“Family therapy?” I ask, surprised. I’m positive this isn’t something foster parents normally would do for a child.
“We want to give the girls the best possible chance at this new life they didn’t ask for. And I thought family therapy would help us navigate any speed bumps before it’s too late.”
“Those girls won the foster-parent lottery when they were assigned to you and Lucas.” I hug her, then I get my friends up to speed on how things are going between Garrett and Peony.
“I’m looking forward to introducing the girls to Peony,” Simone tells me. “It might help all of them, in one way or another.”
“I think that would be good for her. She sees other kids at the playground, but Garrett told me she keeps her distance. It’s like she doesn’t know how to interact with them.” I have no idea if that’s normal for someone her age.
“She’s nineteen months old. At that age, toddlers play alongside each other. Parallel play. But they don’t interact and play together until between the ages of two and three years.”
I sip my lemonade and put the glass on the table. “I should probably read up on toddlers and their developmental milestones. So I can help Garrett and have a better idea what I’m doing.”
A sly smile slips onto Simone’s face. “So, you and Garrett, huh?”
I huff a laugh that sounds slightly stilted to my ears. The other four women at the table don’t seem to notice. “You know it’s nothing like that.” Thank the Lord they don’t know of the kissing arrangement between Garrett and me; otherwise, Emily would be planning his and my wedding before I could blink. “Our friendship is the same as it’s always been. And he’s not looking for a relationship right now. Not when his focus is on his book deadline and Peony.”
“He told you that?” Avery asks, the only person at the table who doesn’t know I’ve been in love with Garrett for almost a lifetime. She and Jess didn’t grow up in Maple Ridge. Both of them moved here last year.
“He did. But that’s nothing new. I don’t remember the last time he was interested in being in a romantic relationship.” I really don’t—even though that’s not the Garrett I grew up with. He’d had several girlfriends in high school and college prior to him and Kenda becoming a couple.
But after that? After he retired from the Marines?
Nothing—other than the occasional one-night-stand hookup and the time with Kenda that resulted in Peony.
Simone pushes to her feet and picks up the kid-sized travel mugs from the table. “Wonder why that is? It’s not like there’s a shortage of women in Maple Ridge and the surrounding area who are interested in him.” She walks to where she’s set up the blanket for Kylie and Zoe and hands them their lemonades. “And once it gets out that he’s a single dad, his”—she glances down at the two girls and shrugs—“hisyou-know-whatappeal will dial up even more.”
I snort-laugh. “Really? I mean, sure, I can see the appeal. Especially when Peony finally let him carry her last week. It was…appealing.”
“Ovary-exploding appealing?” Avery dances her eyebrows up her forehead.
A dreamy sigh escapes Emily. Like me, she’s currently single, but I can tell from her expression it’s not Garrett she’s sighing over. It’s the otherCarson brother—the one not married or in a committed relationship—she’s thinking about.
“My ovaries didn’t explode.” They totally combusted. “But I’m sure if other women see him carry her, their ovaries will detonate.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind about being in a relationship,” Simone says, a little too optimistically for someone who is deeply in love with her husband. “Maybe one day he’ll decide Peony needs a mother and be more open to the idea of finding someone to fall in love with.”
My heart tightens at that prospect. A prospect that won’t be me—even if we have the kissing arrangement between us. It’s temporary. A dopamine rush. A form of stress release. Nothing more. “Maybe.”
My phone rings in my jeans pocket, and I pull it out without looking at the screen. It’s Abby’s bell tone.
“Sorry, I’ve got to get this,” I tell my friends and answer the call.
“Hey, Zara.” Panic laces Abby’s normally calm tone, and my hackles instantly rise. “We’ve got an emergency at the café.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“It’s raining. Inside.”
Oh. Shit.
32
ZARA
I wakeup Monday morning to not only the usual aches that hijack my body, but to a pain in my left eye, like something is jabbing at it. Tears flow down my face and my vision is slightly blurry.
I groan, wishing I didn’t have to get up yet, but I have a meeting with Troy and Mr. Cartwright in an hour, to discuss the damage to Picnic & Treats. A burst pipe in the ceiling caused Saturday’s unexpected rainstorm.
