Dragging myself out of bed, I wrapped my bathrobe around me and stumbled for the door.

“Yes?” I croaked before opening it. My voice was hoarse from crying and my eyes still stung.

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?” The voice was Chloe’s.

I opened the door and saw her standing there with two cardboard coffee cups in her hands. “I take it April told you what happened with Mack.”

“Yes, but only me. Mom and Dad think you weren’t feeling well, which freaked Mom out, of course, but then I told her it was just cramps.”

“Thanks. Come on in.”

“You look terrible,” she said, kicking the door shut.

“I feel worse,” I assured her, heading for the couch. I flopped onto it and curled into a ball, wrapping my furry blanket around me.

“So do you want to talk about it?” She sat next to me and set one cup on the table. “That’s for you.”

“What’s to talk about?” I set my chin on my knees. “He doesn’t want me.”

“No. I don’t buy it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I’ve heard the way he talks about you. The guy adores you.”

“Not enough,” I said, feeling my throat get tight again. “He said things were moving too fast and it was making him feel bad. He hated all the sneaking around, but he didn’t want to tell the kids.”

“I don’t get that.” Chloe frowned and shook her head. “I could see if you were some strange woman he met at a bar somewhere that he wouldn’t want to bring you around his kids too soon. But he’s known you for years. He’s known this family forever. And his kids already love you.”

“I think that’s part of the problem.” I took a shuddery breath. “He’s afraid they’re too attached to me.”

“How is that a problem?”

“It wouldn’t be if we wanted the same things in the future. But he claims he’s never getting married again and doesn’t want more kids.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t know. I mean …” I sniffled. “Not really. I do want a husband and kids of my own someday. But it’s not like I need them tomorrow! Why can’t we see where this goes? Why does he have to freak out now?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to lead you on. Or lead the kids on.” Chloe sipped her coffee and shrugged. “I mean, let’s say it goes great for a year, and you start to get dreamy about a diamond ring and a big white dress. Then what?”

“Then we could talk about it,” I snapped, annoyed that my sister would see his side.

“Okay, let’s say you talk about it and he stands firm. There will be no second Mrs. Declan MacAllister. Then what?”

I struggled with it. “I don’t know. Why can’t he just love me enough, goddammit? And why are you on his side?”

“Oh, honey, I’m not. I think he’s crazy to give you up. I’m only trying to help you see it’s not that he doesn’t feel what you do. But he’s older and he’s been through a lot more. He’s not looking at this the same way you are. And he has a lot more baggage.”

“I know. Just forget it. It’s hopeless.” Dissolving into tears again, I tipped sideways in my faux fur cocoon and put my head in Chloe’s lap. “It was hopeless from the start.”

She stroked my hair and let me cry, but she didn’t tell me I was wrong.

Mack

Monday morning, I used the back door to the inn so I didn’t have to walk by the desk. By that afternoon, I was coming out of my skin, so I thought up an excuse to wander out to reception. Frannie’s mother was at the desk alone, and I asked her something inconsequential before ducking back down the hall to my office.

The day went on, and I never saw her. I started to get concerned. A few times I pulled out my phone and thought about texting or calling her, just to make sure she was okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

But she wasn’t there Tuesday, either, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Around ten, I wandered up to the desk and asked Daphne where she was.

“Oh, didn’t she tell you? She’s working in Traverse City this week at that coffee shop. She thought it would be a good idea to start there as soon as possible, learn the ropes before she started her own thing there.” Then she sighed. “I still think this is a crazy idea, and I can’t imagine what her father was thinking to encourage her, but …” She threw up her hands. “I’m just her mother, what do I know?”

“So she’s not working here at all anymore?”

Daphne shook her head. “No. On Sunday afternoon she came down and said that she really needed to start there as soon as possible, and could I please do without her starting Monday. I said I could, and I’m looking for a replacement. You don’t know anyone who’d be good at reception, do you?”

“Not offhand, but I’ll think about it.” I wished her luck and went back to my office, where I sank into my chair and stared blankly at my laptop. So I wouldn’t see her here anymore. I frowned. Had she quit early because of me? Was she going to quit watching the girls too? Would she even contact me to let me know?

I went home anxious and frustrated and angry with myself. Of course, I took it out on the kids, snapping at them about homework, barking about chores, and insisting that they eat what I put on the plate in front of them without complaint or I was going to lose my fucking mind. I made Winnie cry, I sent Millie to her room, and I ignored Felicity when she asked me why I was acting like a grumpy old man.

I also put a lot of money in the swear jar.

The next day, I apologized and tried to make it up to them by taking them out for tacos after therapy. When we got home, I went into my room and called Frannie. She didn’t answer, and I left her a message.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m just wondering if you’re still coming to watch the girls this week. Let me know.” Then I paused, battling the urge to say more, to say I missed her, to say I was sorry, to say I loved her too, but it was too fucking much to handle. “I hope you’re okay.”

I hung up and threw my phone down on the bed, fisting my hands in my hair. Of course she isn’t okay, you fuckwit. Are you okay?

I wasn’t. Especially not when her text came about an hour later, which said,

I will be there.

That’s it. Four words.

I typed a reply, deleted it, typed another, and deleted that too.

Just leave her alone, MacAllister. It’s what she wants. You can give her that much.

On Thursday, I drove home from work with white knuckles. I’d never been so nervous to walk into my own house.

Frannie was at the counter with Felicity, and they both looked up when I entered the kitchen. Neither of them looked particularly happy to see me.

“Hey,” I said, testing my voice.

“Hi, Daddy. We’re doing my spelling words.”

“Good.”

Frannie slid off her chair. “Millie is at ballet. I think Winnie’s in the bathroom upstairs.”

“Okay.” I stuck my hands in my pockets.

“Bye, Felicity. See you tomorrow.” Eyes averted, Frannie moved past me into the back hall, and I followed her.