31. Zara
ZARA
“This is Kylie.” Simone points to the six-year-old standing in front of me on the grass. Big blue eyes stare at me, heartbreak glistening in them.
Simone then points to the younger girl. “And this is Zoe.” The blue eyes of the blond two-year-old are no different than her sister’s, prompting me to want to hug the two girls.
A bright-pink scar cuts across Kylie’s forehead, near her hairline, the ends dipping like an upside-down smile. It’s the only visible scar I can see on her, a symbol of the accident that claimed their parents’ lives. It’s the invisible scars, though, that will mark them forever.
Kylie tugs nervously on one of her long dark-blond braids. Her other arm is protectively around her sister’s shoulders, as if she’s afraid if she lets go of Zoe, she’ll lose her like they lost their parents.
I kneel to their level, my body bitching at how bad an idea that is. I ignore it. It’s a little grumpy from the renovations I was doing this morning. “It’s nice to meet you two.”
Zoe looks away, Snowball snaring her attention. The white cat is crouching in the grass, getting ready to pounce on something. Most likely a cricket.
Kylie nods at me but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes say it all. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. Like Peony, they lost their parents not that long ago. A car accident. But unlike Peony, they had no family to take care of them. No nanny who was familiar to them.
Snowball is too much of a draw for Zoe, and the little girl slips out from under her sister’s arm and wanders over to the cat. Kylie follows after her.
I awkwardly try to stand, the pain in my knees and hips flaring from the movement.
Simone’s hand hooks under my arm, and she helps me to my feet. “You okay?”
I roll my eyes like a sassy teen, even though my body feels like it belongs to someone six times that age.
“I just slept funny. And I was working on the renovations earlier. My body isn’t used to all that exercise.
” I chuckle, my laugh genuine. “I’m not like your husband and Garrett, Kellan, and Troy with their brutal runs. ”
She flashes me a look that says she gets what I mean, but at the same time she doesn’t buy my excuse. She knows there’s more to it than I’m letting on.
The creak of the side gate leading to the backyard saves me from having to spill my secrets.
Emily, Jessica, and Avery walk through the archway, carrying dishes to add to the ones already on the patio table. The guys are away for the weekend and Avery’s boyfriend, Noah, is working the afternoon shift at the police station.
Zoe’s attention shifts from Snowball to Bailey, who is wearing her Service Dog in Training vest, and she runs over to Jess’s dog. Kylie trails after her like a watchful parent, her guarded expression dropping as soon as she spots Jess’s golden retriever.
Simone introduces Emily, Jess, and Avery to the girls, though I’m not sure Kylie heard any of the names. She’s watching Bailey with rapt interest. Jess explains to the girls that Bailey is currently on duty and what that means.
“So Jasper can’t play with her?” Kylie’s gaze goes to the house where Jasper, Simone’s golden Labradoodle, is currently standing by the patio door, eagerly waiting to join us .
“No,” Simone explains, “but we can let Jasper out to play with you if you’d like.”
Kylie enthusiastically nods, the heartbreak in her eyes softening a smidgen.
We watch as the two girls play catch with Jasper. Kylie throws the ball, and Jasper chases after it. His antics have the girls laughing, and a relieved smile eases onto Simone’s face.
“Jasper has been a lifesaver,” she explains. “Kylie talks to him more than she talks to Lucas and me. She’s been through so much. But at least she can vocalize her needs. Most of the time. Zoe can’t, but she seems to be adjusting to the situation better than her sister.”
Jess pours a glass of lemonade from the pitcher and hands it to Emily. “Are they seeing a therapist to help them cope?” She grabs another glass and fills it.
“The child welfare agency gave us a list of resources for helping the girls, but I’m looking into private counseling for them. It’s helped Lucas and me cope with the loss of Lily. And I thought we could also try family therapy.”
“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—“his you-know-what appeal 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 other Carson 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.