one
Cordelia Grace Johnsonstared down the community bulletin board in the Donut Palace, wondering how her life had come to this.
The scent of warm donuts made her stomach rumble. Despite being in the third trimester of her pregnancy, her cravings hadn’t slowed down. Maybe once she was done with the bulletin board, she’d grab a strawberry shortcake donut. That would be a nice reward once she gathered up the courage to do what she came here for.
Her hands were cold, her grip tight and clammy around the flyer she’d made. The flyer she was supposed to post on the bulletin board in front of her.
There were ads for landscaping services, Australian cattle dog puppies, and a friendly rooster for anyone looking. Faded pink glitter paint and hand-drawn sprinkle donuts decorated the board’s frame. It was the perfect picture of small-town life, and that’s what Star Crossed Springs was—the picture-perfect small town.
Cordy was about to pin an ad for a labor coach in the middle of all that coziness. How did this even happen?
There was a joke there, although she didn’t feel like laughing.You see, when a man loves a woman very much…
Except Reed Saxon hadn’t loved her any more than she’d loved him. Cordy had arrived in this little town in Northern California not even a year ago, intending to stay for a few months. That was what she did—she traveled the world, seeing the places and towns that caught her fancy, then moving on soon after. It’s what she’d done since she was a kid.
She and Reed had started seeing each other two months after she moved here. Neither of them figured they’d be in it for the long haul—after all, Cordy wasn’t sticking around. Their relationship was supposed to be short, hot, and over as soon as it began.
Then her missed period and positive pregnancy test had changed everything.
Reed had stepped up when she’d told him the news. Oh, they weren’t getting married or even going to move in together, but they would raise this baby as a team. His parents had pushed hard for them to get hitched, but Cordy had held firm. Her parents had never been married, had never even spent much time on the same continent, and Cordy had been just fine.
Reed had been determined to support her and the baby despite his family’s objections… but then the car crash had happened.
He was gone, and thanks to that, Cordy was in this situation—posting an ad for a labor coach in the Donut Palace because she had no one else to ask.
Maybe the better line would be:I loved you so much I asked complete strangers to help me become your mom before you were even here.
Cordy ran a hand over her belly, which had become one unbroken curve after her navel popped last week. She was surprised by how much she loved touching her bump. There wasa little girl or boy in there she would love for the rest of her life. Somehow, a miracle had happened out of all the mess she and Reed had made together.
“Do you need a pushpin?” Liberty Valance asked kindly from behind the counter. “I’ve got some.”
Liberty, young and lively, was always on the move. She had a goth vibe and was constantly dressed head to toe in black, with long bangs covering her heavily lined eyes. She didn’t look like she should be making donuts all day, but she and her family ran the Donut Palace.
A picture of them hung on the wall, several generations of Valances beaming out from the frame. There was also a picture of two gleaming black ducks, which Cordy didn’t understand. Were the ducks pets? Did the family run a duck farm on the side? She had no idea. But they were definitely a close-knit family.
The Johnson family, however, definitely wasn’t. Cordelia’s parents were free spirits who’d raised her to be the same. This was why Mom was somewhere in Mongolia, completely unreachable, Dad was on an extended holiday in Sardinia, and Cordy was in Star Crossed Springs, about to raise a baby alone.
She’d told Dad about her pregnancy, but Mom still didn’t know. Given how Dad had reacted—“That’s great, sweetie, I’m so happy for you. It can’t call me grandpa, though.”—Cordy wasn’t eager to hear her mom’s reaction, either.
Janey Lee, Liberty’s formidable grandma, stepped up behind the counter. She looked Cordy up and down and didn’t seem impressed by what she saw. “What you need is to get off your feet.”
Liberty muttered to her grandma, “You always brag about how you worked right until your water broke.” She gave Cordy an apologetic smile.
“Yes, but I’ve got heft.” Janey Lee jiggled her belly to emphasize her statement. “That girl is a beanpole.”
It was true—Cordy had always been on the gangly side. She hadn’t bloomed with pregnancy. Sometimes, her belly felt like it had been bolted on while the rest of her body stayed the same. As for getting off her feet, Cordy was a bartender. Her feet were made of iron by this point.
“I’m good,” she replied, her usual response. Along with going her own way, her parents had stressed extreme independence. You could only ever rely on yourself—Cordy had heard that often growing up.
“Ooohhkay,” Liberty said loudly to her grandmother. “We don’t comment on other people’s bodies.”
“It wasn’t an insult,” Janey Lee said. “I said she needed to take it easy, and she does.”
I’m so sorry, Liberty mouthed to Cordy as she handed over some thumbtacks.
Cordy took them with a weak smile of thanks. Right. She had to nail this to the bulletin board, even though everything in her cringed away from it. But if she wanted to take this last course, she had to.
With a deep breath, she pinned her flyer right in the middle of the board, the only open space left. It stuck out like a sore thumb.
