Baby Steps: Love You Madly, #2

By Matilda Martel

Love You Madly, Book 2

Ginger
Who says you can't leave the rat race? The call of money can be all-consuming, but it doesn't hold a candle to the biological clock that's been ticking since I turned twenty-eight.
One month from my thirtieth birthday, I decide I've had enough.
I find out my favorite house, the one I daydreamed about when I was young, is up for sale. It's the perfect home to raise my family, and it's the ideal place to start over---my hometown.
Maybe I don't have a husband, but I've waited long enough.
I'm tired of waiting for the right man to come along. I'm going after what I want and having the family I need.
Morgan
I didn't mean to fall in love with an older woman. It just happened. When you're ten years old, you follow your heart. And that's just what I did.
I followed it straight to sixteen-year-old Ginger Fox, the prettiest girl in our small town of Abbott and my eldest sister's best friend.
I didn't stand a chance against her fiery red hair and pale blue eyes. When she left for the big city, she broke my heart in two. I never got over her, and I never stopped waiting for the day our paths would cross again.
But now she's back. She wants to build a life in Abbott, and she wants a baby.
If she only knew how long I've been waiting to give her one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matilda Martel
• Release date: Sep 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215552513

Matilda Martel

Matilda loves many things---her husband, dachshunds, cats, the two terrible Chihuahuas who live with her, Paris, New York, a few select friends and family, Nutella, books, lots and lots of books, and writing sweet, steamy romance for nerdy girls-- because that's who I am.If you like your romances steamy but sweet. Sexy, but on the shorter side. With smart and sassy heroines who fall for soulful Alphas- then you might like my books.I write A LOT of OMYW, cause that's just my bag. But no matter what kind of story it is, my ladies are always adored and my endings are always HEA.Please head to my blog: www.matildamartel.com, to learn what's in the final stages and will be coming out soon!Want a free Ebook? Join my mailing list to get my monthly newsletter at : www.matildamartel.com/mailinglist/

Book preview

ginger

"What do you mean you're moving to New Hampshire? Absolutely not, Ginger. I forbid it." Douglas Fairfield, my delusional ex-boyfriend, former best friend, and all-around thorn in my side, loses the last remnants of his sanity and proclaims himself the boss of me. His ridiculous, over-the-top declaration draws glares and whispers to our dimly lit table for two at the exclusive Chez Henri. He's wanted to try this place for weeks, and I only finagled last-minute reservations because I'm friends with the owner's sister. I don't know why I assumed a mix of gratitude, fine dining, and ambiance would put him in a good mood.

I stare, amazed at his wild-eyed expression, and calmly reach for my glass of water. It takes two good sips to clear the bile crawling up my throat, but a third buys me enough time to bite my tongue. There's no sense in arguing with him when he's being unreasonable. Since our break-up four months ago, he's determined to figure me out. Dumping him couldn't possibly have anything to do with his inadequacies. It must have something to do with my job, stress, turning thirty, or my relationship with my absent father. If all else fails, it must be hormones. Deep down, he secretly believes all our problems stem from my inability to control my female hormones. And in this case, he's partially correct.

I want a baby. He doesn't.

Douglas Fairfield never wants to be a father. He knew my feelings about motherhood from the get-go. Still, he pretended to shine from within at the prospect of one day raising a family with yours truly. Four months ago, a year into our relationship, he revealed he only said those things because he felt desperate to be with me.

Dougie never takes responsibility for his shortcomings. His duplicity wasn't his fault. It was my fault for setting standards he couldn't meet and forcing him to lie.

As a matter of fact, I leave in three days. My place is packed, and most of my belongings are on their way to New Hampshire. This dinner is just a formality, Douglas. Please, don't make a fuss. I deliberately condescend while I cut into my chicken, refusing to look up for fear he'll see the flames shooting out of my eyes.

What about us? He extends his hand across the table, reaching for mine in a bold attempt to appear romantic, but I swipe it away in the nick of time.

Us? There is no us, I mumble through bites. You and I were like two ships… I try to conjure a proper analogy and fall short. That's what comes from not caring.

Ships? We were together for over a year! He corrects me, raising his voice and then shrinking in his seat when a passing server gives him the stink eye. Whatever problems we have, we can work on together. But I can't just pick up my life and company and move to New Hampshire. How can you? You're a shark. You love the rat race and make money hand over fist. What happened to the Ginger I know and love?

I cringe with confusion. Were you always like this?

Like what?

I push my plate away and pat my belly, humming with satisfaction at another perfect meal. When I spot the chef, my friend Maggie's older brother, strutting nearby, checking in on guests, I use the opportunity to create a temporary buffer between Douglas and me. Lance!

His head turns at the sound of my voice, and he quickly excuses himself from the table he's schmoozing. Ginger! If it isn't the Granite State girl. Maggie said you'd be in tonight. I'm glad you stopped by to say goodbye. He leans in and gives me a side hug. Who's this guy? He points to Doug, a man he's met a hundred times.

Nice to see you too, Malone. The place looks good, Douglas grumbles, stifling his enthusiasm after he routinely fangirls that he knows famous chef Lance Malone.

The place looks fantastic, or you wouldn't be here. Lance modifies Dougie's cheap praise and pulls up a chair. Mags told me you bought a big old house and plan to renovate it. That's a big job. Just make sure you hire local and ask around for references.

Douglas clears his throat, unhappy by the intrusion and suspicious that something unsavory might be happening. When Lance props his overgrown, overly tattooed arm onto the table and leans into his elbow, effectively cutting Douglas off, the latter jumps to his feet and accuses me of infidelity. Is he the reason you're moving? Is he behind our break-up?

Sit down, or I'll get up, fold you in half and plant you into your chair, Lance growls under his breath but never turns to face Dougie's frightened expression. You've caused enough problems. How dare you accuse a lady like Ginger of something unseemly. You're lucky I let you in here. Confronted with someone he wouldn't dare belittle, Douglas throws his napkin on the table and tries to take his proverbial ball home. Before he gets far, Lance closes his fist into the hem of Doug's tweed jacket and holds him in place. Don't forget to pay your bill, jackass. And leave a hefty tip for the waiter who tolerated you. He releases him and sends him sputtering between tables.

I cover my mouth to smother laughter in need of release, then let it explode. "You're horrible.