Page 43 of The Guest Cottage
“Shouldn’t be.” She set aside her mug to stand.
He got up first and helped her. “Want me to come up with you?”
Biting her lip in indecision, she glanced toward his fishing gear.
“It’s fine.” He picked up the empty mug and took her hand. “Might just be a neighbor who’s curious about you.” But he didn’t think so. His instincts were usually dead-on, and he had a feeling trouble had come to call.
“Hmm. I’m not exactly dressed for company.”
Yet she’d greeted him, which told Cort that she was relaxed around him. Perfect. “You didn’t invite anyone, so that’s on them. But I think you look great.”
She sent him a quick, grateful smile as they climbed the hill. “Okay then. Might as well get this over with.”
At the side yard, they could see an older blue two-door car in her driveway. Marlow hesitated, then led him into the cottage through the sliding doors. She cut through the sitting room to the foyer.
Cort saw a small frown pinching her brows as she went to answer the knock at the door. He stepped up beside her, but as she pulled the door open, she froze. Eyes flaring wide and lips parting, she drew in a sharp breath and stared at the woman on her stoop.
He wasn’t sure what to do, and then Marlow whispered, “Pixie Nolan.”
What?Giving the young woman another glance, he saw her white-faced expression and finally realized that she held a small bundle in her arms.
A baby.
CHAPTER6
Pixie stared at the impressive woman standing before her. Marlow Heddings. Dylan’swife. God, this was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her entire life. From the inside out, she shook with fear, with illness, and with the knowledge that she would probably be cursed and hated.
How could Mrs. Heddings not hate her? She hated herself.
But . . . she loved her baby, and so she was here.
On the long, grueling, nearly impossible drive, she’d rehearsed what to say, the words repeating themselves over and over in her head, and yet now that she was here, all she could do was well up with tears. She hadn’t known so many tears could be stored in one body.
Any second now, her legs would give out. She tightened her hold on the baby and waited for the lash of rage.
Instead, the woman simply stared at her as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Not that Pixie blamed her. Only the worst sort of person would show up here.
If desperation hadn’t forced her, she never would have been so bold, so disgustingly shameless.
Finally, one small word, quavery with tears, breathless with worry, faint with illness, squeezed out of her constricted throat. “Please.”
* * *
Marlow couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Pixie Nolan was here, in Bramble. Why?
She’d seen photos of Pixie during the divorce negotiations. God, she looked so young in person. Much younger than Marlow had realized. It was bizarre, but she heard herself ask, “How old are you?”
The girl was trembling all over, her expression ashen except for splotches of red on her cheeks. Her light blond hair was badly tangled, and still she was beautiful.
“I’m twenty.”
Closing her eyes, Marlow tried to ground herself, but it wasn’t working.
“I’m sorry,” Pixie said, her voice quavering and high. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have anyone.”
Marlow opened her eyes, only to see tears tracking down Pixie’s face. “Why?”
“If it was just me,” she said in a rush, “I swear to God I wouldn’t be here.”
