Page 49 of Sterling Heat

Facing each other, with Adara cradled between us, we both gaze down at her. Awe fills me one more time like the day she was born. She’s so tiny and sweet and adorable.

Her small fist is wrapped around my heart.

Glancing up one more time at Adara’s mom, I realize Enya holds the same position.

My heart is in her hands, and I don’t know how to feel about this.

Finally, the photographs are finished. “I’ll text proofs to you in about fifteen minutes. They’ll be watermarked but you can share the link with anyone you wish. Buy as many or as few as you want. No obligation.” She’s professional, and without a pushy sales job, because she knows whatever images she sends to new parents, they’ll purchase all of them.

My credit card is already buzzing in my wallet. Even sight unseen, I’ll be buying every one of them.

Unfortunately, another half-hour passes before Adara is placed in her car seat and allowed to go home.

Enya’s home.

I trail behind Enya’s Honda Passport in my truck where my palms sweat on the steering wheel. As we get closer to Route 10 and the farmhouse, nausea hits. I can’t believe I’m headed in this direction, returning to this keeper of bad memories.

Only, when Enya turns onto the gravel drive, and I follow her, the house before me is one I hardly recognize. The roof is black tin. The exterior is bright white with wide vertical siding. The windows are replaced, and wider than I remember, with black trim around the glass. The once broken-down porch is completely rebuilt and widened as well, like a welcoming smile. Nothing is the same on the outside but the general outline hints at the original place.

The harder part will be entering the house, but first I help Enya with Adara in the infant car seat. Following Enya, my breathing shallows. A bead of sweat forms along my temple. Enya unlocks her home by a keypad and struggles a bit with the sticky latch that eventually gives, and she pops open the front door. Once inside, a freshly painted, hardwood staircase is before us. With a quick glance right to left, I take in the living room and dining room on either side of the staircase. The open concept is so different from the original layout that included small, divided rooms.

Enya keeps walking and I blindly follow, blinking at the bright white interior and the overstuffed furniture.

“Is that new?” I nod at a couch that I don’t recall seeing in her apartment.

“My condo was kind of cold and a remnant of a past life.” She shivers. “This is a home. I wanted softer colors and comfy furniture you can sink into. Live in.”

The light gray sectional is certainly inviting. As we round through the living room, I stop short at the sight of her kitchen which runs the entire length of the back of the house. I love my apartment kitchen. I put in high end appliances for small spaces and it’s perfect for me. But Enya’s place is professional grade with a six-burner range, a double oven, and an extra-large refrigerator.

The space is a foodie wet-dream, and she doesn’t even like to cook.

“I don’t plan on leaving here anytime soon, but for resale value, I might have splurged on the kitchen.” Sheepishly, she looks at me.

“It’s fucking gorgeous.” My throat is thick with awe, and I’m not certain if I’m talking about the damn kitchen or the woman looking at me with coffee-colored eyes, that draw me in like the bean-loving addict I am.

“Where do you want me to put her?” I nod toward Adara’s car seat in my hand and Enya chuckles.

“Just set her down anywhere.”

Gently, I place the seat on the floor beside the couch. “I have a few things for you. I’ll be right back.” I duck out to my truck and quickly return with my gifts.

“For me?” Enya blushes at the large bouquet of flowers, similar to what I brought her when she had Adara.

“Welcome home.” The words are bittersweet. I’m happy for her. She’s practically glowing in this space. Her home. Her new life. But I’m not going to remain, and I already feel myself retreating. If I don’t step away soon, I’m going to want something I can’t have. I’m going to ask for something I can’t do, like stay.

After setting a paper shopping bag on the large island countertop, I pull out the items, naming them each. “Bread, wine, and salt.”

Enya tilts her head, giving me a puzzled smile.

“Oh, come on. You had to have seen It’s A Wonderful Life?”

She stares at me, still questioning the reference to a holiday classic.

“Bread.” I lift the loaf I made this morning. “So this house will never know hunger.”

Next, I reach for the saltshaker. “Salt. So this house will always have flavor.”

Lastly, I hold up a bottle of wine. “And wine. For joy and prosperity. Or something like that.” I might not have gotten the quote one hundred percent correct but the point is, I want Enya to be happy and healthy here.