But Zach wasn’t going to be scared off by anything she said or did because that little girl was his daughter. He was sure of it. And he suspected that Paige was sure of it, too, but she was going to drag things out, hoping that he would have to go wheels up again before anything was resolved.
If that was the case, Paige Wilder was in for a surprise because Zach wasn’t going anywhere without his daughter.
Emma was still sound asleep when the sun started to peek over the horizon, but Paige crawled out of bed anyway. Oh- nine-hundred was definitely a more civilized hour, but she knew that the promise of French toast would be enough to summon her cousins for a quick breakfast meeting before Zach arrived.
Ashley was a first-grade teacher who’d never wanted anything more than she’d wanted a family, and in the past year she’d ended her engagement to a cheating fiancé and then married the high-school sweetheart who had moved back to town. Now she was stepmother to his darling little girl and expecting a baby of her own in just about three months. Megan was the vice president of research and development at Richmond Pharmaceuticals, married to the company president’s youngest son and in her ninth month of pregnancy.
The three of them had traditionally met once a month for Sunday brunch and, occasionally, on Friday nights just to hang out together. It used to be that their social gatherings included as much wine as conversation, but that had changed in the past year since first Megan and then Ashley got pregnant and Paige learned she’d been entrusted with custody of Emma.
But the camaraderie they shared and their trust in one another hadn’t changed, and Paige knew they never would. And that was why she’d come home—to be with these women who knew her better than anyone else ever had, who understood her hopes and dreams, and who would understand how confused and conflicted she was feeling right now.
As if on cue, Ashley was at the door with her seven-year-old stepdaughter just as the coffee finished brewing and Emma woke up.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Maddie,” she said. “I figured she could help keep Emma busy while we talked and then she and I can leave for school directly from here.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Paige said because, aside from the fact that she was grateful Ashley was there, she absolutely adored Maddie.
“Do you like French toast?” she asked.
The child’s eyes sparkled as she nodded her head enthusiastically. “I love French toast.”
“Then you get the first piece,” Paige decided, dipping a slice of bread into the egg batter, then dropping it into the hot pan.
Her cousins were the reason she’d come back to Pinehurst when the proverbial rug had been pulled out from beneath her feet. Of course, she’d had no idea then that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better—and she was keeping her fingers crossed that they would get better—but she knew she could count on Ashley and Megan to stand by her and support her whatever she decided to do.
“Mmm, I smell French toast,” Megan said, waddling into the kitchen a few minutes later.
“I promised you breakfast,” Paige reminded her.
“So you did,” Megan agreed. “But you know we would have come even without the bribe.”
Paige nodded, tears stinging her eyes as she slid the spatula under the bread and flipped it in the pan.
And although she knew her cousins had to be curious about the reason for her frantic phone calls last night, they didn’t press her. Instead, they worked around one another in the kitchen—Paige making the toast, Ashley serving it up for the kids, Megan brewing the herbal tea her sister had always preferred while sipping half a cup of coffee generously doctored with milk for the benefit of the baby she was carrying.
When Maddie had finished her breakfast and washed up, she took Emma into the living room to play with her, and the three adults sat down with their plates.
“Is this about the hunky guy Melanie saw you with last night?” Ashley asked.
“When did you see Melanie?” Paige countered.
“What hunky guy?” Megan wanted to know.
“Melanie was walking her dog when Maddie and I were on our way over here. She told me that there was a tall, dark-haired and very handsome man at your door last night and that you invited him inside. But not for very long, she assured me. Just about long enough for a cup of coffee, and then he was on his way again.”
Paige shook her head. “Remind me again why I decided to stay here.”
“Because you wanted to take some time to figure out your future, because you wanted to be closer to Megan and I, and because it’s a great neighborhood where the residents look out for one another.”
“Is that another way of saying ‘spy on one another'?”
“Who cares about the neighborhood?” Megan said. “I want to hear about the hunky man.”
Paige swirled a piece of French toast in syrup, then set her fork down again without eating it. Even the coffee that was as necessary to her system as oxygen in the morning wasn’t sitting comfortably in her stomach, and the breakfast she’d prepared held even less appeal.
“The hunky man is Lieutenant Colonel Zach Crawford of the United States Air Force. He claims—”
She thought she could get through this without any more tears, but the moisture that filled her eyes proved otherwise.
“He claims to be Emma’s father.”
“Emma’s father?” The shock in Ashley’s voice echoed Paige’s initial response to Zach’s announcement.
She nodded.
“Did he have any proof?” Megan demanded. As a successful research scientist, she was skeptical of anything that couldn’t be proven.
“He had a letter … from Olivia.”
Megan reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Olivia named you as Emma’s guardian.”
“I know. But if it turns out that he is her father—” She couldn’t finish the thought.
But she didn’t need to. When Ashley reached for her other hand, she knew that they understood the bond she’d formed with Emma. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t carried the child in her womb or given birth to her—she’d taken prenatal classes with Olivia, coached her through the birth and, after the doctor and the mother, she’d been the first to hold the newborn baby.
Still, it was more than that. It was the realization that when Olivia died, the child had no one. And admittedly, there had been more than a few moments when Paige had cursed her friend for naming her the baby’s guardian, moments when she’d fervently wished Olivia had chosen someone—anyone—else.
But now things were different. They had a routine, and a connection. When Emma cried, Paige instinctively knew whether she was wet or hungry or tired or just wanted to be held. And she’d found that nothing comforted her so much as offering comfort to the baby she’d grown to love as if she were her own.
“If he’d shown up five months ago—heck, maybe even five weeks ago—I might have jumped at the opportunity to turn Emma over to him. But now … I can’t imagine my life without her.”
“You’re the expert on custody matters,” Ashley reminded her. “So all I’ll say is, whatever you need, we’re here for you.”
“Absolutely,” Megan agreed.
Paige