Once More Chance (Chance #2; Rosemary Beach #8) (14 page)

I parked my truck outside of the house I wanted to buy for her—for us. It wasn’t as big as what she was used to, but Harlow wasn’t one to expect luxury. She had grown up with
her grandmother in a modest home in North Carolina.

The light blue house was farther out from the water than I wanted—beachfront properties were out of my price range—but it was in a quaint little gated community. The houses
weren’t too close together, but it was still a neighborhood of sorts. A coastal one. I had driven by this house on more than one occasion and admired it. The white fence around it and the
wraparound porch with large hurricane shutters made it look like an old Florida plantation, but it was smaller and only a few years old. The owner had built it and never moved in. It had been on
the market since then. I had always thought it was a shame that no one ever used the swing in the large oak tree in the front yard or enjoyed the rocking chairs on the front porch. It was just
empty.

Rush’s Range Rover pulled up beside me, and I opened my truck door. I had called him after I’d gone to the real estate office that was selling the house and gotten a key. The office
handled a lot of the sales for the condos I built, so they didn’t mind handing over the key.

Rush stepped out, looked up at the house and back at me, and grinned. “I feel like I’m in Mayberry. It even has a fucking tree swing.”

Laughing, I walked through the gate and stepped into the front yard. “Question is, do you think she’ll like it?” I asked him as I took the four steps leading up to the porch
two at a time.

“I think she’ll love it,” Rush said, following me.

I unlocked the door, and we stepped inside. The entryway was small but had high ceilings with exposed beams. A staircase was to the left, and a hallway leading into the living room was straight
ahead. We walked into the living room, which had a large fireplace with a big sturdy mantel as its focal point. The hardwood floors were tongue-and-groove, which only made the older coastal feel of
the house more authentic. There was an arched doorway leading into the kitchen and dining room to the right and then another arched doorway to what looked like a sunroom to the left.

“How many bedrooms?” Rush asked as he looked out to the backyard. It was fenced in and had plenty of space for a swing set and maybe a pool when the baby was older.

“Agent said it was a four-bedroom. All upstairs.”

“Might want to check those out. They could make or break the place.”

I nodded, and we headed upstairs. The board-and-batten walls were a nice touch; I knew they cost a little more than basic Sheetrock. The room directly to the right was a guest bedroom. It
wasn’t that big, but it had a walk-in closet and a small private bathroom. We walked to the next room, which was larger, with an even bigger walk-in closet. It was joined by a connecting
bathroom to another room identical to it. Then to the far right was the master bedroom. It had its own fireplace and a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. The place was nicer than I expected. I hoped
they’d take my offer and come down on the asking price a little.

“I think it’s perfect,” Rush said as we walked through the attic space.

“Me, too.”

“Guess it’s time you called and made an offer.”

I couldn’t wait to show Harlow. To enjoy watching her decorate the place. We could make a lifetime of memories here. I wanted a lifetime of memories with her. This was the perfect
setting.

G
rant was anxious. I had never seen him like this. He kept watching me nervously and smiling like he had something big he wanted to tell me. It was
completely odd behavior for him.

It was distracting me that I wasn’t the one acting like a nervous ninny this time. When we had listened to the baby’s heartbeat the first time, I barely had been able to contain
myself that day before the appointment. But this day, the day we finally got to see our baby and find out if it was a boy or a girl, it was Grant who couldn’t sit still.

I had gone through an ultrasound before, but it wasn’t one like this one. The first one had been very basic, so they could see the baby and hear the heartbeat internally. This time, it
would be a 3-D machine that would allow us to actually see the baby’s facial features. The nurse walked into the small room where we were waiting, followed by the doctor.

“You two ready?” he asked with a bright smile on his face.

“Yes,” I replied, but Grant didn’t say anything. He seemed tense. I reached up and rubbed his arm to try to ease his strained expression. This wasn’t going to hurt me or
the baby.

“Good, let’s see if we can find out what we’re having here,” the doctor said as he sat down on a stool. “Normally, the nurse does this, but I want to check some
things while you’re here. I brought her along in case I forget something,” he explained.

I turned my attention back to Grant, whose complete focus was on the currently blank screen.

“You OK?” I asked. He dropped his gaze to mine.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?” he asked, suddenly realizing he hadn’t checked on me in the past few minutes while we were waiting. He was more than overprotective. Since my
belly had started to show, he had gotten a little crazy with the hovering thing.

The doctor moved the device over my stomach and nodded his head toward the screen. “Here we go,” he said as an image of our baby began to appear.

Grant’s hand gripped mine tighter as the screen very clearly showed two little feet stuck up in the air.

I couldn’t form words as the doctor chuckled. “Well, that was easy to spot. She’s making it very easy.”

She
.

That one word was more powerful than I could have imagined.

She
.

I sniffled and blinked rapidly, trying hard to clear my vision so I could see her.

“Look there, she’s found her fingers, and she likes them. You may have a thumb sucker,” the doctor said as he showed us our little girl sucking three fingers into her
mouth.

I was unable to keep the part-laughter, part-sob from escaping.

“And it looks like she has all her fingers and toes. Her heartbeat still sounds really strong,” the doctor assured us. I hadn’t even noticed the sound—I was so taken in
by just watching her—but it was there in its perfect, pumping little rhythm.

“Did you feel that?” the doctor asked me.

I didn’t want to look away from the screen. “What?” I asked.

“A strong fluttering feeling . . .
there
. Did you feel it?”

I had felt it. I had been feeling it for the past couple of weeks. I had thought it was bad gas.

“Yes,” I said, watching as she kicked seconds after I felt the fluttering feeling.

“The 3-D isn’t real time. It’s delayed. So you’re seeing her kick a few seconds after she does it,” the doctor explained.

“When can I feel it?” Grant asked, speaking up for the first time. I tore my eyes from our daughter to see him watching the screen in complete fascination.

“Give it a couple weeks, and you’ll feel it,” the doctor assured Grant.

For the next fifteen minutes, we sat there watching our little girl wiggle and go from sucking her fingers to her thumb. She also liked to stick her foot up to touch her head. She was
perfect.

And I had thought I couldn’t love her more. How very wrong I was.

Grant passed the turn-off for home, and I glanced over at him. We had sat in awed silence for most of the drive. Every once in a while, one of us would ask if the other had
seen her do something, and then we would fall silent again. I couldn’t wait to write to her about this moment, because this time, I knew she was a she.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said when he caught me staring at him.

“Um, OK,” I replied, not sure what it could be that required him to drive to the outer town limits of Rosemary Beach. Maybe we were going to the club. I really hoped not. I just
wanted to go home and think about our little girl.

Grant didn’t turn toward the club but instead pulled into a gated community that I had always noticed from afar but had never been inside. The houses were all beautiful coastal places that
I assumed were mostly owned by out-of-towners who came for vacation or rented them out.

Grant touched a card to the black box, and the gate slowly opened. I wondered if he was building something here, although it didn’t look like any new developments were happening, nor did
Grant normally deal in single-residence houses.

We rounded a circle on the road paved with split brick, which I thought was really cool. Then he pulled into a driveway in front of a blue house that looked like it belonged on the front cover
of
Coastal Living
magazine.

Were we visiting someone?

“What do you think?” he asked. The nervousness from earlier in the day was back in his voice.

What did I think? “About the house?” I asked.

He nodded.

I didn’t have to look at it again to know I thought it was an ideal house for a family . . . but wait. Surely not. I fought back excitement at the idea that Grant was considering buying
this house for us, and I reminded myself that we were perfectly happy in his condo. We didn’t need a house, even if it was as absolutely perfect as this one.

“I think it’s a beautiful place,” I said carefully. I didn’t want him to think I’d gotten my hopes up. It would upset him if he thought I wasn’t happy where
we were, and I didn’t want him to be any more stressed.

“You do?” he asked, still studying my every expression.

I nodded.

He opened his truck door and got out. “Let’s go inside,” he said, before closing his door and walking around to help me as I stepped down on my side.

We were going inside? Did that mean he wanted me to see the inside, or were there people in there? I wanted to get excited, but I was afraid to. I wasn’t sure why we were here.

Grant produced a key and opened the door. It swung wide, and he motioned for me to step inside. I walked in slowly. The first thing I noticed was that it was completely empty. The second thing I
noticed was that it was breathtaking. The vaulted ceilings and attention to detail were fantastic.

“Come with me,” he said, taking my hand as we headed directly for the stairs. Upstairs, we walked through a large open space that could be a sitting area or even a game room. Then
Grant opened one of the doors, and we walked into a large bedroom with pale pink walls and a chandelier. From the windows, you could see the Gulf across the street and the backyard, which was not
only a nice big space but also fenced in.

I turned around to see Grant running a hand through his hair nervously and watching me.

“It’s a great room. But I don’t understand,” I said, needing some clarification, even though my excitement was quickly growing.

He glanced down at my stomach, then back up at me. “Would you want this to be her room?”

Her room.

Meaning we would live here.

The waterworks were threatening to take over, and I blinked back tears and sucked in a breath to keep from sobbing on him.

“Is it for sale?” I asked, realizing that I hadn’t seen a for-sale sign in the yard.

“No,” he replied, and my heart sank. “Not anymore.” He held up the keys he’d used to get in. “It’s already ours.”

It took me all of two seconds to fling myself into his arms before I burst into tears.

W
e didn’t go back to the apartment that night. I called Rush to help me move the bed over, and we stayed the night in our new house. Harlow
was too giddy to leave, and I was too damn happy watching her. I had been afraid she would be overwhelmed or maybe not like it.

But I had worried for nothing.

I felt like the king of the fucking world.

The next week, I had movers come to the condo and help us pack up, because I didn’t want Harlow bending and lifting anything. We slowly moved our things in and got settled into our new
home. And that was what it was. I had a home now. A real one. For the first time in my life, I had a real home. A real family. My family.

The weekly doctor visits kept me hopeful, and the fear slowly started to fade. Harlow believed, without a doubt, that she would make it through this, and she was already thinking about the swing
set we would pick out for Lila Kate.

We had spent an entire week sitting up searching for baby names on the Internet before we agreed on one. Even if I hadn’t liked the name Lila Kate at the time, I would have learned to love
it after hearing Harlow say it when she spoke to her now-round stomach. It still wasn’t very big, but you could definitely tell she was pregnant.

I had expected her to worry over looking fat or to be self-conscious, but she never did, and she never was. She would stand in front of the mirror and look at herself, then smile up at me like
this was the best thing in the world. She was going to be a wonderful mother.