Page 18 of Shotgun Spouse
On the edge of the dresser, a neatly folded stack of clothes caught her eye. An old college T-shirt, soft and worn with age, sat on top of a pair of gray sweatpants. She picked them up, her fingers brushing over the fabric. They smelled faintly of detergent and something undeniably Teddy.
A blush crept up her neck, but she pushed the thought aside. She pulled the clothes on, knotting the sweatpants at her waist. She padded out of the room, her bare feet silent against the cool hardwood floor.
The scent of bacon and eggs hit her first, warm and savory, pulling her toward the kitchen. But as she turned the corner, the sight before her stopped her cold.
Teddy was dancing.
With the baby cradled in one arm and a spatula in the other, he swayed around the kitchen, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a Motown classic. The baby let out a tiny giggle, her chubby hands flailing as she bounced in his arms.
The scene was so domestic, so absurdly endearing, that Bunny felt something deep in her chest shift. No, not her chest—lower. Her ovaries, maybe.
She stood frozen in the doorway, watching as Teddy twirled, his socked feet sliding across the floor. The baby squealed in delight. Teddy laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the kitchen like sunshine.
Then he looked up and saw her.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, his grin wide and unabashed. His dark eyes sparkled.
Bunny’s heart stuttered in her chest. Her voice caught in her throat. All she managed was, “Uh… morning.”
Teddy adjusted the baby in his arms, still grinning. “Hope you don’t mind, but we started breakfast without you. Figured you could use the sleep.”
Bunny blinked, her gaze darting between the baby, the spatula, and the frying pan sizzling on the stove. The domesticity of it all—the warmth, the laughter, the easy grace with which Teddy handled the baby—made her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t ready to name.
“Looks like you’ve got everything under control,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her stomach.
“Are you kidding? I’m killing it. Spatula in one hand, baby in the other. I’m basically a superhero. Just had to remind myself that this is a kid, and kids love me.”
The baby let out another coo, as though in agreement.
Bunny crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mayor Carter.”
“Too late.” He glanced back at her. His eyes ran over her, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. His grin softened into something warmer.
Where his gaze traveled, Bunny felt every inch of flesh warm. Her heart gave another traitorous flutter, and for a moment, she let herself imagine that this was her life. That this man, this baby, this kitchen filled with laughter and the smell of breakfast—was hers.
But it wasn't.
Bunny had her own little ones to take care of. Not that her sisters were little. They were grown, but they still needed her guidance.
She stared out the window, watching the snow fall in thick, relentless sheets. The world outside was a blur of white, and the weight of the storm pressed down on her chest. Her thoughts churned like the wind beyond the glass. She couldn’t stop thinking about her sisters.
Birdie needed her. Bunny had promised to file that paperwork for her. And Kitten—sweet, impulsive Kitten—wouldn’t make that call to her soon-to-be ex-husband unless Bunny was there to hold her hand.
Looking at the storm, she knew she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The snow was piled high, blanketing Teddy’s driveway, the road, and the bridge they’d crossed the night before. Even if she could make it to the car, there was no way it would get her back into town. She sighed, her breath fogging the window.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, turning back to Teddy, who stood at the stove flipping pancakes. “Shouldn’t the emergency response team be getting to the mayor first? Aren’t you supposed to be a priority?”
Teddy didn’t even look up. “They called. Said they’ll get up here after they handle the town. Citizens come first.”
She opened her mouth to argue but stopped when the baby let out a soft coo. Teddy set down the spatula and turned, cradling the baby in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. He bounced slightly, murmuring something Bunny couldn’t quite catch. The baby’s giggle bubbled up, soft and infectious.
He walked over, transferring the baby into her arms like they'd done it a thousand times before. Bunny’s getaway plans dissolved as she looked down at the tiny face, pink-cheeked and smiling. The baby was clean, fed, and undeniably happy—all Teddy’s doing.
“She’s fine,” he said, brushing his hands on a towel. “I took care of everything. You can stop worrying for at least five minutes.”
Bunny’s mouth twitched, but she said nothing. Instead, she sat at the table, holding the baby close. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of something before she had to.
Teddy set a plate in front of her, the steam curling up and carrying the delicious aroma with it. “Eat,” he said, pouring her a cup of tea and sliding it next to the plate.
