Page 12 of Twice in a Lifetime

Merritt’s movements were jerky and robotic as she reached for her purse beneath the counter we worked at and stood, heading for the door that led into the waiting area. She smiled up at her husband, but I noticed the way her mouth pulled tight when he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Not her hand, her wrist. As though his grip were a shackle, not an affectionate touch. I also didn’t miss the way his grip tightened to the point it looked painful. Alarms started going off in my head. I knew this man was dangerous without needinga lick of proof. Unfortunately, without it, there wasn’t much I could do to help Merritt.

Between the mind-numbing work,spending the rest of the day worrying about Merritt, and the fact that I hadn’t slept well in months, I was running on fumes by the time I handled school and daycare pickup, and it was barely four in the afternoon.

I would have given anything to take a nice, long soak in a hot tub with a glass of wine then sleep for a full eight hours, but there was still too much to do. I had to make dinner, help Avett and Adeline with their schoolwork, make sure everyone bathed—and by bathed I meant did more than just stand beneath the water for ten minutes before hopping out and declaring they were clean. At 9, 7, and 4, I still had to make sure my kids used soap.

Unfortunately, before I could do any of that, I had to stop at the grocery store. Thanks to all the stress cooking, Tristan’s pantry and fridge were running low.

“All right guys, you know the drill,” I said as I threw my SUV into park and twisted to look back at my kiddos. “You behave in there and you can each getonetreat.” I held up my index finger for emphasis.

Ainsley did a little happy shuffle. “I wants a princess cupcake!” she declared, and I held back a wince at the thought of the mountain of pink frosting they piled on top of the cupcakes in the bakery section. With that much sugar, I’d be lucky if I got her to sleep before ten.

Adeline’s eyes were round with excitement. “Can I have a honeybun?”

I smiled at my oldest daughter. “Sure you can.” Then I turned to my boy. “Avett? What are you in the mood for?”

He tapped his chin in contemplation, the picture of seriousness, before stating, “Technically,those bags of mini-donuts should count as one since they’re all in one bag.”

I gave him a look that my mom had given me countless times growing up. My baby boy was sometimes too damn smart for his—andmy—own good. “Nice try, bud. Push it and I won’t let you pick. I’ll just get you an oatmeal raisin cookie.”

His face screwed up like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Raisins are gross!”

I arched a brow. “Exactly. So I suggest you play by the rules.”

He rolled his eyes, the gesture making him look much older than his nine years.God, when did my kids start getting so damn big?“Fine,” he let out a beleaguered huff. “I guess I’ll get a cake pop.”

“Smart man.”

I had high hopes that my bribery would make this shopping trip go faster, but I should have known better, because the moment we entered through the retractable glass doors, they started bickering.

“I want to push the cart,” Avett proclaimed.

“Nuh-uh! You pushed it last time,” Adeline argued. “It’s my turn this time.”

My son narrowed his eyes at his sister. “No way! You’re too little. You can’t even see over the handle.”

Adeline stomped her foot and clenched her hands into fists. “Can too! Mommy said I had a growth sport and that’s why I had to get all new clothes. ’Cause my old ones didn’t fit no more.”

“It’s growthspurt,” I corrected. “And both of you knock it off. Since you can’t play nice, neither of you gets to push the cart.” That was followed by a chorus of whiny objections, each of them blaming the other. The twitch in my eyelid sped up.

“Keep arguing and you lose your treats. This is your last warning.”

The two of them clamped their mouths shut but continued glaring daggers at each other as I lifted Ainsley and placed her in the seat at the front of the cart and started down the first aisle. We managed to make it down the bread, canned goods, and spices aisles without incident, but my luck ran out two aisles later. I was standing in front of the selection of pastas, trying to decide which would go best with shrimp in a garlic butter sauce when a crash whipped me around.

Avett stood there among what looked like a murder scene, broken glass and marinara sauce splattered everywhere.

He looked up at me with big, remorseful eyes. “Sorry, Momma. I was just tryin’ to help and it slipped.”

That twitch grew more intense. “That’s okay, baby, it was just an accident. But don’t move; there’s glass everywhere.”

Then Rhodes’s deep, raspy voice spoke from behind me. “Everything okay?”

How was it that this man always managed to run into me when I was at my worst?

Chapter Seven

Blythe

Rhodes strode closer to me and my kids, and with each step he took, I felt my heartrate kick up a little faster. I hadn’t really been in the headspace to take him in fully when I ran into him in Lincoln’s office, but standing in the middle of the aisle at Fresh Foods, it was impossible to miss how much he’d grown up since I last saw him all those years ago.

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