“He’s fine. We’re fine.” She engulfed Lincoln in a hug, pressing her cheek to his soft chestnut curls, willing him to calm down.

“Cool. Cool. So I’ve gotta jet, but remember what my mom says—they call it the terrible twos for a reason, right?”

Sadie tried to laugh. It came out like a donkey’s death rattle.

“Hey, why don’t you give her a call? She’d love to give you some advice.”

Oh, wouldn’t she?

Sadie would rather cannonball butt naked into the frigid ocean out her bay window than discuss parenting strategies with her mother-in-law. Yes, Annette Landry had raised three healthy, successful adults, and she’d enjoyed doing it, too. No, she had loved it. Staying at home was “such a precious gift.” Something she “never dared to take for granted.”

She probably mopped up potty accidents in her signature twin-set, too, complete with the pearl earrings and perfectly applied mascara.

Sadie, on the other hand, had found her yoga pants and sweatshirt so comfy yesterday that she’d slept in them…and was still wearing them today.

Underwear included.

A fact that would make Annette’s sculpted bob stand on end.

But while Annette might get on her nerves, her mother-in-law had raised the man of her dreams. And that had to count for something.

“Your mother will be here in the morning for Lincoln’s party. I’ll borrow her ear then.” She prayed she sounded halfway chipper. “Drive safe, honey. I’ll see you tonight.”

They hung up, an absentminded “love you” on both ends.

* * *

Fortunately, the misaimed pee-pee had ended up in the bathtub.

Unfortunately, removing the lipstick from a squirming child’s torso was going to have to count as her day’s cardio. There really should be an energy drink named “Toddler.” In the end, she resorted to pouring makeup remover over a hand towel and rubbing it against Lincoln’s baby-soft skin.

As for the wallpaper, well…she’d figure that out when she got back home.

Tugging a superhero shirt over his head, she gave both his dimples a noisy smooch that sent him giggling. “Next time you’re curious about one of Mommy’s things, you need to come and ask my permission to play with it. Okay, bud?”

He nodded shyly. “Kay.”

She helped him into his parka before deciding her hoodie could ward off the spring chill just fine. So much for waltzing into the doctor’s office with an insulated mug of coffee and perfectly flat-ironed hair. Popping two ibuprofens and smearing on some deodorant would have to count as a win.

As the idyllic, seaside cottages blurred past her minivan window, she tried to practice gratitude. Cranberry Cove wasn’t just a postcard-perfect Maine village, but her hometown. When Ethan had bought the Brewer place—formerly her beloved grandma’s home—as a surprise wedding gift, she’d blamed her tears on the fact that she was eight and a half months pregnant and busting out of her bridal gown. She knew she was lucky to raise her son in a place right down the block from where she’d grown up and where he could enjoy some of her happiest childhood memories, like collecting seashells and licking butter off her fingertips during summer lobster bakes.