Page 28 of Look for Me

“Miss Angelina and friends.” Corinne kept her voice down, as though she didn’t want Martin to know about their plans.

Well, I’m a stranger here.

“Hey, Martin.” Pete slapped his shoulder. “Why don’t you join us? You can be my plus one.”

Corinne blinked. She didn’t say a word.

“I wanna be your plus one!” Dahlia lifted her arms in the air.

Pete chuckled. “Okay, you can be my plus one, and Martin can be my plus two.”

“Is Mommy plus three then?” Dahlia let Pete hoist her in the air.

Martin tried not to freak out.

Am I a father?

Chapter Thirteen

The gathering at Angelina’s boathouse near the marina was small, but the space suddenly felt stuffy, and Corinne wanted to leave. However, she couldn’t because she had no car.

She, Dahlia, and Wanda would have to wait until they finished lunch and cleaned up the kitchen before Angelina could take them home.

There was no way she was going to get a ride from Old Man Pete, who had been asking questions about their origins—especially about Dahlia’s unnamed father.

And not on this planet would she get a ride home from Martin—who shouldn’t be here at all.

His presence caused her great discomfort.

If she thought Pete would ask questions, Martin would be even worse.

Corinne left Dahlia playing with Angelina’s grandchildren in a small corner of the living room while she tried to make herself useful in the repainted galley kitchen.

The single sixty-something Angelina lived here alone, and had offered to rent one of her two bedrooms to Corinne about a year ago. Corinne had turned her down because she wanted Dahlia to have a real yard to play in, and she was afraid Dahlia would fall overboard into the dirty water of the canal.

“If you want to help, setting the table is all we have left to do,” Angelina said.

Corinne nodded.

“Meat’s been cooking in the crockpot since this morning, and the spaghetti’s all boiled and done.”

Corinne nodded again.

“Cat got your tongue?” Angelina laughed.

“I’m just tired, is all.” Corinne didn’t say more. She hadn’t been throwing up in the morning in the last few days. Maybe she was entering the second trimester early—if there was such a thing.

“You need a nap too? I know I want one.” Angelina pointed to a cabinet under the counter. “Will you hand me a colander from under there?”

“Sure.” Corinne had been here before, so she knew where most of everything was in the kitchen.

After a few minutes of collecting mismatched forks and spoons, Corinne made her way to the living room, where a few people had set up the table.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Martin walking through the sliding glass door toward the patio and the dock.

Let him go.

She heard her heart say that, but her mind said she had better clear the air with him. Dahlia was not his and would never be his.

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