Page 91 of Accidental Mile High Vows

“They’re fine.”

“They’re not.” She picks up her purse. “We’re going to the doctor. No arguments.”

I almost smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

In the car on the way to the clinic, she doesn’t let go of my hand. She holds it carefully in her lap, occasionally running her thumb over my uninjured knuckles.

“Does this happen a lot?” she asks. “Having to handle things personally?”

“Not as much as it used to. Silas usually takes care of problems before they get to me.”

“But sometimes you need to send a message.”

“Yes.”

“And tonight was one of those times.”

“Yes.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Will he live?”

“Probably. Depends on how fast they get him to a hospital.”

“But you don’t care either way.”

“No,” I admit. “I don’t.”

She nods and goes back to holding my hand.

27

SAVANNAH

“Try this one.”Alexi holds up a dress that’s definitely not maternity wear.

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not going to fit.”

“Sure it will. It’s stretchy.”

“Alexi, I’m twenty weeks pregnant. That dress is made for someone who isn’t growing a human.”

He grins and tosses it back on the rack. “Fine. But you have to admit, the color would look good on you.”

We’re in the Upper East Side, at a place Alexi insisted was the best place for maternity clothes in New York despite Marie suggesting SoHo. I’m starting to think he just wanted an excuse to hang out.

Ledger had business this morning—something about permits and city officials—so Alexi volunteered to take me shopping. At first, I thought it would be awkward. Spending hours alone with my husband’s son, who’s only three years younger than me.

But it’s not awkward. It’s easy.

“My mom used to drag me shopping all the time,” Alexi says, flipping through another rack. “She’d make me sit outside dressing rooms for hours while she tried on everything in the store.”

“Did she actually buy anything?”

“Rarely.” He smiles, but there’s sadness in it. “She just liked having company. Dad was always working, so it was usually just us.”

I pick up a black dress with an empire waist. “What was she like?”

“Smart. Funny. She had this laugh that could fill a whole room.” He pauses. “She died when I was pretty young.”