Bittersweet Catastrophe (Second Chances #2.5) by Maureen Mayer Page A

let out this tiny squeal of a cry, and I knew right then and there my life would never be the same. That day you stole the other half of my heart.”
    I lifted the hem of my shirt and dabbed at the moisture lining the lids of my eyes. “Fuck, you’re really crushing any chance of me walking out here with my man-card intact.”
    “Get used to it, son. If you haven’t lost it by now, you’re bound to lose it in the next few months. Don’t fight the inevitable.” He chuckled and pulled me in for a hug; not your typical ‘bro hug’, but a full-bodied, two-armed hug that tugged at heartstrings I didn’t even realize were there. We weren’t big on showing one another affection, but something about that hug said so much more than words ever could.
    “Now get your ass home to your wife and tell her Grampy can’t wait to meet those little bundles of joy.”
    “You got it.” I patted him on the back one more time before pulling away. “Oh, and Pops?”
    “Yeah, son?”
    “Thanks.”
    His brows furrowed, but the smile lighting up his face caused the creases beside his eyes to become even more defined. “For what?”
    “Just thanks. For being such a great dad…and, for all intents and purposes, a mom, too.” Up until now, I never really considered the fact that he had to fill both of those roles for so many years, but he took it in stride, and no matter how bad things were or how out of control I got during my teenage years, he always provided a loving environment that kept me grounded. I couldn’t have asked for a better father, and now grandfather for my kids.
    He nodded, choking back the words he couldn’t let out. “You’re welcome. I’m happy for you, Shayne. You deserve to be happy. Now why don’t you go spread a little bit of that happiness with your wife?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Sometimes it scared me to see just how alike we really were, but I was my father’s son, through and through.
    And just as he had suggested, I was heading home to show my beautiful girl just how happy she had made me.

    I felt terrible, having promised Liberty I would make it to all of her pre-natal checkups, but I didn’t want to take the chance of missing out on a full day’s worth of pay. Although we were quite comfortable financially, I wanted to save every dime for when the babies were born. One rugrat was going to be expensive enough, but I imagined two would have us both penny-pinching until the day they graduated from college. My wallet aches just thinking about it.
    I stopped by the florist’s on my way home and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers, hoping it would soften the blow I’d have to endure when I stepped through the front door. Liberty’s mood had been so up and down these last few weeks, and it was painstakingly clear from the look of disappointment on her face that she wasn’t happy with me when I left for work this morning. But I couldn’t say that I blamed her. I gave her my word that I’d be there for her every step of the way, and here I’d gone back on it and missed out on her second appointment. Fuck, the babies weren’t even here yet, and I already felt like a shitty father and an even shittier husband. I just hoped that, one way or another, she’d let me make it up to her.
    The house was dark when I stepped inside, and only the sound of waves crashing along the beach could be heard trickling in through the open windows. The smell of rain was fresh in the air, alerting my senses to the impending storm that I could see rolling in across the ocean when I pulled into the driveway. Liberty hadn’t made it home yet, and I took it upon myself to get started on whipping up something for dinner so I could have it ready by the time she got back from her appointment. This week she was on a breakfast kick, so I decided on a simple Italian-style hash brown casserole that I knew she would love. I popped that in the oven and set the timer, all the while