Maggie laughed. “Oh, I’d say having ten puppies isn’t as hard as having a baby. Some mothers talk about how heavenly it is and how they’re filled with maternal bliss for years on end. All I could do was pray the little alien hanging on my boob would sleep for more than half an hour at a time.”

“Did Colby help at all?”

“He tried. But it was awkward. One minute he’s a sexy bachelor chasing after the girl of his dreams, then he catches her and—oops!—he has an instant family and doesn’t have time to go out with the boys anymore. I felt like he was resentful. He claimed he wasn’t. I told him I wanted him to leave, that I’d raise our son myself. I said it in anger, but we were both too proud to back off once we blew up.”

That made Quinn sad. Maggie did have a stubborn streak.

“He really tried, though. He took me to every doctor visit,” Maggie said softly. “He did the birthing classes, and he was there when Charlie was born, coaching me through it like a boss. I think Colby fell in love with him the minute the nurse placed him into those big, rough hands.”

She sounded like she was still in love with him, but Quinn knew better than to push her. “It must be hard to be a single mom.”

Maggie looked at her quickly, then gazed out to sea. “Yep. Even before the Ghost came along, this was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done in my life. You don’t realize it at the time, but the infant stage is actually the best part. I don’t know how all these Instagram moms do everything so perfect and still look like a million bucks in all their photos. I’m almost glad I had to erase myself from all social media. At least I don’t have that impossible depiction of motherhood in my face all the time, taunting me that I’m more or less a domestic failure. It’s made it a lot easier when some days it’s all I can do to thaw out chicken nuggets and give him his third Juicy Juice of the day.”

“I bet you do just fine,” Quinn said.

Maggie shrugged. “My mom thinks so. I hide all the sugary cereal and faux fruit snacks on the rare occasion she visits. For all she knows, I’m feeding him three servings of fruits and vegetables a day and washing him with homemade, chemical-free soap while we recite the alphabet backward and forward.”

That made Quinn smile again. Maggie’s mom could be quite type A when she wanted to. She had pushed Maggie into being an overachiever all the way until the tenth grade, when her daughter finally sat her down and told her to back off.