“What are you worrying about?” Keaton asked.
“I’m not Skye,” she explained. “I’ve never had the strength to go against my parents.” She snuggled her cheek against his shoulder, ashamed at her weakness. “If they find out about us, I’m not sure my choices will make you happy.”
Beneath her, Keaton’s chest rose as he gathered a great breath in his lungs. “You don’t know what’s going to happen or when. Until then let’s make sure we make the most of the present.”
Nine
Lark’s home sparkled with cleanliness and order by Wednesday night. Despite the already pristine nature of the housekeeping, Lark had attended to every corner and out of the way surface to make sure it was free of dust and dirt.
It hadn’t been Keaton’s intention that she work like a maniac in advance of his parents’ visit, but every attempt to make her stop was met with stony determination.
“Enough,” he commanded, plucking the surface cleaner and rag from her hands and dragging her from the kitchen. Scooping Grace from her swing, he handed her to Lark. It was the only way to pause her obsessive housework. “My mother is not going to notice your house. She’ll have eyes only for Grace.”
“Does she look okay?”
The dress Lark had bought for Grace was pale pink with a scalloped hem and white flowers embroidered on the bodice. Her hair had grown noticeably in the last couple weeks, but the fine texture and white-blond color didn’t make it seem as if she had much going on. Lark fussed with the tiny rosebud clip she’d attached to the silky strands.
“She’s perfect,” Keaton assured her, refraining from adding that his mother wouldn’t judge what her granddaughter was wearing.
The doorbell rang, announcing his parents’ arrival.
Lark started at the sound and gazed frantically toward her front door. “Maybe you should hold her?”
“Relax.” He tilted Lark’s chin up and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger far longer than he’d intended. “Everything is going to be fine.”
He left Lark standing in the middle of the living room, a dazed expression on her flushed face, and went to welcome his parents. He wasn’t surprised when his mother brushed right past him with barely a hello and went in search of Grace. The intensity on her face as she approached the pair made Lark’s body stiffen.
“There she is.” Gloria stopped short of plucking Grace from Lark’s arms, but touched the infant’s cheek with gentle fingertips. “Oh, she’s absolutely precious. And I think she looks a little like Jake through the chin.”
“Would you like to hold her?”
“You’re sure it’s okay?” Keaton’s mother looked delighted.
Lark’s gaze went past Gloria and fastened on her son. “Absolutely.”
Grace barely stirred as she went from her aunt to her grandmother. Hearing the volley of questions begin, Keaton turned to his father and gestured with his head toward the kitchen.
“I think they’ll be occupied for some time. Can I get you a beer?”
His dad grinned. “Always.”
Keaton showed his father the steaks he’d bought for later and David Holt nodded approvingly over the thick cuts. Although Keaton had insisted that Lark didn’t need to worry about fixing dinner, she’d made half a dozen side dishes to accompany the main course from two types of potatoes to three cold salads.
“How are things going?” Keaton’s father nodded toward Lark.
“Fine.” His gaze lingered on the pair of women in fond amusement. “Taking care of a newborn, and a preemie at that, has been easier than I expected.”
“And the Taylor girl?”
Something in his father’s tone set Keaton’s radar buzzing. “You mean Lark? What about her?”
“You’re living here, right?”
“Yes.”
What was his father getting at?
“She’s a lot prettier than I remember.”
“Your point?” Keaton quizzed, although he had a pretty good idea what was on his father’s mind.
“Just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Having his father doubt his judgment took Keaton by surprise. “Why would you think I don’t?”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” his father said. “Your brother got involved with a Taylor girl and look what happened.”
So his father had learned nothing in the last four years. “Seems to me he’s been living quite happily with the woman he loves,” Keaton retorted, making no effort to moderate his irritation.
“You don’t know that. We haven’t had any contact with him in four years. Anything could have happened.”