Page 5 of Single Mom’s Undoing (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems #1)

Jodie is the only person in the entire town who knows who Matty’s father is.

I’ve yet to tell her the truth about what happened that night with my brother, though, for her own safety.

There are moments when I still manage to convince myself that I might get through it all without ever having to tell the truth.

But then my conscience returns with enough guilt to make me want to puke.

“I’ll figure it out,” I reply. “I’ll figure out a way to tell Carter about Matty, about the night I left, about everything.”

“I’d love to hear that story, too, when you’re ready.”

“Honestly, I hope I never have to tell it. But life has a funny way of constantly proving me wrong so…” I exhale sharply and give Jodie a quick hug. “Thanks for doing this. It’s almost Matty’s bedtime, but you can let him stay up a little bit later, if you want. I won’t be gone long.”

“Where are you going, exactly?”

“There’s something I need to do for my own peace of mind. There’s a place I need to revisit, to think.”

“We’ll be here,” Jodie says.

A half hour later, I’m standing outside Mondy’s Diner.

It’s dark out, a starry sky unraveling above the mountains that rise like giant shadows around the valley of Blackthorn Falls.

The diner itself hasn’t changed much in the past five years.

The parking lot is the same—I’m pretty sure the two cars at the far end were here the last time I came in.

There’s a new neon sign mounted above the front door, but everything else is giving me plenty of nostalgic vibes .

“You used to bring me here once a week,” I say aloud, as if my brother is still here.

He’s always been with me, a quiet thought in my head, a bittersweet memory I dare not let go of. Whenever I miss him, I find that talking to him soothes that need, if only slightly.

“Double cheeseburger and fries. And a piece of pecan pie. You’d order extra dill pickles for your patty. I always asked for vanilla ice cream on top of my pie. It was our ritual, wasn’t it?”

In my mind, the events of that night replay parallel to the present. I park my car precisely where I did then. I get out slowly and walk across the parking lot.

“Hey, there,” the only waitress working the evening shift says by way of a greeting. “I’m Dina. Welcome to Mondy’s.” Surprisingly, she’s not someone I know. It’s a bit of a relief.

“Hi, Dina,” I reply.

“Make yourself comfortable. Coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.”

The booths are the same worn, dark red leather. I take a seat at the exact table where I last saw him—by the window facing the parking lot. The occasional car whizzes by on the road, a flicker of headlights disappearing into the night.

Toward the bridge.

Dina comes over with a plastic menu and a mug. She pours freshly brewed coffee from a large glass pot. It smells nice.

“New in town?” she asks .

I look up. She’s in her late teens. Probably working the late shift while going to school during the day. She must’ve been just a kid the night it happened.

“Sort of,” I lie. “What’s left in the kitchen tonight?”

“French fries and other stuff we can just throw into the fryer. Our chef is gone for the night but Perry, our sous-chef, has another hour on the clock.”

“Can I have the fries then, with a dip on the side?”

“Sure thing. Garlic mayo or the Greek stuff?”

I can’t help but smile. “You mean tzatziki.”

“I can never pronounce it right,” Dina giggles, “so I don’t risk it.”

“I’ll take the Greek stuff,” I reply still smiling. “And the pecan pie, if there’s any left.”

“We have a couple of slices left from lunch, I’m sure. Do you want?—”

“Vanilla ice cream on top? Yes, ma’am. One generous scoop.”

“Coming right up,” Dina says, jotting my order down as she heads back behind the counter, then disappears into the kitchen.

I look around.

Not much to see. Two truck drivers hang out at the end of the counter, trading stories while sipping coffee. A middle-aged couple sits in a booth across the room, working their way through a couple slices of pie, talking and occasionally smiling at each other.

It’s nice and quiet. The way it was that night .

Shifting my gaze back outside, I take a deep breath.

“We’d been arguing all day,” I mutter, wishing he could hear me. “I asked you to meet me here at nine. I wanted to talk to you, to talk some sense into you.”

I showed up , my brother replies in my head.

I shake my head slowly. “You saw me. As soon as you pulled up, you saw me waiting right here. And then you looked down. A minute later, you kicked your car in reverse and backed out. Headed for the bridge. Why, Steph?”

Maybe I changed my mind .

“We both know that’s not what happened. You got a text,” I whisper. “I just wish I knew if she was the one who texted you that night, or if it was?—”

“Clara?” Damon’s voice startles me.

I damn near jump out of my seat, the memory quick to fade as I glance up and see Damon standing next to my booth, holding a sweet little girl in his arms. My heart stops, but my eyes register every detail.

She’s a pretty angel with curly brown hair, wearing a pale blue and orange dress with white stockings and the cutest ballerina shoes. Thumb in her mouth, eyes closed as she rests her head on Damon’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Damon says.

“It’s fine. I was just deep in thought.”

Outside, the vision of my brother’s car is gone. Headed for the Samwell Bridge. The ache in my heart lingers, but I shake it all off and focus on the child in Damon’s arms .

“You’re not the only one with a surprise,” he chuckles softly.

I nod. “I can see that. How, when, I mean….wait. What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Our babysitter had a family emergency, and she didn’t get a chance to handle Shiloh’s dinner, so I figured I’d get off easy tonight with some fries and pie.”

“Shiloh,” I repeat. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

“How old is she?”

“Three. My one attempt at settling down and starting a family. It didn’t end well,” he says, his gaze dropping.

“What happened?”

“Her mother bailed. It sounds more complicated than it actually was, but hey—we’re here, we’re cool, we’re better off.”

My eyebrows pop up in genuine surprise. “Honestly, I did not see this coming.”

“Me either. When Elizabeth told me she was pregnant, I let her decide what she was going to do. It felt like the right thing.”

“It was.”

“Yeah, well, she decided she wanted a family and everything that came with it. I wasn’t really ready nor entirely willing at the time, but I wanted to do right by this little baby,” he says, gently planting a kiss on his daughter’s forehead.

“So, I married Elizabeth. Six months later, Shiloh was born. A year after that, Elizabeth packed her bags and left me a note, telling me she wasn’t cut out for any of it. ”

I motion for him to sit down. “Please, join me. I can’t imagine how that must’ve felt. Honestly, I can’t imagine how a mother could just up and leave her child like that.”

Damon shrugs. “We’ve got a good babysitter, and my mother helps as often as she can.” He pauses as Shiloh comes to and looks around in a sleepy daze. “Hey, there, sport.”

“Daddy?”

“Hey, Shiloh,” I say with a warm smile.

The little girl turns her head, and as soon as our eyes meet, she lights up, her mouth stretching into the sweetest, toothiest grin. “Hiya!” she says, waving a hand. “I’m Shy-Shy!”

“Shy-Shy?” I ask, softly laughing.

“It’s a new thing she’s trying out,” Damon explains.

The way he looks at his daughter melts me on the inside. There’s so much love, so much tenderness in those deep, brown eyes of his. It’s insanely attractive.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Shy-Shy.” She responds with a sparkly smile.

“She likes you,” Damon says, his warm gaze settles on my face.

“Plenty to like,” I joke.

“Couldn’t agree more.” He looks around. “Where’s Matty?”

“I left him at home with Jodie for a bit. Needed a moment to myself.”

“We’ll get out of your hair then?—”

“No, don’t; it’s okay,” I say. “I’m just dealing with some things I left behind, Damon. Besides, I’m hooked on this pretty little thing here. And I’m surprised, to be honest.”

He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he swoons over his daughter. “That this happened? I’m surprised, too. One of those happy accidents, I suppose. Shiloh has kept me afloat during my darker days.”

“Darker days?”

The look he gives sends a shockwave to my very core.

“Don’t think for a second that your absence hasn’t been felt, Clara.

You left a hole behind you, and none of us knew how to fill it,” he admits.

“I happened to have Shiloh. Jace buried his head in work and tech gadgets. And Carter, well, he hasn’t been the same since you left.

In fact, this is the first time I’ve seen the spark return to his eyes. ”

“Damon, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“I know. You did what you thought was best.”

“And it wasn’t enough.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says. “You’re here, now. You can walk away like before and leave an even bigger hole behind you, or you can stay, if only for a while, to mend some fences and heal yourself. I don’t think the time you had away from here did you much good in terms of what happened.”

I shake my head slowly. “In a way it did and in a way it didn’t. I’m still trying to figure that out for myself.”

“While you figure that out, what do you say we all get reacquainted again?”

His voice is sweet, his tone soft. There’s a gentleness in his demeanor that contradicts his massive frame, his broad and muscular shoulders, his square jaw. A kindness in his eyes that adds something more for me to be drawn to, as if the magnetism wasn’t powerful enough already.

The look in his eyes. The way in which his lips part slowly as he looks at me.

It’s irresistible.

“Reacquainted?”

The proposition sounds dangerous, though not necessarily in a bad way. The guys and I do have unfinished business, so to speak. Dreams left unrealized.

“Yes, we can start with a playdate. You and me, Shy-Shy and Matty someday soon. My mom can join us. An extra set of adult hands in the room,” he says.

I laugh lightly. “A playdate, you say. It sounds interesting. I know Matty would love to meet this gorgeous young lady.”

“Who’s Matty?” Shiloh asks, looking up at her handsome daddy.

“Matty is my son. He’s a year older than you, and I think you’d have a lot of fun together. Do you like finger painting, Shy-Shy?”

“Yeah!”

“So does Matty,” I reply, then smile at Damon. “It’s a date then.”

“It’s a date,” he confirms.

We’re both aware of the double meaning behind our statements. Getting closer to Damon will inadvertently bring me closer to Jace and Carter, too. Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe this will be my reckoning .

I can only hope that it will lead somewhere better, though deep in my heart I know that it won’t, not while I carry my secrets.