The Widowâs Surprise Baby
When Annie Marshall discovers just weeks after her husbandâs death that sheâs carrying his baby, her sadness turns to hope. Scared of facing this all on her own, she reluctantly accepts the help of her husbandâs best friend, Matthew Zelinsky. The kiss they shared after the funeral was just two friends comforting each otherâor so she tells herself. Yet spending time together makes them wonder if what they feel is more than friendship. When people in town start raising eyebrows and her business begins to suffer from the gossip, Annie must decide if loving Matthew is worth the risk.
âYou donât have to worry about me, you know.â
âI know.â So why was he? Matthew thought about her a lot. Maybe too much. âBut we both have to eat.â
She smiled. âI am hungry. Let me throw on a cover-up and weâll go.â
âIâll be right here.â He meant it, too. She could lean on him. âAlways here for you. I hope you know that.â
This felt a lot like a date. Was he trying to date Annie Marshall? Surely, it was too soon to go there.
He glanced at the woman walking beside him. She was a few years older than him. Not that it mattered. Not to him. Sheâd always been beautiful.
Annie caught him staring. âWhat?â
âNothing.â He really needed to cover this awkward awareness or theyâd have an uncomfortable dinner together. âI was just picturing your feet.â
She rolled her eyes. âReal nice.â
It felt good to tease her. As if they were friends again and nothing had happened to change that. There was no reason to let one kiss change what they were. They were friends. He needed to remember that.
Prologue
March
Annie Marshall stood in the middle of the produce section of a big chain grocery store the next town over from her own. People passed by her without a nod or glance. They didnât know her. And that was good. Too many knew her in Maple Springs. If sheâd have gone to the corner IGA, sheâd have been showered with words of sympathy and pitiful looks.
Tonight, she wasnât in the mood.
Annie had broken free from her house that was shrouded with whispers and mourning and did something normal people do. She went grocery shopping. She wanted freedom from her sister and their aunt and their careless coddling. Freedom from their compulsive comfort given to compensate for the geographic and emotional distance between them.
Tonight, she was mad.
Mad at God for taking her husband of fifteen years with a sudden heart attack, out of the blue. Mad at her aunt and sister for treating her like spun glass, ready to break. Mad at Jack for not taking better care of himself.
Heâd never come home again.
Jack...
Her throat tightened, so she closed her eyes and counted.
Annie always counted when on the edge of losing it. It had started when she was a kid because her mom refused to let her throw tantrums. It came in handy when sheâd received word of her parentsâ death while in college. Her sister, barely high-school-aged, went to live with their aunt. Life went on.
And Annie had been counting since Jackâs funeral. A week ago? It seemed like years.
She felt a touch to her shoulder and spun.
âHey.â Matthew Zelinsky searched her face. His blue eyes were dark with concern. âWhat are you doing over here?â
Annieâs throat went dry. âShopping. What about you?â
âSame.â He shrugged as he glanced at her empty cart save for a bunch of bananas. Jack had loved bananas.
Matthew placed his empty basket on the floor and then lifted her bundle of fruit and put it back on the shelf. He took her by the hand. âCome on.â
Annie didnât argue. She followed him outside into the cold, damp night. Snow banks still loomed high in the parking lot but had melted some from the dayâs rain. Dirt and silt covered their tops. Thin layers of ice shone in the overhead lights where puddles had been. The end of March wasnât pretty in northern Michigan.
Her breath blew cold smoke in front of her. âI saw you at the funeral, but you were gone before I could even talk to you.â
âI know. Iâm sorry.â