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Zoey opens then shuts her mouth. “I didn’t realize—” She coughs, then shoots a sideways glance at Summer, who’s looking at me with shrewd eyes.
“Q mentioned the circumstances of your meeting were unorthodox.” She rolls the buggy back and forth without conscious thought, in the way mothers often do when they soothe their child. “But he didn’t tell us the details, so you know.”
I’m not sure what to say. It’s not like I know these women. Though, I suppose I appreciate Q looking out for me.
“Q is friends with my husband Sinclair Sterling. It’s how I met him. He struck me as someone who's a loner, by choice?—”
“So of course, Summer goes out of her way to make sure he's invited home for dinner every chance he gets.” Zoey rolls her eyes.
“Often, it was me and Sinclair, and my sister Karma and her husband Michael, and then there was Q. My husband met Q after he retired from the Marines and joined the Davenports. They became friends very quickly, and that’s unusual for my husband. Sinclair doesn’t trust people easily, nor does Michael. But they both trust Q, enough to ask him to join us for dinner. I’d like to think it was my husband and Michael who convinced Q there's life after the Marines,” Summer adds.
“Karma... You don’t mean Karma West Sovrano, the designer?” The name Karma is unusual, so I venture a guess.
Summer nods, and her features shine with pride.
“Oh, my god, I love her style! I found one of her originals in a charity shop, which was the only way I could afford it at my wedding—” I stop. “I mean, my almost-wedding.”
The baby yawns and stretches. He opens his eyes and looks at me in the way little kids have, when they’re fascinated by what they’re seeing. He blinks, then holds up his arms. And that’s it, I’m a goner.
"Aww, you’re a cutie." I glance at Summer. "May I?"
She nods and smiles, then bends and picks him up. She kisses him, then hands him over. I cuddle the baby, who continues to stare up at me. He smiles suddenly, and my heart melts further. "What’s his name?"
"It’s Matthew, but I call him Matty." She beams.
I carry the kid inside and the women follow with the pram. "Hey, baby, you’re such a cutie pie." He blows a bubble, then raises his hand and tugs on my hair.
"Oh, Matty, don’t do that." Summer walks over and tries to disentangle my hair from his little fist, but I laugh.
"It’s fine, really." I sit down in one of the armchairs and continue to gaze into Matty’s startling blue eyes. They are clear in the way babies’ eyes can be. He pulls on my hair again, and when I lower my head, he bats at my cheek with his other hand. He gurgles, and a wave of love overpowers me.
I rub my cheek against his hair and breathe in his fresh baby smell. Baby powder and milk and that indefinable something that's innocent and intangible and yet, so evocative.
"He likes you," Summer says in a soft voice.
I glance up to find the two of them are standing. "Oh please, sit down. Sorry I didn’t ask you to make yourselves comfortable. Little Matty distracted me."
"You’re good with kids." Summer takes a seat on the settee.
"I took care of my sister, after my mother passed," I murmur.
"I’m sorry; that must have been difficult for you." Her tone is sympathetic.
I shake my head and slide my finger into Matty’s little fist. "It was a long time ago."
"Where is your sister?" Zoey wanders around the apartment. Most of the furniture was left by the previous occupant, and the rest of the stuff belongs to Felix. Except for the paintings on the wall and the overloaded bookcase I rescued when my neighbor threw it out.
"She’s at the Royal Ballet School."
"She must be very talented," Summer says with a smile.
"She is." I tickle little Matty’s stomach, and he laughs. I can’t stop myself from laughing with him.
"This is striking." Zoey comes to a halt in front of the painting on the wall next to the bookcase.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
She shoots me a glance over her shoulder. “Did you paint it?”
