinking about it, just hard not to be reminded when faced with one's past.

Of course, because this was how things worked for me lately, he looked just as good as he had when I was leaving his condo for the last time—all blond, blue-eyed model perfection. It was what had drawn me in, as well as everyone else. His looks combined with his charm made him lethal in the art of seduction. When I was walking out, he assured me I was overreacting. I told him to go to hell, and he'd shrugged. It was the shrug that had nearly killed me, made me slump against the wall of the elevator on the way down. After a year together, my leaving was that insignificant to him. I was, without a doubt, a terrible judge of lover material. Friends I could pick, but that, clearly, was the extent of my power.

I really tried to make myself take a step forward but found I could not. I had the ridiculous urge to run. But then an ear-splitting scream hit me.

It wasn't a cry of pain or terror, but instead a full-fledged tantrum. I knew the sound because thus far, there were thirteen grandchildren in my family. Each of my sisters had kids, and I was the one they all called first if they needed backup. Since my sisters had helped mold me, now they counted on my patience, ingenuity, and ability to help. I'd learned many tricks over the years, and number one was how to work around a meltdown. The key was distraction.

Glancing around for the source of the howling, I saw a woman, maybe late-twenties, walking toward the area where I was, looking like a sherpa. She had a fully outfitted hiking backpack on—this was no baby bag I'd ever seen—and was pulling an enormous rolling suitcase with her right hand, while in her left, she had a baby in one of those removable car seats. Behind her, in the middle of the floor, sat a screaming toddler, whom the woman had just stopped for. The little girl in a parka, mittens, red pants, and blue boots had to be around two. Even with a red face, screeching, she still resembled a cherub, albeit a possessed one.

No one seemed to be running to catch up to them or offer assistance. In fact, everyone was giving the child a wide berth, as though she were radioactive.

I changed direction and walked by the mother and over to the toddler.

"Are you hungry?"

The little girl stopped crying, gulped loudly several times, took some deep breaths, rubbed both eyes hard, then nodded.

I turned to her mother. "I have cheese and peanut butter crackers in my bag that I was going to eat on the plane but didn't get around to it. Would you allow me to share them with your daughter? You can first inspect the unopened package, of course."

She put the baby down, then basically puddled to the floor of the terminal, put her head in her hands, and started to cry. Loudly.

I got the picture.

I turned my attention to the little girl. "I'm Cooper. Who are you?"

"Gemma."

"Excellent." I released the handle of my rolling suitcase and dug into my backpack. "Promise me you will eat them one at a time."

"I promise," she agreed, and crossed her heart for good measure.

Fishing out the package, I looked at her mother. "Mom," I said, raising my voice over her sobbing. "Gemma's not allergic to peanuts, is she? Because I'm about to give her a snack that is loaded with them."

Quick shake of her head.

"Okay," I said, refocusing on the little girl, "first, though, we have to blow our nose, all right?"

She grunted her agreement, which from a toddler, was adorable.

I pulled out two tissues because one just didn't cut it if you wanted your skin snot-and-booger-free with toddlers. Crouching in front of her, I held the tissues gently to her face and gave the order to blow. She did what all kids do and blew like she was trying to get her brains out through her nose. No amount of saying gently had ever worked with any of my nieces or nephews, so I did not even let the word out of my mouth. I had to get out two more tissues, but once that was done, she breathed in and out and looked a bit better, less blotchy, and I used another to wipe her eyes.

"Okay," I announced, opening the package and passing the little girl a cracker. The garbage all went into a bag that had previously carried the magazine I bought, gum, and the snack that was being enjoyed by a darling toddler.

"Good job," I praised her and gave her the package. "And how are we eating those?"

"One at a time," she parroted my earlier instructions, taking out another.

I smiled at her. "You're very smart."

She was a delicate eater, took small bites, and after the third, looked up at me with a cheesy, peanut-buttery-and-crumb smile.

"Okay, good," I said, smiling at her. "Is it okay if I put you on my suitcase?"

"Uh-huh." She held her arms out to me.

Putting all my things down, I then unzipped her parka, lifted her up, and placed her face-forward on my rolling suitcase so her little legs were dangling next to the extended handle. Then I had her lean forward and zipped her parka up around the handle so she couldn't fall back or move, other than to eat. Once that was done, I picked everything up and rolled my suitcase, which had the great wheels so I could keep it upright, back over to her mother, who was still in the middle of the floor.

"Okay, Mom, it's your turn."

Lifting her head, she pushed out of her face the thick red hair she'd passed to her daughter. "Who are you?"

I think that was what she said, but her voice was so clogged with tears that it was hard to discern. But it made sense, so I went with that.

I offered her my hand. "Cooper Davis. And you?"

She took a breath and grabbed my hand tight. "Ainsley Cushing."

"Lovely to meet you, Ainsley."

"You too," she said as her eyes filled.

I pulled the tissues out of my laptop bag and passed them to her. "Let's blow our nose, wipe our eyes, and then you can tell me what happened to the stroller."

"They put it through baggage even though I gate-checked it," she lamented, ready to cry again at any moment.

"Of course they did," I said sarcastically and got a whimper in return. "All right, then, let's go get it."

"Oh no, you were on your way out and?—"

"The man I'm meeting is running very late, so I actually have lots of time, and you and your lovely daughter and—" I tipped my head at the car seat.

"My son, Taylor," she answered, sounding stuffed up.

"Tay-Tay," Gemma chimed in.

"Yes, Tay-Tay," Ainsley repeated.

"I could not leave you, Gemma, and Tay-Tay in such a state."

"Why not?"

It was an odd question but she was, in fact, overwrought. "I'm a fixer. It's my job to leave all people and situations better than I found them."

"You're kidding." She deadpanned.

I grinned at her. "I'm not."

"Huh."

"Plus, if you must know, I have a soft spot for mothers and their kids."

Another whimper, and she was weeping again in seconds.

"You can keep the tissues," I teased her, and she tried valiantly to give me a smile.

I noted the wedding set, diamond and band, on her left hand. "Where's your spouse?"

She laughed, and it sounded a bit unhinged. "My husband and I got separated on the last flight because it was oversold, so he'll be here in three hours with our two boys."

"Four kids on a plane?" I said in mock horror. "I have to ask madam, are you doing penance from God?"

Her laugh was a good sound, even with being a bit manic, and I wasn't surprised when the tears came again. She was utterly overwrought.

"What time did you leave your house this morning?"

"Five," she answered.

"And no sleep last night."

"No. We were packing. I couldn't do it during the day. I work from home, and I have the kids as well. Only one is in kindergarten."

"You need a break."

She nodded.

"And I'm betting someone to clean the house once a week. My sister Chloe and her husband used to fight all the time over who had to clean. Like who did laundry, who did the vacuuming, because they both worked outside the home. But now a lovely woman and her two daughters come once a week, and guess what, no more fighting."

She sniffled. "I always felt like we should be able to clean our own house."

"Certainly, if you weren't working, or he wasn't. But you both are, so maybe get some help. Just try it and see."

"You think I'm pathetic because?—"

"I don't think that for a second. I have sisters who all have kids, and that is not easy. Mothers are astounding. My own used to tell me that if she'd had me first, she would have stopped at one."

She nodded.

"But please, I would never judge. We all hit a wall at some point."

"Yes," she agreed with a sigh.

"Juju," Gemma announced, and even without translation, I knew she was thirsty. "May I?" I asked before leaning over and pulling Gemma's sippy cup out of the pocket of the backpack Ainsley was bearing the weight of. The cup was empty, but it looked and smelled like it had milk in it earlier.

"Okay, Gemma, hold on," I said to the toddler before turning to Ainsley. "I'm gonna go rinse this out at the water filling station right there, and I'm taking your kid with me."

She gave me a dismissive wave.

I rolled Gemma with me, rinsed the sippy cup, and once that was done, I filled it with water and passed it to Gemma.

"Juju," she insisted.

It was a cute word, and she was adorable when she said it, but that wouldn't sway me since it was all we had on hand and better for her body and her teeth than juice. "No," I replied, shaking my head. "Water."

She scowled at me, and it was pretty good for a two-year-old, but I'd been through this with nieces and nephews and I was ready. I could outlast her no matter what.

After only a few moments she gave me an aggrieved sigh and said, "Wadder," then started slurping it down.

Once I returned to Ainsley, rolling her daughter along with me, she looked better standing up.

"So, shall we go get the stroller?"

Quick nod.

"I will hug you if that's okay, but I need permission."

She whispered a please, and I wrapped her up tight. There were lots of awwws and comments from people walking by. I heard What a sweet family and How clever is that, how the toddler is on the suitcase .

Ainsley finally pulled back, sniffled, took a breath, and pointed at Gemma. "That is clever."

"You can thank my sister Camryn. She doesn't wait for short legs going through the airport. Her youngest always rides."

She smiled. "How many sisters do you have?"

"Four."

"And brothers?"

I grinned at her.

"Oh I see, your mother would have stopped with you if she had you first."

"That's what she always says, but you know, she exaggerates a bit, and I'm her favorite child without question. I might have been a terror when I was Gemma's age, but once we all hit puberty, I was easy. The girls were hard."

"My parents only had girls, and they were always thankful."

"Well, again, I'm the one she loves the most. Everyone knows that."

"That part where you told me she exaggerates, have you ever said that to her face?"

I squinted at her. "I would be murdered. Horribly. Do you understand how fast she could kill me?"

She was laughing now. "I knew it."

"Okay, so let's do this. You get yourself rebalanced there under your mountain-climbing gear," I quipped, walking around her and picking up Taylor, "and I'll take the baby."

"But you have your garment bag too and?—"

"Notice the strap on said bag hanging quite nicely off my shoulder."

"But your backpack is?—"

"Much like yours, able to go over both shoulders."

She huffed out a breath. "Okay."

Once we were moving toward baggage claim, she asked if I was all right.

"Why?"

"Taylor's heavy."

"He's really not," I assured her. "I suspect he gets heavy with this sherpa bag on your back, rolling the biggest suitcase I've ever seen in my life—really, I had no idea they made them that big—and having to stop for a toddler."

Deep sigh then, like finally, she was decompressing a bit.

"So seriously, what's with this backpack? Are you scaling Everest later?"

"There's toys in it, plus extras of everything, and of course the baby bag I normally carry."

"Oh thank God, I was afraid you went to Target like this."

She found that hysterical and was laughing as we walked. More people turned to smile at us as we passed.

"So four sisters?" she asked as we went down the escalator to the ground floor.

"Yep. Cora's the oldest, then Chloe, Celeste, and Camryn."

"I meant to ask earlier about that name."

"Camryn with no e , and a y replaces the o . Fancy spelling. My mother liked the name, and it shortens to Cam, which my sister likes. She's a scary tax attorney and enjoys it when people expect a man, are surprised she's a woman, and then even more surprised that she's a hard-ass and puts them in their place. I think it stems from lack of power growing up. We all lived under Cora's thumb. Still do, really."

"Cora sounds great."

I shook my head.

"You adore her."

" Adore is a strong word."

"You'd give her a kidney if she needed it."

"Well, of course. Do you know how much mileage I would get for that? She'd never be able to yell at me again."

Her smile was brilliant. "You all have C names. I wish I'd stuck to one letter."

"My mother says that one letter is easier to remember."

"You know, a man who loves his mother is always good."

"You ever see Psycho ?"

"And he's funny too. How wonderful."

I scoffed, and she led me to the opposite end of the baggage claim, where the two-seater stroller was sitting in the unclaimed area behind several rows. I had Ainsley wait as I went to get it. Once I had it out, I snapped it open easily and rolled it over to her.

"That was impressive," she told me. "My brothers, my father, my friends, they don't know how to get it open in one movement."

"Celeste has this one because she had twins first time out," I explained, putting the baby in the first seat, facing the handle so his mother could see his face, and then was going to remove Gemma from my suitcase.

The little girl lifted her hand and said, so sweetly and politely, "No, thank you."

I smiled at Ainsley. "Gemma would prefer to ride where she is."

"Yes, but we need to let you go and?—"

"Or we could eat."

As she looked at me, her stomach, which had been growling softly, nearly roared.

"What do you say?"

A very long sigh was her answer.

We found a place that did breakfast and lunch and already had a full bar.

"I never understood that," Ainsley commented as we sat, with Gemma in a high chair and the stroller parked so we could see Taylor. "Why would the airlines want people to get drunk before they get on a plane?"

"Perhaps they think they'll sleep the whole way."

"In my experience, tipsy people drink more on the plane and then become belligerent. I just think this is a terrible idea."

A woman trying to get off her barstool fell down. I would have gotten up, but she had some friends with her to help her.

"This is exactly what I mean," she told me, gesturing at the woman as Taylor let out a little squawk.

"Oh, he's hungry," she said, glancing around. "Did we pass a bathroom?"

"Why?"

"I'm breastfeeding, so I need?—"

"Don't you have a baby blanket or a shawl?"

"Well, yes, but?—"

"Then what's the problem? All my sisters breastfed their kids, and they've done it everywhere. Have cover-up, will travel."

"You won't be embarrassed?"

"Of breastfeeding?"

"I love the look on your face, like I'm nuts, but all the men in my life, except my husband, and even some of the women, prefer that I go to the bathroom."

I scoffed. "Do you have clothespins?"

"What?"

"My sisters all have clothespins they clip to the collar of their shirts so the baby doesn't whip that blanket off like ta-da! presenting the boob."

She started laughing, and I got up and got Taylor out of his car seat.

"Clothespins would have saved me in the past," she said as I passed her Taylor. "I do have hair clips."

"Okay. Where's the blanket and the clips? Both in your mountain-climbing gear?"

"So funny," she said as Gemma coughed.

"One nuggie at a time," I warned her daughter, using the word Gemma had earlier when we ordered, and the one all my nieces and nephews did as well. "Are you all right?"

Big smile for me.

"Show me your airway is not compromised by breathing in and out like this," I said, then took several deep breaths and blew them out.

She looked at me like she wasn't sure I was all right, but performed for me anyway.

"Thank you."

She shook her head at me. I turned back to her mother. "She's very dismissive and judgmental. Have you noticed this about her?"

She was smiling at me like I was dear, and I started rummaging in the backpack, where she told me the clips probably were, and after quite a bit of looking, I came up with them and a good-sized cotton baby blanket. Once she was ready, Taylor went under the blanket, I used the clips, and even when the two-month-old grasped the blanket and gave it a tug, there was no movement. Ainsley looked over at me, eyes wide.

"See? No ta-da moments."

"I will invest in clothespins."

"They work better. Easier to get on and off. Celeste also recommends balancing small bowls on your baby's head while they nurse so you can keep eating."

She chuckled. "I've rested many a sandwich there in my day."

"There ya go."

After lunch that I bought, even over her objections, we found an area where Ainsley and I could sit and talk. She put Taylor to sleep in his car seat, and we started talking about the wedding we were both there for. We had discovered over our shared meal that we were going to the same place for the same reason—her niece Bitsy's wedding.

"What's with the name Bitsy? It's Elizabeth, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"So Liz was a no-go? Or Beth? Or, I dunno, Lizzie? I hear there's a great book heroine with that name."

Big smile. "Listen, rich people have darling nicknames that make no sense. Bitsy's brother's name is Sebastian, and they call him Bash."

"Bash is better than Bitsy."

"What's interesting is that the groom, Orson Phillips, is actually a friend of Jeff's."

"Jeff is your husband?"

"Yes. They were all on their annual guy weekend to Vegas. All his frat brothers get together and go, and I guess Bitsy was there with some of her friends, and when they met, it was love at first sight."

"How romantic."

She smiled. "You said that very sarcastically."

"I'm impressed is all, that Jeff gets a whole weekend getaway with his buddies every year. That sounds lovely."

"It is."

"And do you have a vacation where he watches the kids alone every year?"

She didn't immediately respond. "I don't, no, but I don't have a big group of friends from college either. I didn't pledge."

"Neither did I, but I don't think being in a sorority or a fraternity gives you break privileges once you have kids. That needs to change immediately."

"I don't know if that's necessary."

"It is, unless you're using that time to have your friends over and have a big communal girls' vacation with?—"

"We both know that's not happening."

"Then it's not fair."

"Yeah, but?—"

"It's not," I insisted. "And I will shut up after this and not say another word?—"

"No, that's not?—"

"But come on," I said pointedly. "He gets a break because he has frat brothers?"

She stared at me. "Your face is all scrunched up like you're concerned about my sanity."

"I'm just amazed you're taking care of four kids and working full-time from home and you haven't run your husband over in the driveway for being so selfish."

"Yes, but he works too and?—"

I scoffed. "You love him, and he's very lucky, and that's all. I'm done."

Neither of us said a word for a moment.

"My best friend said the same thing."

"Your best friend sounds very smart."

"Ugh."

"No? She's dumb as a rock?"

"Stop."

"What am I doing?"

"You're actually right, just like Lola is, just like my mother."

"Oh, your mom too. Imagine that."

"I just… He's a good person, and we all need some time alone to decompress. Don't you think?"

"Sure," I agreed. "But my parents took us with them on vacations, and when they didn't, they went alone and we stayed with our grandparents, which is a story for another time because my grandmother had a room full of those dolls, you know? The kind that you lean them back and their eyes close, and forward and they open… Creepy as hell."

She laughed.

"Whole room staring at you. And one time, Chloe left her pink elephant in there—his name is Fred, she still has him, but whatever, not important—and I had to run in and get Fred 'cause I was the fastest. To this day, she'll bring me a treat out of the blue—dinner, some kind of pie—to thank me for getting her elephant out of the death room."

"Why was she in there to begin with?"

"Poking the dolls with the end of the broom handle to see if they flinched."

"Your sister has quite the imagination."

"Did you miss the part where I said they were creepy?"

"I'm sure they were those pretty porcelain dolls that are?—"

"Haunted. Yes. All of them."

Shaking her head, she squinted at me. "You're a grown-up now."

I scoffed. "When my grandmother passed, my aunt Davida begged my mother for the dolls, and my mom was like, Of course, Davida, all yours, I'll just take Mom's china , and Davida was so happy. Little did she know, my mother was going to ship the lot of them off to Borneo or something."

"They're probably worth a lot of money to collectors."

" Haunted ," I repeated.

"You're a very good brother for saving Fred."

"When we went to church that Sunday, Chloe took Fred and had Father John say a little blessing over him and hit him with some holy water just in case he got bad juju on him."

"That's a nice priest to do that for your sister."

"He grew up with my dad, they were in the same house in foster care together, so we knew him. He came and had dinner with us a lot."

"I love that."

"Well, the important part is, he made sure Fred was good."

"I feel like your poor aunt Davida is misunderstood."

"Her kids are weird too."

"They're your cousins."

"I don't care. They're weird. You can ask my sisters." I was adamant. "But back to the original topic…you and your husband should go away together or not at all. Equality in all things except bug killing. I do that for my sisters when their husbands aren't home."

Her smile was wide.

"Clear across town to remove spiders from closets and bathtubs."

"You're a good brother."

I shrugged. "They're good sisters."

"It's nice to hear about a close family that also lives near one another. Not as much of that anymore."

"True."

"May I just say, I really appreciate your not asking why I brought my children to a wedding."

"Why would I? It's a lot of days to be away from them, and Taylor's only two months old, after all."

"A lot of people leave their kids and travel or just go away for long weekends to keep the spark alive in their marriage, but we don't have family close, and all our friends have kids too."

"Sure."

"And besides, I like being home with my kids."

"And Jeff?"

"He does too. We're both there, in it."

"I'm glad. He sounds like a good husband and father."

Her eyes narrowed.

"No, I mean it. Except in regard to the trip."

"Yes. Agreed."

"And you look amazing, by the way."

"Thank you for saying that. I feel like a blob, and it's only going to get worse with all the people who will be at this wedding."

I scoffed. "Don't make me lecture you on body positivity and not comparing ourselves to others. That is not helpful."

"Says the utterly gorgeous man who looks like he belongs in a magazine."

I winked at her, and she sighed deeply.

"At least my hormones are back under control."

"Cora had to see someone after her fourth child. She wasn't herself, and her doctor figured out fairly quickly that she had postpartum depression. We all helped out."

"Your family sounds amazing, but it's not that for me, it's just motherhood as a whole. So many people make it look easy, and then there's me."

"Well, you're doing pretty good if you ask me. That day job of yours, taking people up and down the mountains, is not easy."

She chuckled. "I like you. You should come home with me and be my new bestie. I don't talk to anyone like this, but I feel like I've known you forever."

"I would follow you home, but my sisters enjoy having me come over and watch their kids. They might fight you for me, and there's four of them and they fight dirty."

"Been on the bad end of that dirty fighting, have you?"

"You have no idea."

"I would love to meet them."

"Where do you live?"

"Green Bay. You?"

"Chicago. We'll have to arrange a visit."

She took hold of my hand then. "I would love that. Let's exchange numbers."

And we did, which made me happy.

"You know, don't Orson and Bitsy sound like some creepy couple who live in the crumbling house at the end of the block that you ran by superfast when you were little?"

"Stop," she scolded.

"Bitsy always wants to give you stale cookies, and Orson has a lot of knives."

"Stop," she warned me, using her mom voice. "I mean it. You're gonna make me pee."

I started laughing, and then she did, and we were both done.

Another hour later, and along came Jeffrey Cushing, appearing far older than his thirty-seven years, with two boys in tow, one four, the other five.

"He looked better this morning when we left the house," Ainsley commented. "But so did I."

"You look radiant," I assured her.

"I certainly feel better than I did when I got off the plane," she said, smiling at me. "You really are a lifesaver."

"As I told you earlier, I'm a fixer."

"You most certainly are."

Ainsley turned from me and waved, and the boys flew across the terminal to reach us, with Jeff carrying the same size backpack as she had, rolling one large suitcase and two smaller ones. The boys crashed into their mother, happy to see her, climbing all over her and explaining, in great detail, talking over one another, the things their father didn't know how to do, from playing their shows on their tablets, to giving them their snacks, to not telling the lady on the plane that they didn't drink grape juice or cranberry, only apple.

When they noticed me holding Gemma, who was passed out on my shoulder, I held out my hand to each and introduced myself. Joey, the oldest, met me first, and then Timothy. Once Jeff reached us, he flopped gracelessly down into the seat beside Ainsley.

"You all right?" she teased him.

"I'm sorry for not realizing you're a rock star. I apologize wholeheartedly for anything I might have ever said that led you to believe you're not amazing."

Her smile was radiant.

I thought, Attaboy, Jeff . He was utterly redeemed in my eyes with a few simple words.

"You have stores of patience I do not possess. Like, at all."

She was chuckling as she took his hand. "No more boy trips unless I get to take girl trips. Fair is fair."

"Oh yes. Agreed. Without question," he acknowledged sincerely. "And I'm sorry for those too. It's you and me from now on. Lots of weekend trips together, just the family. We can go on adventures up at my sister's cabin."

"That sounds really good."

He sighed deeply and kissed her. The boys made disgusted noises, like they were going to die. Once the kiss was over, they both turned to me.

"You must be the amazing Cooper."

"I'm amazing?" I asked Ainsley.

"Ohmygod, without question. Completely. I mean, you bought lunch."

"I did. I did buy lunch."

She tipped her head as she grinned at me. "I don't suppose you want to take that one with you?" she offered, waggling her eyebrows at me.

"I might. Let me think about it."

"Well," Jeff said, "since we're all going to the same place, shall we grab one of the inn shuttles?"

"Yes, please," Ainsley agreed. "I mean, I've grown fond of this airport, but a bed sounds good, as does a shower."

"It's only an hour away," Jeff told her.

"What?" she whined.

"Maybe longer," I chimed in. "There's a lot of rain out there, and fog."

Her groan was loud.

Gemma woke up then, was very happy to see her daddy, but had to pee. Once all the children had gone to the bathroom and Taylor's diaper was changed, we got ready to go.

Jeff was surprised when his daughter refused the stroller and walked over to me, arms lifted. Picking her up, I put her on my suitcase and zipped the parka.

"That's amazing," Jeff told me as Timothy, the four-year-old, got into the front seat of the stroller, ready to be pushed, worn out from the flights.

Joey was happy to take his mother's hand, and we were off.

Once we reached the shuttles, I stood with them as people who knew Ainsley greeted her. I noted that they kept their distance from the children. I suspected no one wanted any part of Ainsley and Jeff's more-than-likely-sticky kids. That's what my sisters always told me.

On the shuttle, Gemma wanted to sit with me, and I made sure she could see out the window. There were comments about the ocean and fish, the rain, which, with a booming clap of thunder, began coming down in sheets, and then she asked me if I had any more crackers.

"You're hungry again?"

Lots of nodding.

"Where are you keeping it?"

She pointed to her stomach, and everyone around us laughed.

I really enjoyed being with the family. It had been a nice start to my job. A distraction until the real work began. Would it be too much to ask that the rest of my time in Maine be just as smooth?

One could only hope.