“I gotta get her some lunch,” Morgan said. “You’re welcome to stay, but it’s nothing fancy—”
“I’d love to stay,” I said quickly, ignoring the little voice in my head that warned me to be careful.
“Okay.”
“I just need to make a phone call.”
When Morgan carried Etta into the kitchen, I stepped outside the front door, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and scrolled through my contacts. Inhaling deeply through my nose in an effort to calm my excitement, I called my mother.
“Mom?” I said as soon as she’d answered. “She looks just like Henry.”
Chapter 4
Morgan
Did you have a good sleep?” I asked calmly, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice as I sat Etta in her booster seat at the table.
I zoned out as she answered me, going on and on about her nap using language that only she understood. There were usually a few words I recognized mixed into her long sentences—both in English and Spanish thanks to Carmen’s tutelage—but for the most part I just let her go on and on describing who-knew-what.
I smiled and nodded as her rambling continued, but my heart was thumping hard as I moved around the kitchen, waiting for Trevor to come back inside. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said that I’d expected someone from Henry’s family to show up. The life insurance policy he’d left us was no joke—it was a huge amount of money, and I knew that would raise some questions. However, I hadn’t really expected them to want anything to do with us.
The Harris family was kind of incredible, though. I’d realized that during the summer I’d lived with them. They were kind and funny and inclusive, and they were the best foster family I’d ever been placed with. But along with those attributes, they were also fiercely protective of their own. It wasn’t a bad thing—far from it. If anything, it was another point in their favor. But learning that one of their kids had a child they’d never met probably didn’t paint me in a very favorable light.
“Sorry about that,” Trevor said as he walked slowly into the kitchen behind me. His deep voice was tentative, like he was afraid I was going to kick him out of my house at any moment.
“No worries,” I replied, swallowing hard as I glanced over my shoulder. He had no idea how badly I’d needed those few moments of privacy to get my shit together. “Sandwiches and bananas for lunch, if you’re hungry.”
“Sure,” he said, his kind stare focused on Etta as she pushed her disheveled hair out of her face. The blond strands were so fine that I had a hard time keeping it pulled back, and every time she brushed it out of her eyes it slowly moved right back to where it was to begin with.
“She looks a lot like Henry,” Trevor said, glancing at me quickly with a grimace.
“It’s fine,” I assured him with a small shake of my head and a smile. “She knows who her dad is—was. And yeah, she does look a lot like him.”
“Henwyetta,” Etta said, pointing to herself. “Me Henwyetta.”
“That’s a very pretty name,” Trevor said seriously, and I got the feeling that he was avoiding my gaze on purpose as he sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.
“It’s weird, right?” I said, turning back toward the counter to finish the sandwiches. It was weird, and my family had tried to talk me out of it. I shrugged, even though I wasn’t sure if he was looking. “She has my last name, so I just figured that, I don’t know, she should have something of his, too.”
“No, no, not at all,” Trevor argued. “It’s cool of you.”
“Well, it’s hers for life now,” I joked uncomfortably. “So…”
“You never know,” he replied, his voice light. “Maybe she’ll change it to something else when she’s older. The Artist Formerly Known As or something.”
“You like Prince?” I asked, relieved to find a way to change the direction of the conversation. This was by far the most uncomfortable situation I’d ever been in, and that included the day I’d had to tell Hen I was pregnant.
“Everyone likes Prince,” Trevor replied.
Then it was nothing but silence. Even Etta was quiet as she waited for her food, which was pretty unusual for her. I had a feeling that she was too busy looking over the stranger sitting at our kitchen table to bother with her normal commentary.
Finally, Trevor spoke again. “I’m actually more partial to country music,” he said, filling the silence.
“Really?” I scrunched my nose as I turned my head to look at him.
“What? That surprises you?” he joked, glancing down at himself.
“I’m surprised when anyone says they prefer country music,” I said drily, taking the time to look him over. “Did your girl run off with your dog and leave you with the trailer-house mortgage?”
Trevor scoffed as I placed sandwiches and bananas on plates.
“It’s not all about runaway women and dogs,” he replied. “Some of it is about cheating, too.”
“I stand corrected.” I passed out the plates and grabbed Etta’s juice from the fridge before sitting down across from Trevor at the table. “Small bites,” I warned Etta as she picked up a quarter of her sandwich.
“I stopped by your old place,” Trevor said as he picked up his banana. “You, uh, might want to tell that guy not to give out your information to people. Not that I think you have anyone looking for you, or whatever, I mean—”
I laughed as he tried to backpedal, his face tightening in mortification.
“No, I get it,” I cut him off, raising a hand to stop him. “That’s Craig. He’s my old roommate’s boyfriend. He’s actually not the idiot that he seems, and he wouldn’t just give out my address to anyone.”
“He was pretty free with the information,” Trevor said cautiously. “I thought he said his name was Linc.”
“Craig Lincoln,” I replied, taking a bite of my food. “And you said the magic word—Henry.”
“You were really expecting one of us to show up, huh?” he said softly.
“I was reasonably sure someone would, yes,” I answered, leaving out the fact that I’d be dreading it for over a month. “We’d already moved when I got the news.” I took a deep breath, remembering the way that life insurance letter had completely blindsided me. “I think it took a while for things to be forwarded. Anyway, I called them and let them know that someone might come looking.”
“Thank you.”
“Tanks!” Etta said, as if Trevor’s words had reminded her that she should have used her manners when I’d given her lunch.
“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling at the peanut butter and jelly smeared across her cheeks. “Is it good?”
“Mmm,” she hummed, nodding. “Bueno.”
We finished up lunch and Trevor got to watch as I wiped Etta down from hairline to neckline, and cleaned her hands from fingertips to elbows while she whined. It never failed—she couldn’t keep her mess to a minimum, but she couldn’t stand the cleanup afterward and she made sure I knew it.
“There,” I said, raising my hands in the air above my head like a calf roper in a rodeo. “All clean.”
“Down!” Etta demanded, not willing to forgive me just yet. “Me down!”
“Good grief,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I teased in a singsong voice. “You’re such a baby.”
“Me no baby!”
“Hey,” I said, glancing at Trevor in embarrassment. “Mama was teasing. Stop it.”
“Me no baby,” she said again, her lips puckered in a mutinous pout.
“Are you a lady?”
“No!”
“Are you a woman?”
“No!”
“Well, what are you, then?” I asked as I unbuckled her from her seat.
“Me a big girl,” she said, popping her thumb into her mouth as I gave her a cuddle.
“You’re Mama’s big girl,” I said, rocking her from side to side. I knew I shouldn’t have baited her, but sometimes I couldn’t help it. Maybe it made me a shitty mother, but God, someti
mes it was just funny to annoy her. Lately, though, she’d been a little more sensitive to the whole baby/big girl thing. I was pretty sure it was because she was getting more teeth and everything made her more emotional when she wasn’t feeling good.
I set her on the floor and let her wander off as I grabbed the washcloth and started wiping up her place at the table. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to my unexpected guest now that he wasn’t occupied with my lame attempt at a meal.
“Uh, I should probably get going,” Trevor said, standing up. “I didn’t mean to stay so long.”
“Oh.” I looked up in surprise and nodded. He’d been kind of quiet, and we’d run out of awkward conversation, but his announcement still seemed a little abrupt.
I followed him to the front of the house and watched as he crouched down in front of Etta, who ignored him as she sat on the floor playing. He seemed so massive in our small living room as he said his good-byes to my daughter, but everything about him screamed gentle. That was what I remembered most about him from when we were young: his kindness. He never seemed like a pushover, but out of the entire group of Harris and Evans kids, he’d been the most levelheaded and calm one.
“I’m staying at a hotel with a pretty nice P-O-O-L,” he said. I was thankful he spelled the last word. It was smoothly done and I wondered if he had any kids of his own, but I didn’t feel comfortable asking. “If you ladies feel up to it, later or tomorrow, or whenever.”
“Okay, maybe.” I nodded briefly. “How long are you staying in town?”
“My plans are kind of up in the air at the moment.” He raised his hands in an I don’t know gesture.
We stood there looking at each other, and I laughed a little when he didn’t say anything else. “Uh, we should probably exchange numbers or something?”
“Oh, right!” He made a noise in his throat as he searched for his phone, finally pulling it out of one of his pockets and shaking it side to side.
The minute I’d given him my number he was out the door, leaving me standing there unsure what to do with myself.
Someone had finally showed up, just like I’d known they would, but it hadn’t been nearly as painful as I’d been imagining. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But not painful. He’d been nice. Polite even. I really hoped it wasn’t all an act to gain my trust.
With my mind whirling I glanced at Etta, then jogged down the hall to my room, pulled my phone from the charger, and added Trevor to my contacts. Then I dialed my sister.
“Ranna,” I said the minute she answered. “Henry’s brother just left my house.”
“Oh, shit,” she blurted in response. “Hold on a second.”
I waited for her to finish whatever she was doing while I walked back into the living room and dropped to the couch.
“Okay, I’m back.” The noise around her had quieted. “So what happened?”
“He just showed up at my door,” I said, keeping my voice quiet even though Trevor was long gone. “I think he wanted to get a good look at Etta.”
“Are they pissed about the money?”
“Oddly, no.”
“Oh, come on.” She snorted in disbelief.
“No, really,” I replied, my own disbelief coming to the forefront again. “He didn’t even want to talk about it. He actually apologized.”
“For what?”
“For Henry.”
My baby sister was quiet for a moment. “That’s really weird.”
“I kind of thought so, too. But he seemed pretty pissed that Henry wasn’t around.”
“Well, the guy is dead.”
“Miranda,” I snapped.
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” My little sister didn’t really have any connection to Henry beyond knowing that he was Etta’s dad and that he’d bailed on us. His death hadn’t affected her in any way that mattered, and sometimes she was really insensitive when he was brought up in conversation. I couldn’t really blame her. I would have felt the same way if the shoe was on the other foot.
“So, what? He just stopped by to say hello?” she asked.
“I think he wanted to get a good look at me and Etta.”
“Morgan,” she said in warning.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
We’d discussed how Henry’s family would handle knowing that he had a daughter numerous times since I’d found out about his death. While I knew logically that they didn’t have any grounds to try to take her, the thought still made me nervous. Miranda, too. We’d seen how the system worked, and it wasn’t always in the best interest of the child or the parent, no matter how well-intentioned child advocates were. There were just so many kids who fell under their care that it was impossible to do the right thing for every single one, no matter how hard they tried. We’d lived that firsthand, and while everything had worked out in the end for us, it had taken a long time before we’d felt secure again.
“He said they’d like to get to know us,” I said, watching as Etta lined up her dolls on the floor. “I think they’re just curious.”
“You don’t know these people,” she argued, her voice hardening. “You might remember them as good, but it’s been ten years.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promised, smiling at Etta as she handed me her least favorite doll to play with.
“Good. So, what’s the brother like?” she asked.
“Nice. Kind of quiet. Nervous. Older than us.”
“That tells me exactly nothing.” She laughed. “Does he look like Henry? Yum.”
I snorted and made Etta’s doll dance when she glanced over her shoulder at me.
“No, they’re adopted, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He’s still hot, though,” I conceded.
“Yes!”
“You’re a train wreck,” I joked.
“Yeah, yeah. So what’s he look like?”
“Black,” I said, picturing Trevor in my mind. “Gorgeous. Big brown eyes, crazy thick eyelashes, huge smile, broad shoulders—”
“How’s his ass?”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, sister!”
“You could bounce a franking quarter off of it, okay?”
Miranda laughed. “I knew you checked.”
“Of course I did, I’m not blind. But it’s a non-issue. Don’t be weird about it.”
“Hey, this is a purely academic conversation,” she argued. “I’m not saying you have to bang the guy.”
“Oh, God,” I mumbled, my cheeks growing warm at just the thought of it. It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone, and no one, including the father of my child, had been as appealing to me as Trevor Harris. He was really good-looking, that was undeniable, but there was something else that just seemed to do it for me. I wasn’t sure what it was—the way he held himself, or the courteous way he tried to make me comfortable, or something I couldn’t even pinpoint—but hell, he did it for me in a big way.
“Oh, shit,” Miranda said, cackling. “You totally want the brother!”
“I do not!” I snapped back.
“Yes, you do! I can tell!”
“You are never meeting him,” I mumbled, just imagining how that conversation would go.
“I could,” she said, her laughter dying down. “You never know.”
“He said the family would like to get to know us,” I replied, biting at my lip in anxiety.
“Hey,” Miranda said soothingly, hearing the way my tone had changed. “As long as they’re on the up-and-up, that’s a good thing, right? We talked about this.”
“You can’t have enough family,” I replied, not surprised that the minute I sounded nervous she tried to calm me down.
“Exactly. If something happened to me and you—”
“Don’t say that.”
“If she needed them for some reason, it’s good that they want to be around.”
“You’re righ
t,” I said, sliding down on the couch until I was flat on my back. “I know you’re right.”
“Hard to let people into the circle of trust, though,” she said understandingly.
“Seriously.”
“Can we please get back to the hot brother now?” she whispered, like it was a secret.
I giggled and rolled to my side to watch Etta play. “Well…did I tell you he has a franking beard?”
“Oh, God,” my sister replied, dragging out the last word like a moan.
“He asked us to go swimming at his hotel while he’s here,” I whispered so Etta wouldn’t hear me.
“Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking about it, though. It seems like it would be less weird than having him come to the house again.”
“And you could see him in a pair of swim trunks.”
“Right, because that is what’s most important.”
“Well, it’s not unimportant, either,” she replied. I could just imagine her shrugging her shoulders like perving on my daughter’s uncle was a totally reasonable thing to do.
Just as I was about to reply I noticed Etta’s face scrunched up in concentration and I quickly pushed myself off the couch.
“I gotta go,” I told Miranda as I grabbed Etta by the hand. “I need to bring Etta to the bathroom.”
“No bathwoom!” Etta argued, trying to pull her hand from mine.
“Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said, laughing.
I disconnected and got Etta to the bathroom just in time for her to look at me triumphantly.
Oh, yeah. Trevor’s good looks were super important, I thought as I brought Etta into our bedroom to change her diaper. Almost as important as somehow convincing my daughter that pooping on the toilet was fun.
Chapter 5
Trevor
As soon as I stepped into my hotel room and realized that I had absolutely nothing to do except sit there and wonder how in God’s name my little brother had left those two females without a backward glance, I wished I hadn’t left Morgan’s house. Even the awkward silences and the feeling of being a weird spectator in their life had been better than the thoughts racing through my head now.
Heart of Glass Page 5
