head of blond wisps, captivating blue eyes, and a sweet little mouth, she looked exactly like the photo of his mom as an infant
The album was empty after a few pages of recent pictures from Christmas and New Year’s. There was a cute group shot of Summer and Arianne with Captain Reed Warren. They were posing with Santa hats on in front of a sign for the National Training Center at Fort Irwin.
The connections, synchronicity, and overlapping of their lives continued to amaze him. It wasn’t just Tintagel and a sick love of junk food munchies. He’d been to the NTC many times. The training they delivered was without compare. The very real possibility he’d crossed paths with her brother at some point blew his mind.
He paged back to a series of photos showing Arianne in a pretty cream-colored baby dress. The way she gazed into the camera gave him goose bumps. Taking the picture of his mother from his wallet, he slid it into the page’s binding. It meant something to him for his mom and baby to share the same space.
A loud rumbling came from his stomach. Thanks to intensive training and loads of experience, he could function without sleep, but no food was a different matter.
Leaving the photo album open on the coffee table, he rose and strolled barefoot into the kitchen.
Poking through Summer’s pantry and refrigerator was fun. She had a little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing. Her grocery situation was remarkably similar to the state of affairs in his New York apartment.
On a shelf in the refrigerator, he found a mostly empty tub of Philadelphia cream cheese and four one-pound boxes of unsalted butter. What the hell was she doing with so much butter? The thought of her peeling open a stick of butter and eating it made him wheeze with silent laughter.
Going by a selection of juice in single-serve bottles labeled fresh, raw, and organic, his golden girl was on a healthy kick. He shuddered, “Blech,” at the cold-pressed celery juice.
A small, square, see-through plastic bin held what took him a minute to figure out were breast milk storage bags. His eyes swung to the sink. An interesting piece of equipment with plastic branches atop a drain tray held two small baby bottles and a couple of nipples.
Seeing his baby suckling at Summer’s breasts opened his male eyes. Generally speaking, guys didn’t usually think about the practical side of boobs. He wondered what it was like to surrender one’s body to an all-consuming process lasting far longer and being way scarier than the books admit.
Frankly? He wasn’t sure men had the balls to handle pregnancy, childbirth, or what came after.
In the end, he toasted two brown sugar Pop-Tarts, slathered them with natural peanut butter, and made a warm, gooey sandwich. He washed it down with store-bought chocolate milk.
A page turned when sunrise came. Today was day one of him, Summer, and Arianne as a family. Yes, he’d made a ridiculous number of blunders and a few forced errors, but he’d conducted his adult life by a live-and-learn mindset. To begin, he had a whole lot of careful stepping and more than a little explaining to do. She needed time to process, and he needed time to prove his natural state wasn’t grade A prime dickishness.
Stretching out on the sofa, he programmed his internal clock for a short nap and took several deep breaths. The best thing he could do right now was give his lady some space. He intended to stay right on top of her and the baby while also silently giving her whatever time she needed to find her way in this highly unusual situation.
Waking up startled, Summer scrambled off the bed to peer into Ari’s crib to make sure she was all right. Finding her snoozing peacefully, she shook her head and smirked.
“You picked a fine time to sleep through the night.”
Stretching and yawning, she re-belted her robe and fluffed her messy hair while wondering if she had time to shower before morning mommy duties took over.
Until they all snapped at once, she didn’t realize her emotions were made of tightly stretched rubber bands.
Oh. My. God.
Out loud, she softly wailed, “I slept with Arnie.”
Her conscience finger pointed and shrieked with laughter.
Slept together? Ha! You screwed his brains out, got off big time, and then reacted like an outraged prude. Tramp!
She cringed. “Guilty.”
Her eyes swung to the closed bedroom door. Arnie was on the other side probably still