Carrie Weaver - The Secret Wife

He nodded toward the baby and his grandmother. “I take it she’s not about to give him up yet? At least not without a fight?”

Nodding, Maggie fidgeted with her purse. The room seemed to close in on her. Her breathing grew shallow.

“How about if we wander over to the kitchen? I’ll come get David for you in a couple of minutes.” His voice was reassuring in the midst of her anxiety. He, at least, was somewhat familiar.

“I—”

“Please? You look like you could use a break.” He glanced toward the blonde. “None of this is Nancy’s fault. She doesn’t deserve a scene any more than you do.”

Maggie hesitated, resisting the urge to understand what the other woman might be going through, the urge to understand her own conflicting emotions. Anger rippled through Maggie. Anger at a dead man for putting her in the position of feeling sorry for Nancy. Anger that she felt obligated to hide out because of his sins.

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