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“I respect that.” I look between them. I could do with some guidance right now. Maybe they can give me some insight into Quentin that’d help me decide on how to respond to his proposal? “Somehow, the fact that you won’t share the details of his story gives me the confidence to share how he and I met.”
Zoey sits down on the other side of the baby. "Why? Did you have an interesting meet-cute?"
"You could say that." I chuckle.
"Ooh, tell us, please," she begs.
I sit down in my armchair and cross my legs. I’ve just met these women, but something about them inspires confidence in me. They don’t seem like the type who’d take advantage of my sharing with them. Also, my head’s whirling from everything that's happened so far. Perhaps talking about it will put things in perspective. "I was supposed to marry his son, but he stood me up at the alter. Enter, his father, who offers to marry me." Hearing the words from my mouth makes it all feel real and also, so very unreal. Can this be happening to me? Am I going to go through with this?
"What?" Zoey looks at me wide-eyed. "You were going to marry his son?"
I nod.
"Now you’re going to marry his father?"
"Oh, no, no, I haven’t agreed to anything. Besides, this only happened three days ago."
“Three days?" Zoey bursts out. "You two have known each other for three days?"
I manage a small smile.
Summer’s features take on a contemplative look. "When Quentin called me, it didn’t feel like he’d just met you. In fact, he seemed very concerned about you."
"Not surprising, considering he and his son lowered a double-whammy on me in one day.” I toss my head.
"Woman, all this happened and you’re still standing?" Zoey rises to her feet. "Speaking of, now would be a good time to open that bottle of wine." She reaches for her satchel and pulls out a bottle of red.
I rise to my feet, head to the kitchenette, and grab the wine opener from the drawer. When I turn, I find that Zoey has followed me. She takes the opener from me, and waves toward the living area. "Go on, take a seat. I’ll bring you a glass."
"You’ll find them on the top shelf on the far right." Leaving her to deal with it, I return to my position on the chair.
"This must be a lot. First Quentin and his son, then us,” Summer mutters in sympathy.
"I suppose…" I pull my feet up under me. "I should be freaking out more, but maybe… I’m numb?"
My phone buzzes. I pull it out from the pocket of my jeans and read the message.
Lizzie: I’m coming over!
Shit, I forgot to text her.
Me: Noooo. Sorry. Sorry. I’m good. Summer and Zoey are sweet. I’m hanging out with them. Talk later
Lizzie: *Heart emoji"*
I slide the phone into my jeans’ pocket. The baby starts to fuss again. Summer takes him in her arms, then nods toward the pram. "Can you get me his sippy cup? It’s in the bag hanging over the handle." I head over, fumble around in the bag until I find the cup, then walk over and hand it to her. She uncaps it, and the baby reaches for it and latches his mouth around the spout.
"Gosh, you’re one thirsty boy, aren’t you?" she coos.
"Here’s our sustenance." Zoey hands me a glass of wine and places a glass of water in front of Summer. "She’s the designated driver," she explains, then takes a sip from her own. She sighs. "I needed that." She sits down in the chair next to mine.
I take a small sip from my glass. The taste of plums, cherries, and a hint of pepper underlain with the tannic taste of red wine coats my tongue. "Wow, I’ve never tasted anything like this."
"It’s from Sinclair’s personal collection." Summer laughs. "After not being able to drink while I was pregnant, then breastfeeding this boy, he insists I drink the best.”
"And since she’s driving" —Zoey waggles her eyebrows at Summer—"I get to drink her share, too. But coming back to the subject at hand…" She turns to me. "How do you feel about everything that’s happened so far?"
"Truthfully?" I rub at my temple. "I’m still making sense of it." I look between the women. "Also, I’m not sure I should be sharing all of this with you two, considering we just met, but?—"
