After a few more hand squeezes and hugs and ‘his losses’ from Bunny, her sister let herself out. Birdy stood alone in the quiet again, the mug warm in her palms, the silence loud with the words she couldn’t say. She wasn’t going to let herself fall again. Not for anyone.
Just as she was about to settle back in her chair, she heard another knock on the door. Where was Trudi? Looked like her first line of defense was taking a long lunch.
The knock came again. It was too light to be anything but a teenager’s. The client. The reason this mattered.
“Come in,” Birdy said gently.
They sat across from each other, the distance between them smaller than before but still edged with silence. Birdy inhaled slowly, then let it out. Beverly did the same, except she held her breath a moment too long.
“If I’m going to help you,” Birdy said, her voice quieter than usual, “I need the truth. About the father. About why you’re really doing this.”
Beverly stared at her hands. Her fingers twisted the zipper pull of her coat. The silence stretched. Birdy softened her voice even more, dropping all pretense of courtroom steel.
“You’re not the only one who thought love was supposed to mean something.”
At that, Beverly’s chin trembled. Her breath hitched once before the tears spilled over. No sound, just tears. Silent and endless.
Birdy didn’t move. She didn’t reach across the desk. Didn’t offer a hug or tissues or a ‘his loss.’ What she did was stayed present. And waited. Because Paul Winters was right about one thing: Birdy didn't have to show up. But she did because she was strong when other people were not. If Birdy couldn't have a hero of her own, she wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop her from being this girl and her baby's savior.
CHAPTERTEN
The baby was asleep again, her little head resting against Paul’s chest, one fist curled up near her chin like she’d passed out mid-argument. Her breath was warm against his collarbone, rhythmic and soft. For the first time that day, the world felt… quiet.
The mayor’s house came into view. It was a modest two-story brick place with a porch swing and warm light glowing behind the curtains. Smoke puffed gently from the chimney. The scent of burning wood hit Paul just as he reached the front steps.
He knocked lightly, mindful of the baby’s sleep. The door opened almost immediately.
“Back already? I figured they'd have you at the bar until late.” Teddy Carter stepped aside and gestured Paul inside.
“The bar was educational,” Paul said as he stepped in. “Small towns know everything about everyone.”
The warmth of the house wrapped around him—cinnamon, fireplace, and something faintly citrusy. Probably Bunny’s doing. She had the vibe of someone who ran both a household and a calendar with color-coded labels.
“She do okay?” the mayor asked, nodding toward the baby.
“She’s good,” Paul said, adjusting the carrier as they moved toward the living room. “Out cold after the car ride. Must be a future road tripper.”
The mayor chuckled and led him toward the playpen in the corner of the room. Paul gently laid the baby inside, tucking the tiny blanket around her as she gave a half-hearted sigh in her sleep.
They both stood for a long moment, watching her.
“What happens next?” Teddy asked.
Paul didn’t answer right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tight.
“I investigate,” he said eventually. “Figure out if the mother’s fit to have her back. If this was abandonment or a desperate mistake.”
The mayor gave him a sidelong glance. “And what if it’s the second?”
Paul crossed his arms. “Then we reunite them. If it’s the first... we don’t.”
“But what’s best for the baby?” the mayor asked quietly.
Paul exhaled, long and tired. “That’s the part I’m trying to figure out.”
He looked down at the sleeping infant, tiny and unaware of the chaos swirling around her.
“Right now,” he added, “the best place for her is here. With you and your girlfriend.”
