Juniper Hill (The Edens, #2)

by Devney Perry

“Listen, if he sleeps, I sleep, you sleep. Can we just . . . try something other than this? Let me walk him around for a while. Probably won’t matter but at the very least, you can take a breather.”

Drake let out another wail and kicked his tiny feet, she shifted my way.

Not black, like Jadon’s. Blond.

Blond, baby Drake. It was a great name. He was a solid kid. That was different too. Drake seemed strong.

“All right, boss,” I told Drake. “We need to tone this down.”

“I need sleep. So do you. So does your mom. How about we quit the night shift?”

He was in a pair of footed pajamas, the blue print fabric full of puppies.

“When I was a kid, I had a dog. Her name was Scout.”

“She was brown with floppy ears and a stubby tail. Her favorite thing in the summer was to run through the yard sprinklers. And in the winter, she’d jump in the biggest snowbanks, burying herself so far down we weren’t sure she’d make it out.”

“Yeah. I was over there tonight and Hudson was not about his mom. But Griffin took him and it settled him down. Probably just a different voice.”

“Do you need me to carry you around too? Pat your back? Tell you about my childhood pets?” I teased.

“How did you become a chef?”

“That’s not sleeping.”

“It was my nickname in culinary school. My first week I tried to impress an instructor. Got cocky. I was grating some carrots and not paying attention. Slipped and grated my knuckles instead.”

Maybe it was the woman herself, haunting my dreams.

The thud of footsteps climbing the loft’s staircase and the soft knock that followed were becoming my favorite sounds.

“What’s the problem tonight, boss?” That smooth, deep voice was as comforting to me as it was my son.

My son preferred Knox’s chest to mine. My son was no fool. I was as enchanted as my baby.

Dad bought eight horses years ago and Eloise named them all after the planets.

Mars is mine.”

My horse’s name had been Lady. She’d pranced around like one too.

Maybe motherhood wasn’t always being the person your child leaned on, but finding the person they needed when you weren’t enough.

The woman who actually earned his strong arms for real hugs would be a lucky, lucky girl.

“My father never held Drake. You’re the only man to ever carry him in your arms.”

My parents, my dad in particular, doesn’t approve of my choices. He sets the tone for our family, and when I refused to do things his way, he disowned me. My mother, my sister and my brother followed suit. Though it doesn’t really matter because I disowned them too.”

“I worked for my dad. He fired me. I was living in one of their Manhattan townhouses.

“He wants to know who Drake’s father is. I refuse to tell him. I refuse to tell anyone.”

But there’s a reason why no one knows who Drake’s father is. I plan to keep it that way.”

“No. He’s gone from my life.”

I had a signed document to prove it.

“I’m named after Dad’s favorite hotel in Memphis. My sister is named Raleigh. My brother is Houston.”

And I’d traded my thirty-million-dollar trust fund for a fourteen-dollar-per-hour housekeeping job.

“I have a degree in sociology from Princeton. Not exactly useful, but it was interesting.”

“Princeton. Why did you choose to work at The Eloise? Why not find something that paid more?”

“Seriously? You’ve never cleaned before this?”

“Well . . . according to Eloise, you’re doing a hell of a job.”

“I didn’t turn my life upside down to spite anyone. I did it for Drake. Because I believe in my heart of hearts, this is a better life. Even if it’s hard. Even if we’re alone.”

but on the first-worst day of my life, they let me down. So I’ve let them go.”

“You keep track of your worst days?”

“The day I had Drake. It was also the first-best day of my life.”

I woke up a day later after almost dying from a postpartum hemorrhage.”

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

He was hugging me again, holding me so tight with those invisible arms that I couldn’t speak.

Mothering, according to Skip.

It was six. Shouldn’t Memphis be home by now?

My family was nothing but supportive—borderline overbearing, but only because they cared. Not in a million years would Mom and Dad treat their daughters the way Memphis had been treated.

Not in a million years would they not have held their grandchild.

respected the hell out of her for walking away. From the money. From the legacy. From the control. I admired her ...

my face buried in my refrigerator, but I slammed it shut and strode for the front door.

Her face was splotchy. Her eyes were rimmed in red like she’d cried the entire drive here. And Drake was screaming.