“Aww.” I hear from the hallway.
“Come on in,” I tell my sisters.
“Marsh.” Layla comes to me and gives me a hug, followed immediately by a hug from Sawyer too.
“You’re one of the good ones,” Sawyer tells me.
“Hey!” Royce snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her into his lap.
“I’m just saying.”
“Anyway,” I start again. “I insisted on paying and told her to pay it forward. It was only fifty dollars.” I shake my head. “My underwear costs more than her baby’s prescription. When the lady handed me back my change, I slipped the fifty and two more hundreds into the bag before handing it to her.” I point to the white envelope that’s still lying on the corner of my desk. “She brought it back to me. Said she can’t accept it.”
“How did she know where to find you?” Owen asks.
“I gave her my name. Apparently, when she told her best friend, she’s heard of our family, much like everyone else in this town, and that led her here today.”
“So the baby?” Grant asks.
I knew this was coming, which is why I throw my head back in laughter. “She’s not mine,” I tell them once my laughter is under control. “Cute as hell, but not mine.”
“She seems nice,” Layla comments.
“Yeah, she’s on hard times. After she left the pharmacy, the woman checking me out said that her husband used to work there. She’s not wearing a wedding ring, so I’m assuming they split. Said it wasn’t her story to tell, so that’s all the intel she was willing to give me.”
“That’s so sad,” Sawyer whispers.
“It is. And I hate it because I can help, you know?” All six of them nod their agreement. “Anyway, she insisted on not taking the money.” Again, I point to the envelope on my desk. “So, that’s it. I did what I could. At least I know I tried to help her.”
“You did help her,” Layla speaks up. “Trust me. That money for the medication was just as hard for her to accept. If it had not been for her daughter, she wouldn’t have accepted that either.”
Layla knows tough times. She had a rough childhood, and into adulthood wasn’t much better. My brother fell in love with her hard and fast, and now she’s one of us. That doesn’t mean that any of us forgets her struggles in life before she came into our lives.
“Yeah,” I agree. “She’s stubborn.”
“Not stubborn,” Layla corrects me. “She’s proud. She’s… I’m sure, busting her ass to work and be a mom, and handouts are hard to take. No matter how desperately you need them.”
“Like shoes,” Owen whispers, kissing her temple.
“Anyway, that’s it. The baby’s not mine, and I’ll probably never see them again.”
“Well, damn,” Conrad speaks up. “I was hoping for something juicier than that. Not to mention, Mom would have flipped to have a granddaughter with all the boys.” He grins.
“It’s the Riggins’ genes,” Grant chimes in. “We’re studly like that.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s laughing at his own remark. That’s okay, though, because the rest of us are laughing too. Four Riggins grandchildren, all boys. Mom and Dad had the five of us, all boys, so he’s not wrong. Mom would flip. She’s over the moon to have four new daughters-in-law. Well, three and one soon-to-be daughter-in-law, if we are getting technical. The Riggins ladies are still outnumbered.
“Well, that was anti-climatic. I guess we should get back to work.” Royce taps Sawyer on the leg so that they can both stand. I watch as the six of them leave my office. We’re one big nosey family, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter 4
Wren
“Two more blocks, Maddie. Can you hold on for Mommy?” I ask my daughter as I quicken my pace. I had some errands to run today and Maddie has been an angel, but she’s at her wit's end. I thought she would make it until we got home to eat, but my daughter isn’t a happy camper.
I have two choices. I can stop somewhere and feed her, or I can let her scream until we get home. My heart can’t handle the screaming, so stopping it is.
The only issue with stopping is that I can’t really go to a café or restaurant and not buy anything, so I need to find a place outside. Up ahead, I see what looks like a bakery that is closed. There’s a park bench with flowers out front and an awning to provide us with a little shade. “This will have to do,” I tell Madeline. Not that she’s listening. She’s pissed and hungry, and her cries are growing louder by the second.
Luckily, I pumped, so I’m not whipping my breast out in public. Don’t get me wrong, I would, but luckily, I don’t have to. Madeline isn’t picky. She takes a bottle with ease, which is a good thing since she’s in day care. A very expensive day care, but I only want what’s best for her. It takes the majority of our money each month, but it’s worth it for my peace of mind while I’m at work.
“Warm Delights,” I say the name of the bakery out loud. “Closed due to fire.” I hate that for the owners. I couldn’t imagine putting all of your hard work and money into a business only to have it brought down by a fire. I’m sure they had insurance. At least I hope they did. Just the thought of the loss causes a ping of sadness to grip my heart. Loss is loss any way you look at it.
“I’m working on it,” I tell my daughter as she wails even louder. I quickly pull a bottle from the diaper bag and set it on the bench next to me before unstrapping her from her seat. I think it’s time I start using the stroller. It’s a pain because my apartment is on the third floor, and we don’t have an elevator, so just taking the seat is easier. However, as she gets older, she’s getting too heavy for me to pack both all over the city.
“There you go,” I say, placing the bottle in her mouth. Like I knew she would, she latches on easily and drinks greedily.
“How old is she?” a female voice asks, startling me. “Sorry.” She smiles kindly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Five months,” I tell her, my pulse slowing when I take in the woman’s friendly smile.
“I have a nephew who just turned five months,” she says.
“She’s becoming more interactive, getting to that fun age. At least that’s what I’m told.” I laugh. “That’s what the books I’ve read say.”
“I have a nephew who’s one-and-a-half, and he’s a ball of fun, so I can see that,” she says.
Her nephews are the same ages as Marshall’s. Yes, a week later, I’m still thinking about the man. His kindness is not something you see much of these days. It helps that he’s easy on the eyes. I might be a widowed mother to an infant, but I’m still a woman. There isn’t a woman, hell, maybe not even a man who would disagree that Marshall Riggins and his brothers are definite eye candy.
“I’m Aspen,” the woman introduces herself.
“I’m Wren, and this is Madeline.” Something flashes in her eyes, but she quickly masks it.