“Fabulous.”

Early each morning, he continued to take Thomas out for a walk, and on Tuesday they began work on a special project. Sitting in the South Harbor Diner, he propped the drooling baby up on the table so they faced each other. “Okay, buddy,” Mac said, “let me hear you say Ma-ma. Ma-ma. You can do it.”

“Mmmmm,” Thomas said, chewing on his fingers.

“Close, but not quite.” Mac tugged the fingers out of his mouth. “Ma-ma. Ma-ma.”

More drool. “Mmmmm.”

Mac was so focused on the baby that he didn’t see another man approach the table.

“He’s awfully cute.”

Mac glanced up and fought back a gasp.

“Mind if I join you?” Tom Wilkinson asked.

Mac lifted Thomas off the table and rested him on his shoulder, facing away from Tom. “Sure.”

Tom slid into the booth across from Mac and accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress.

“I didn’t think you’d be hanging around,” Mac said.

“I wasn’t going to, but something about this island calls to me. The writing really flows here.”

Mac once again found himself fighting for self-control when all he wanted to do was tell this guy what he really thought of him. “I’ve read some of your books,” he said, trying to stay on safe ground.

“That so?”

“Uh huh.” Mac wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing he’d enjoyed them.

“May I be honest with you, Mac?”

“If you must.”

“It took about thirty minutes on the island to find out you and Maddie aren’t really married.”

Mac’s heart began to beat faster. “We will be soon.”

As if Mac hadn’t spoken, Tom continued. “And to learn you only met her a week or so ago.”

Mac tightened his hold on Thomas. “What’s it to you?”

Tom sat back in the booth and stretched out an arm along the top. “Writers are notoriously bad at math, but even I can add nine plus nine to determine that’s probably my son you’re holding there.”

Mac swallowed a surge of panic. “He’s Maddie’s son.”

“No question about that. I guess the only remaining question is who’s his daddy? A DNA test should straighten that right out, wouldn’t you say?”

Mac refused to blink. “What do you want?”

Now Tom leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “Assurances that she’s not coming after me for money.”

“Has she yet?”

“That doesn’t mean she won’t.”

“She has no interest in you or your money. I can guarantee that.”

“What about him?” Tom nodded to the baby. “When he’s old enough to know who is father is?”

“He’ll have a father, and he’ll want for nothing.”

“Are you willing to put that in writing?”

“If you’re willing to sign away your rights to him.”

“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the documents.”