Page 53 of The Guest Cottage
Until she saw him. “Cort!” She gave him a brilliant smile and leaned into him. “I didn’t see you come in.”
Ignoring the young men, he asked, “Busy night?”
“Every Saturday is like this.”
“True enough.” But he was still getting used to Marlow being a part of the Saturday crowd. He took the tray from her, holding it one-handed, nodded at the gawking guys who’d all clammed up, and led her in the direction of the kitchen. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Barely.” She tucked her order pad into her apron pocket. Along the way she accepted a tip from an older couple they passed, thanking them with a smile, and grabbed three more glasses off an empty table. “I’ll be glad to call it a night.” The second they reached the kitchen, she asked, “How’s Pixie?”
Before he answered, he took the extra glasses from her, set them and the tray by the massive utility sink to be washed, and leaned in to brush his mouth over hers.
Man, he’d been missing her mouth. She’d quickly become an addiction for him—the scent of her skin, the softness of her hair, the taste of her lips.
In a little possessive show of her own, she slid her hands to his neck and deepened the kiss, then eased up and rested her cheek on his chest.
Nice. He could get used to greetings like that. “She’s okay. Settled in and resting.” He sensed that it was more emotional exhaustion than physical that wore on Marlow tonight. She was a dynamo with endless energy, but her emotions had been through a chaotic cyclone.
“I feel terrible abandoning her, and it annoys me that I do.”
Loving her honesty, Cort wrapped her up close and offered reassurance. “Both of those feelings are understandable and acceptable. You know that, right?”
“Maybe.”
Lifting a hand to her face and cradling her cheek, he looked into her eyes and knew he’d do damn near anything for her. How that had happened so fast, he couldn’t say, except that he was a natural protector, and Marlow was an exceptional woman.
He wanted to make sure she knew it, too. “Life doesn’t play fair. It wasn’t fair to my mom, it hasn’t been fair to you, or fair to Pixie.” Touching her made him want to kiss her, so he did, but he kept the contact to a soft press of his mouth to her forehead. “I wish Mom had had someone like you.”
“She had you, a big, badass Marine, instead.”
“Not until I was older. When I was little . . .” There were so many times he wished he could go back in time and face his father as the man he was now, instead of the scared boy he’d been. “We’d have been better off alone like Pixie than with my dad around.”
She gave him a sad smile and another tight hug. “The thing about life is that it has a mean way of reminding us how good we have it. You had your mom, and she had you. Your memories of her are a gift, and she was so proud of you.”
“True. Some people are completely alone in the world.” He’d thought of that many times. He’d lost his mother but gained a town.
Now Marlow was here, and through a campaign of her own making, she was quickly becoming an insider.
When she looked up at him, he saw that her hair was a little sweaty near her temples, and her mascara was smudged near the corner of her left eye.
No woman had ever looked better to him.
She said, “I came here to Bramble, determined to downsize my life. Less stress, less obligation and wealth, and definitely less pretense. I was so tired of living up to other people’s standards. This was going to be my time.” She sighed heavily. “It’s easy to live in a bubble of our own complaints. In Illinois, I felt like I was living such a sorry tale.”
“You’ve been through a lot.” He already knew where she was going with this, but she had a right to her feelings. Few would have recovered as gracefully as she had, and with a huge heart still intact.
She nodded. “But then I see Pixie. My God, Cort, she was onlynineteenwhen she was going through all that alone. The poor girl turned twenty and at the same time got the biggest, scariest, most precious burden life offers. Facing the world without a job or family is scary enough, but with a tiny baby to care for?” Her dark eyes held a wealth of empathy. “And she’s still so sick.”
It had stunned them both when the doctor said that Pixie’s blood pressure was still far too high, that she should have been on meds and possibly bed rest, and that she currently had bronchitis. Marlow had wanted to stay with her, but at the same time, Cort could see that Pixie needed some space.
So he’d offered.
“For tonight, she’s fine, I promise. I made sure she ate, and she has meds for the coughing and her antibiotics. I put diapers and wipes for the baby on a dresser. Plus, I stocked up on some easy food for her.”
With a tired smile, Marlow asked, “Frozen dinners?”
“And canned soup, cheese and crackers, snacks, lunch meat for sandwiches, and plenty of juice. Oh, and skim milk and tomato juice, like the doctor suggested.”
“I swear, you’re an angel who’s landed on earth. Thank you for doing all that.”
