Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T eddy gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary as Frank’s droning voice filled the cabin of the SUV. The winter sun glared low on the horizon, reflecting off the pristine blanket of snow outside. Inside, though, the temperature was rising, thanks to the cacophony of opinions coming from both his front passenger and backseat occupants.
“All I’m saying is that Bunny’s departure is inevitable." It was the fifth time that Frank had said it. "She's one of those modern career women. Not the kind of woman to play doting wife. And what you need is a mother for your baby as well as a new communications director."
Teddy had no plans to recast the role of his future wife, nor refill the position in his cabinet with anyone else. There was no one he wanted to communicate with more than Bunny Chou.
“How about naming her Eleanor?" His mother chimed in from the backseat, completely ignoring the tension up front. "It's a power couple's name; Theodore and his daughter Eleanor."
Teddy groaned, adjusting the rearview mirror to glance at not-Eleanor. She was happily cooing, bundled snugly in a pink blanket and chewing on her tiny fist.
“The election is coming up. You need stability. Someone dependable. Someone who won’t undermine your campaign by running against you?—”
"Freya? Or maybe Makeda? Do you like that, little Keda? My strong warrior princess."
Teddy pulled into the parking lot of the mayor’s office, his tires crunching over the salt-streaked pavement. The streets were clear enough to navigate, but snowbanks towered along the curbs, narrowing many of the town’s two-lane roads to awkward, single-lane negotiations. Drivers had no choice but to exchange courtesy waves and hesitant nods as they edged past one another. A few ambitious kids had already turned the towering piles of snow into makeshift forts, their shouts and laughter echoing faintly through the crisp air.
The mayor’s office sat in quiet dignity, its stone facade dusted with a fine layer of snow like powdered sugar on a bundt cake. Teddy pulled into his designated spot and killed the engine. As soon as the car stopped, he was out, moving with purpose to the back seat.
"I got her, Ma."
"Good, because I want to go grab some breakfast for you."
"I already ate back home."
"You need a second breakfast. I swear, you're skin and bones."
It was after lunch, but Teddy didn't argue with his mother. He scooped the baby from her car seat with a motion that was becoming second nature, her little body warm and snug against his chest. She gurgled in delight, her tiny fingers latching on to the end of his tie like it was her personal security blanket. Teddy looked down at her as her toothless smile lit up her face. The stress of the drive—the plows forcing him to weave through half-cleared streets, the stray chunks of icy slush kicked up by passing cars—melted away.
The town was battered but not broken. People were out shoveling their sidewalks, waving to one another as they worked. The smell of snow lingered in the air, mingling with the faint bite of exhaust from the plows that had done their duty. It was messy, sure, but it was home. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
The sound of laughter and shrill cries of delight carried through the crisp air as a group of kids flung snowballs at each other near the steps of the mayor’s office. A particularly large snowball splattered against a tree trunk, drawing a round of cheers from the kids. When they caught sight of Teddy, one of the older boys paused, his snowball halfway to his target.
“Mayor Carter,” the boy called, waving. The others turned and stared, their eyes immediately landing on the bundled-up baby in his arms.
Teddy braced himself, knowing what was coming.
“Whoa.” A little girl with pigtails ran up, her boots crunching in the snow. “Is that your baby?”
The group of adolescents crowded around, their excitement spilling into an impromptu interrogation.
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“What’s her name?”
“Does he like snow?”
A little girl with a red scarf tilted her head, studying the baby with a critical eye. “She’s cute. But… she doesn’t look like you.” She squinted, as if trying to find some similarity. “You’re, like, dark brown. She’s super white.”
Out of the mouths of babes. Teddy laughed at the matter-of-fact observation. "I'm taking care of her until we find her parents."
"Like you come and take care of us after school?"
"Yes, exactly like that."
"You're a good dude, Mayor Carter. Wanna play snowball fight with us?"
"Thanks, but not right now. I've gotta keep watch over this little bundle."
"I'll babysit if you want. I'm good at watching my little brother."
"Thanks, I might take you up on that. You guys go and have fun. No ice balls."
Teddy watched the kids go. He couldn’t remember the last time a group of adults had made him feel so understood. The kids didn’t care about optics or gossip. They just saw a guy with a baby and decided that made him worth trusting. It was refreshing. Reassuring, even.
As the group of children scampered back to their snowball fight, Teddy straightened, his smile lingering. But when he turned toward the office, he noticed a man approaching from the sidewalk—a tall figure in a navy overcoat carrying a leather folder. His purposeful stride screamed ex-military. Teddy would know as an Army brat and a vet himself.
“Mayor Carter?” the man asked, extending a hand. “I’m Paul Redding, with Child Protective Services."
"Child Protective Services?" Frank placed a hand to his heart. It reminded Teddy of that old Sanford and Sons television show his dad used to watch. The elder Sanford would dramatically place a hand over his heart and feign a heart attack whenever things weren't going his way.
"I'm here about the child left on your doorstep the other night," Mr. Redding continued, covertly ignoring Frank. "This is her?"
Teddy nodded, holding the baby closer to his chest.
"Why don't we step inside so we can talk about the baby’s placement?”
Teddy stepped into his office, the baby snug against his chest, her soft coos muffled by the thick knit of his sweater. The scent of formula was on her chin, a reminder of the early morning feeding he’d managed with only minor chaos.
Frank released his heart and turned toward the staff in the main room. Now that this crisis was averted, his campaign manager was on the hunt for a new one. The last thing Teddy heard was Frank’s voice was a drone of logistics as he rattled off calls, his pace slowing to a stop outside the door.
Paul Redding settled into a chair across from Teddy’s desk. He was a tall, no-nonsense man with sharp features and kind eyes. He opened his leather folder with practiced efficiency, the crisp sound of paper slicing through the quiet.
“We’re working to track down the parents. In the meantime, we can place her in foster care. We have families available who can take her immediately.”
Teddy shifted his hold on the baby, her tiny fingers clutching at his collar. “She hasn’t been a bother. I can?—”
“That's perfect.” Frank stepped into the room. “This solves everything. The baby goes to a safe home. The town stops buzzing with all this ridiculous gossip. No more rumors, no more shotgun wedding.”
Frank’s tone was so breezy, so matter-of-fact, that Teddy had to bite down hard on his response. The words “shotgun wedding” hit like a punch to the gut, but not for the reasons Frank assumed. To Teddy, the shotgun wedding wasn’t the problem—it was the solution. Because it meant Bunny. It meant keeping her by his side forever.
His gaze drifted to the door—and there she was. Bunny stood in the doorway. The fluorescent light above cast a soft glow on her. Her lips parted into a tentative smile that sent a jolt of warmth straight to his chest.
Then Frank spoke again, breaking the spell. “Now we just need to find a new communications director to replace Bunny, and this whole mess will be behind us.”