But there was only one person she needed to tell. She wasn’t brave enough.
So she sniffed back the tears clogging her throat. Tried to smile. “You hate what he did, but you don’t hate him, huh? Looks like, other than Bree, you’re the only Montesano who doesn’t.”
“Oh, I think we both know there’s one more Montesano who doesn’t hate him,” Rose whispered. “No matter how much you want to.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MADDIE OPENED HER kitchen door. And almost slammed it shut again.
Which Neil must have sensed because, just like the last time he stood there, he braced the door open with his foot. “Please,” he said, “I’m begging you. Let us in.”
Well, he did look a little...disheveled. And wild-eyed. “Actually,” she said, “I’m having second thoughts about this—”
“Mom,” Bree said with an impressive eye roll. “Let us in.”
Maddie stepped aside while they entered—Neil carrying a sleeping Mitchell in one arm, the diaper bag and a backpack in the other, Bree and Elijah holding hands, looking as if they’d survived a war.
Maddie knelt and tapped Elijah’s purple mustache. “Grape juice?”
“Popsicle,” he said, giving her a sleepy grin.
Pressing her lips together, she straightened. “Your sister so owes me,” she told Neil darkly.
Fay had called her not forty-five minutes ago and asked if Maddie could keep the boys overnight.
“She knows.” He set the bags on the table and lifted Mitchell higher. The baby stirred, raised his head for a second then put it back on Neil’s shoulder. “She says you can have anything you want. Including her firstborn.”
“Funny but she never offers him up when he’s clean and smells good and is cuddly—”
“Does a time like that even exist?” Neil murmured.
“I only get him when he’s been rolling in the mud—literally, from the looks of it,” she added, taking in the streaks of dirt on his bare legs, the grass stain on his shorts. “And has—” Frowning, she peered at Elijah’s head. “Is that melted marshmallows in his hair?”
Bree nodded and helped Elijah peel off his sweatshirt. “And chocolate. Papa Carl let him make his own s’more.”
“My marshmallow burneded, Aunt Maddie,” Elijah said. “So I threw it into the fire and it got big and exploded!”
She flinched at his loud tone. Mitchell, God bless him, kept right on sleeping. “That must’ve been very exciting,” she whispered, hoping Elijah would follow suit. “But it’s late and you and Bree need to get ready for bed.”
Elijah yawned so widely, Maddie was surprised his jaw didn’t crack. “I’m not tired.”
“I can see that,” she said. “Unfortunately, it’s after ten and what’s the rule when you spend the night at mean old Aunt Maddie’s house?”
“No staying up late.”
She flicked his nose. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.” He giggled and leaned into her, his body warm, his hair sticky. “Let’s get you into the tub before you fall asleep standing up. Honey?” she asked Bree. “Can you take him into the bathroom and help him get undressed? I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Okay.” Bree took Elijah’s hand again then faced Neil. “Thank you for the ride home.”
“You’re welcome,” he told her just as solemnly. “Good night.”
“’Bye.”
“Can’t you just douse the kid with the hose?” he asked Maddie when they were alone. “It’d save you a lot of trouble.”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “What’s life without a little trouble?”
“Peaceful.”
He said it so sincerely, so seriously, she couldn’t help but ask, “Is that what you want? A peaceful life?”
Was that why he hadn’t wanted Bree? He hadn’t wanted the ups and downs that came with parenting. Emotional highs and lows, the loss of sleep and privacy. The worry and stress.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?” he asked.
“I have no idea. I only know what I want.” She picked up Elijah’s sweatshirt, wrinkled her nose at the smell. Looked as though she’d be doing a load of laundry tonight. “While peace ranks up there with good wine and expensive chocolate, if that’s all you had, it’d get boring pretty quickly.”
“You always did like the excitement and drama of chaos and confusion,” he said. “Of a good cry. Or a good argument.”
She inclined her head in agreement. “And you always hated it. You didn’t get sad, happy or angry. No emotional ups and downs for the great Neil Pettit. Must be nice, not having to deal with something as irritating and messy as all those pesky human feelings.”
When they’d been together, he’d never argued with her, even when she did her best to piss him off. She’d tried, so hard, to get