His Forever Family. Sarah M. Anderson

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      She looked down at him skeptically. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

      His face got hot. “No?”

      Liberty sighed, but at least she was grinning as she moved his hands into approximately the right position as if it was no big deal to physically rearrange him. But it only made that nearly out-of-body experience he was having that much worse.

      What if...

      “Here we are,” Hazel said, handing William to Marcus. The baby sighed and scrunched up his nose.

      Marcus was dimly aware that Hazel and Liberty were still talking, but he didn’t really hear them. Instead, he stared down at the child in his arms.

      William was so small—how was this human going to grow up and be a regular-sized person? “Hi, William,” Marcus whispered as the baby waved one of his hands jerkily through the air.

      Without thinking about it, Marcus shifted and held one of his fingers up against William’s hand. The baby grabbed on at the same time his little eyes opened up all the way, and in that moment Marcus was lost. How could anyone have walked away from this baby? This must have been what Liberty had felt when she’d held the baby in the park.

      They couldn’t lose this baby. He’d thought he’d done his part, getting William into one of the best foster homes—but now that Marcus had seen Liberty with him, now that he’d held William himself, how could he walk away from this child?

      He looked around the room again. Hazel was a good foster mother for a baby, he decided. But the stuff she had to work with was ancient. Marcus eyed the baby swing William had been in when they got here. The thing looked like a deathtrap of metal and plastic.

      His phone buzzed in his pocket, which startled the baby. William began to fuss and Hazel swooped in and plucked him from Marcus’s arms. “There, now,” she soothed.

      “Sorry,” Marcus said as he dug out his phone. The missed call had been from his mother. This couldn’t be good. It was already past five.

      “We should go,” Liberty said. “Hazel, thank you so much for letting us visit William. This was wonderful. I’m so glad he’s got you.”

      With William tucked against her chest, Hazel waved the compliment away. “You’re more than welcome to come back. Just give me a call!”

      “Could we?” Liberty glanced at Marcus, her cheeks coloring brightly. “I mean, I’ll do that.”

      “We can come back,” he agreed. And he wasn’t just saying that—he really did want to see the baby again. More than that, he wanted to see Liberty with the baby again.

      Liberty gave him another one of her shy smiles, as if she’d been hoping he’d say that but hadn’t dared to ask.

      As they walked toward the front door, Hazel followed them. “You two should consider applying for adoption,” she said. “A nice couple like you? And because you found him, you might have a better chance of getting him. If they don’t find his birth mother, that is,” she added, sounding sad. “Poor dear.”

      Liberty jolted. “I don’t—”

      “We’ll discuss it,” Marcus said. He put his hand on Liberty’s back and guided her down the stairs. “Thanks so much.”

      He made sure to shut the door behind them.

Six

      Liberty stood on the sidewalk in a state of shock. She knew she needed to pull herself together but she was weirdly numb right now.

      “That place was a time warp,” Marcus said, stepping around her to the car and opening the passenger door for her.

      She blinked at him. Hazel was a warm, loving, capable woman who had only one child in her charge and, by all appearances, would dote on William as if he were her own. That was weird enough, but now? Marcus Warren was opening her door for her. In what world did any of this make sense?

      “Liberty?” Then he was touching her again, his hand in the small of her back as he gently propelled her toward his waiting car as if he was her chauffeur instead of her billionaire boss. Warmth flowed up her back from where he touched her and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him. “Are you all right?”

      No. No, she wasn’t. Everything had changed and she didn’t know how she’d ever be the same again. But she had to try. “I can’t—you don’t have to come back.”

      Marcus snorted in amusement. “I never have to do something I don’t want,” he said. “You were right. We can’t lose him.”

      “We?” That word sounded different in her ears now, foreign almost. There was no “we” where Marcus and she were concerned. Not outside the office or off the jogging path. Or beyond her carefully guarded fantasies. “But...”

      “Come on,” he said, almost pushing her into the car. “Let’s get some dinner. We can talk then.”

      “Dinner?” She couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. We. Dinner. “No—wait,” she said when he got into the driver’s seat. “You don’t have to take me to dinner. You should be taking a potential wedding date—not me.”

      “Maybe I am taking a potential date to dinner.”

      And they were right back to where they’d been earlier. Well, this time she was not going to mess around. The sooner he realized how radically inappropriate she’d be as a wedding date, the sooner they could get back to their regularly scheduled programming. “Marcus, I’m not going. I’m not good enough for you, for that crowd. I know it. Everyone else there will know it. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to realize it.”

      “That’s not—”

      She cut him off because he had to see reason. She didn’t know how much longer she could be this strong. “That’s not all. Why would I want to go to this wedding? Why would I want to watch Lillibeth hurt you again? Because you know she’s going to try. And everyone will be watching to see how bad it’s going to be. You’ll be back in the media again. And I don’t want to be a part of that. I don’t want to be another reason people try to tear you down. I care too much about you to let that happen.”

      The last part just slipped out. She hadn’t meant to say that she cared about him at all, but she’d built up a head of steam. But it was the truth—a truth that she couldn’t bury anymore.

      “Liberty,” he said. And then something horrible and wonderful happened—Marcus touched her. He cupped her face in the palm of his hand.

      “I just don’t want you to be hurt again,” she breathed. And even though she knew she shouldn’t, she reached up and held his palm against her skin.

      “You won’t hurt me. I know you too well for that.”

      There it was again, that blind trust he had in her. And she knew—knew—that if he learned the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about her junkie mom and her unknown father, he would be hurt.

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