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girl nodded.

      “Let me show you how to buckle her in.”

      Cheryl demonstrated, then unbuckled her and let Nathan try.

      “Thank you.” His eyes were glazed.

      “Why didn’t he know her name?” Josh asked as they watched the car drive away. “Is he stupid?”

      “Don’t call people names.”

      He kicked at the pavement. “But he’s dumb.”

      “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

      The little girl hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t much younger than Josh. Something was wrong.

      Cheryl chewed on her thumb. Poor thing. But Isabella wasn’t her problem.

      * * *

      “I’M TAKING YOU to your grandma and grandpop.” Nathan couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth. A kid. Isabella.

      She didn’t speak. Just looked at him with her deer-in-headlights eyes.

      Hell. How old was she?

      “Can you talk?” He turned so he could see her.

      She nodded, tucking the dirty blanket next to her face. That was something.

      At his parents’ house, he pulled out the birth certificate. And stared. Father—Nathan Forester. He checked the birth date then counted on his fingers. He didn’t trust his brain. Four. He thought the kid was four.

      That made sense. It had been five years or so since he and Heather had been together. But his memory was as holey as a pegboard, especially under stress.

      He clicked open the booster seat latches. Isabella ignored his outstretched arms and scrambled out of the car. It was freaky the way she never said a word.

      “Anyone home?” he called, leading her into his parent’s house.

      The scent of lemons greeted them. “You’re in luck. Mom must be baking pie.”

      Isabella popped her thumb in her mouth and stared.

      His mom stuck her head out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

      He swallowed. How did he introduce Isabella to his parents? New evidence he was a screw-up.

      “I...I brought someone to meet you.”

      Mom’s gaze dropped to the girl standing next to him. “Who is this?”

      “Mom, meet Isabella.” His voice cracked.

      His mom looked between the girl and him. Her mouth dropped open. “Nathan?” she whispered.

      “Can you say hi?” Nathan touched the kid’s shoulder. Isabella shook her head.

      Mom knelt and brushed back the dirty hair covering her eyes. “Hey there, Isabella. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

      Isabella nodded.

      Mom took her hand. “Let’s wash up and I’ll fix you a sandwich.”

      Nathan headed into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. He pulled out a beer and popped the cap. Swearing under his breath, he took a big gulp, then another.

      “Put that down.” His mother’s voice was drill sergeant worthy.

      “What? Why?”

      “Because you drove a little girl here.” Mom helped the kid onto a chair.

      Isabella’s hair was brushed and her face and hands were cleaner now. Thank God.

      “Talk to me.” Mom pulled out bread, butter and leftover ham. She made a quick sandwich and cut it into four triangles.

      The girl watched Mom with brown eyes that dominated her tiny face.

      Nathan waved a hand. “Go ahead and eat.”

      Mom poured a glass of sweet tea and stood next to him. “Who is she?”

      “She’s...” God, he wanted that beer. And maybe another six. “She’s my daughter.” The words flew out of his mouth.

      His mother’s face paled. She grabbed a chair, sinking in it. “Daughter?” Her voice barely carried over the hum of the fridge.

      He nodded. “I thought about doing a test.”

      Mom shook her head. “Look at her. She’s the spitting image of you and Daniel.”

      He stared as Isabella devoured her food.

      “When did you find out?” Mom stroked a hand down Isabella’s hair.

      “About twenty minutes ago.”

      “Today?”

      He nodded.

      “I have a granddaughter.” Her voice filled with wonder.

      Good. He needed Mom’s enthusiasm.

      Mom touched Isabella’s shoulder. “How old are you, honey?”

      She held up her hand and pulled her thumb down.

      “Four?” Nathan hoped the numbers weren’t jumbling in his head.

      The girl nodded and took another sandwich triangle.

      Mom hustled over to the cupboard, found a small glass and poured milk. Then she diced pieces of ham and slid them onto the plate.

      “Where has she been?” Mom asked.

      “I...” Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Heather dropped her off and left. She said something about going into treatment.”

      Mom hugged his shoulders. “You get to take care of this precious girl.”

      “I can’t.” He was panicking just thinking about it. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

      “No parent does at first.” Mom squeezed his hand. “You’ll learn. There are plenty of books that can help.”

      All his muscles tensed. “I can’t read.”

      “It takes you longer, but you can read.” She frowned. “You could try books on tape, too.”

      “I don’t have that kind of time.” He had a restaurant to build.

      Mom raised her eyebrows. “For children, you make the time.”

      “I was h-hoping you’d help,” he sputtered.

      “Of course I will.” She grinned. “I have a granddaughter.”

      “I mean...” He waved his hand around. “Have her live here. With someone who knows about kids.”

      “She’s your daughter.” The smile slipped off his mom’s face. “You need to get to know her.”

      “I will.” He paced.

      Her chair squeaked as she stood. She headed to the fridge and brought back the milk carton. “She’ll live with you.”

      He ripped at his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

      “You’ll learn.”

      “Learn?” His voice grew louder. “Me? Impossible.”

      Isabella stopped eating. Her gaze bounced between Nathan and his mom.

      Pop came down the back stairs, rubbing his neck like he’d just taken a nap. He probably had. His chemo treatments were brutal. He stopped, looking between Nathan and his mom as they faced off.

      Then Pop spotted the kid. “Who do we have here?”

      Mom took Pop’s hand. “Samuel, meet Isabella, our granddaughter.”

      “Our...” Pop’s gaze shot to Nathan. Disapproval tightened

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