to Vermont for a visit and decided to stay for a bit. Then she stuck permanently when she found herself pregnant from a one-night stand with her hunky cowboy, now husband, Bull. The Eaton clan is one fine man after another, but Bull’s younger brothers are just trouble waiting to happen.
The newest Eaton addition, however—baby Harley—he’s a heartbreaker like the rest of them with his drooling kisses and sweet giggles.
“Aunt Rita has missed you. Yes, she has,” I simper to the babe in my lap while Scarlett chuckles beside me. We’ve taken up residence on our favorite couch sans Jake.
“He’s not a dog,” she teases at the tone I’ve taken to speak to the five-month-old.
“But he’s as cute as a puppy, and he has eyes just like one, too. He’s looking at me like ‘give me everything I ask for, Aunt Rita,’ and he knows I’ll never say no to him.”
Scarlett laughs at my ridiculousness. As college roommates, we immediately hit it off upon arriving at Boston University, but our lives took us in separate directions once we graduated. I’d intended to remain in Boston for law school. I was going to fight against true crimes and defend complex cases. Instead, my dad had his first heart attack, and I came home to join Kaplan and Associates. I was the associate. I worked days as a legal assistant while attending law school at Vermont Law. Once I was a full-fledged attorney, we remained Kaplan and Associates although my father became a judge. For some reason, Dad never promoted me to partner.
“So, what’s new?” Scarlett asks, staring at me over the rim of her coffee mug.
“Ugh. Jake Drummond is what’s new.” I groan while I wiggle Harley on my lap.
“Jake Drummond,” Scarlett elongates his name. “Interesting. I didn’t know you’d found a stud.”
Scarlett was an entertainment news reporter in her life before motherhood, and despite her gossip-loving days being over, she still loves a good story.
“How do you know he’s a stud?” I wonder, sticking out my tongue at Harley and making faces at him.
“He must be a stud,” Scarlett confidently states.
I laugh, giving away my opinion.
“No man would have you riled if he wasn’t.”
“All men have me riled. I’m sexually repressed,” I mock myself. I might have a pink plastic boyfriend named Bobby, but it’s not the same as physical sex. And I can’t have nameless, faceless sex. I’ve already gone that route and crashed. I don’t like to recall that moment—and have trouble doing so as I blacked out during it—but I must never forget it as a pinnacle point in deciding to get my shit back together.
“So, he’s hot?” Scarlett questions.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“Rita Kaplan, for all the shi-shitake . . .” She pauses to glance at the baby, catching herself on the curse word. “. . . you give me about my husband, and you can’t give me more than he’s hot?”
I laugh. “Well, your husband is hunky and handsome. I live through the details of your life because mine is so boring.” My gaze remains on little Harley in my hands. I’ve missed out on many things. Most days, I don’t dwell on the loss. No sense living in the past, my dad would say, but my future feels uncertain. I’m going to be forty-five in a few years, and if I live double that, what will I plan to accomplish with the remainder of my life? As I hold Harley, a zigzag of regret travels through my chest. I think I’ve missed out on something big by never having a child, but that ship sailed when I lost Ian. There just hasn’t been another man for me since his passing.
“Your life isn’t boring. You’re a successful lawyer with your own practice, and you dedicate your extra time and talents to Building Buddies. Plus, you’re an advocate for AA and supportive of that community.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, noting those are achievements, but many of them are service to others. What have I done for only me? What do I have that’s only mine?
“Tell me more about this stud,” Scarlett softly demands, sounding like she’s ready to break into her rendition of the Grease classic “You’re the One That I Want.”
As I speak, I focus on Harley. “He’s part of our restorative program at Building Buddies. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, but I just am. There’s something about him.” His scruffy jaw. His heated eyes. His rough hands on my skin. My chest clenches like I’m being pulled