His One And Only Bride. Tara Randel

Hooking her purse strap over her shoulder, she forced herself to walk around the side of the house to the screened-in porch. Sprawled out in a lounge chair, Mitch was watching boats coming in and out of the marina.

      She approached softly, so as not to surprise him, but he’d already half risen from the chair.

      “Don’t get up,” she rushed to say.

      He sank down quickly. “Thanks. My leg gave up working for the day. All the traveling has finally caught up with me.”

      The lines on his face showed his exhaustion. His stiff shoulders suggested he hid a lot of pain. “Sure you’re up to this?”

      “I’ve spent a lot of time with only my thoughts for company, so yeah, whatever you have to say, I’m up to it.”

      She dragged a chair closer to his.

      “My mom was overjoyed to hear you’re alive.”

      “Not upset I didn’t call?”

      She frowned. “Upset with you? When did you ever do anything to make her angry with you?”

      Her bitter comment ushered a silence over them. In the distance, the clanging of a buoy rang in the dusk and the chugging of an idling boat engine sputtered nearby. The scent of diesel gas made her nose wrinkle. The temperate evening seemed to close in on her.

      “Let’s cut to the chase, Zoe. Clearly, you have something to tell me and I can guess what it is. You’re seeing that guy from the wedding and you want me to sign divorce papers.”

      “What? No.”

      Trying to come up with the right words escaped her. She dropped her purse on her lap and took out the framed photo. Held it to her chest against the tight band threatening to cut off her breathing.

      Mitch pushed up straight against the chair back. “Zoe?”

      “I tried to find you, I really did, but it was like you’d fallen off of the face of the earth.”

      He frowned. “And I already explained that was my doing.”

      “Yes, but I want you to know I tried.”

      Leaning forward, Mitch stared her straight in the eye. “Tell me.”

      She swallowed, pulled the frame from her chest and stared down at her son’s precious face. Met Mitch’s gaze again.

      “We have a son. His name is Leo.”

       Chapter Three

      OF ALL THE things Zoe could have surprised him with, news of a son shocked Mitch to his core. Especially after all the trouble they’d had trying to conceive.

      Fingers shaky, he put all his willpower into calming them before hesitantly taking the frame she offered, unsure why he was afraid to look down.

      “We tried for years,” he said, mostly to himself, attempting to make sense of her news.

      She shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I only know we have a child.”

      He angled the frame so he could see the picture. A boy, his eyes bright, mouth curved in a toothless smile. He had a child? His breath lodged in his throat as the reality looked back at him.

      “This was taken a few months ago. He’s gotten some teeth in since then.”

      Mitch marveled at the pride in Zoe’s voice. Yes, she’d pushed long and hard to have a child. Thought a baby would fix the problems between them when the reality of each miscarriage only made things worse.

      “Why didn’t you tell me at the hotel?”

      An expression that looked suspiciously like guilt flashed over her face. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

      “To the news of my own child?”

      “You weren’t exactly on board with the whole baby idea.”

      True, he hadn’t been at first but with each disappointment, the distance between them had continued to grow and deepen.

      He studied the image again, using his professional eye. Definitely taken in a studio; he could tell by the backdrop. Good lighting. Nice angle. Clear contrast. Professional.

      His son.

      The reality had him spinning. He handed the frame back to her.

      “Why didn’t you bring Leo here in person?”

      “He was sleeping. The nights have been a bit rough since he’s cutting teeth. I didn’t want to disturb him.”

      News of a son had never crossed his mind, but now that he knew, he wanted to meet him in person right away. “Then you should take me to see him now.”

      He started to rise, clumsily swinging his leg over the lounge chair, groping for his cane and coming up empty. As he stood, teetering to one side, Zoe scrambled to help him by slipping her arm around his waist to hold him upright.

      He met her gaze, pity shining in the sapphire blue depths. Her fragrance surrounded him, just as her arms did. This close, he yearned to lean on her. Absorb her strength. Instead, he pushed away, forcing every fiber of his being to remain upright.

      “I don’t need your help.”

      She blinked, then quickly looked away. Spying his cane on the floor, she retrieved it.

      He snatched it from her, angry because her look made him feel like half a man. He didn’t want her sympathy. He’d be better soon. Return to the man he once was.

      The pounding in his head called him a liar.

      “Mitch?”

      Slowing his breathing, it took a few prolonged seconds to answer. “I’m fine.”

      “My car is out in the driveway.”

      Gathering up her purse and the picture frame, Zoe moved ahead of him as he hobbled along, holding the screen door open for him. Night had fallen since they’d been discussing his son. He made sure to concentrate where he walked to keep from falling flat on his face in front of her.

      Before getting in the car, the overhead streetlight revealed a car seat in the back. A stuffed animal lay beside it. Reality hit him a little harder in the gut.

      “Are you okay?” Zoe asked from behind him. “Do you need help getting in?”

      Mitch ignored the question and slowly ducked inside. Zoe closed the door for him, making him realize how her news, compounded by his injury, threw him more off balance than usual. He thought the accident was the only event to upend his life. How wrong.

      As Zoe drove through Cypress Pointe, Mitch noticed Main Street hadn’t changed much. Some of the gift stores were closed for the night, but the local restaurants were hopping with customers. The wind flowing in from the window he’d cracked open carried the scent of burgers, making his stomach nauseous. After settling in at Wyatt’s place, he hadn’t had much of an appetite. Sometimes the headaches were so skull-crushing he couldn’t eat until the pain eased. Tonight was one of those episodes.

      The sights grew more familiar the closer she drove to their neighborhood. When she passed by their street, a sense of confusion enveloped him. He closed his eyes, tried to visualize the location of their house. Finally, he connected the dots. “You missed the turn.”

      She looked at him quickly, then back at the road. “No. I live at my mother’s house.”

      He frowned, an action that brought on another round of pounding in his skull. The doctors had told him stress would aggravate his symptoms. He hadn’t believed them until now.

      “Since when?”

      “After I found out I was pregnant. I had a few...difficult months. I sold the house and moved in with her.”

      “You