Page 64 of Foster

“You coddle him,” I tease. “You know he can take care of himself.”

“Not so sure he can.” She laughs. “You know… you’re a nurturer just like me. There was a time when I thought you two would fall in love, marry and then you’d be cooking for him.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Eww. Marry Leo? He’s a slob and irresponsible.”

“But you love him all the same,” Mom points out. “So it wasn’t unreasonable for me to assume that. But yes, I can see that you two are not well matched at all.”

Yes, I love Leo like he was my own brother, but we’d kill each other within twenty-four hours if we lived together.

“You’re a great mom,” I tell her with a pointed look. “Leo’s lucky to have you to look after him.”

Leo’s mom was pretty much absent his entire life. She took off when he was little and his hardworking dad did the best he could, raising a young boy on his own. Of course, once we became friends, Leo was here as much as he was at his own house. My parents never minded because, as they would often say, “Once you have four boys, a fifth is just no bother.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” my mom muses.

“Wonder about what?” I ask.

“If I’m a great mom.”

My jaw drops, brow furrowing deep. “Why would you ever wonder that? You’re the best mom ever.”

She lifts a shoulder and runs a fingertip along the rim of her glass as she ponders. “I wasn’t always around.” Her gaze lifts to mine and her smile is wan. “You had to fend for yourself. I wonder if that’s why you love to nanny. To make up for what you didn’t have.”

My hand shoots out and grabs hers, almost knocking over the sweet tea. “Mom! You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m so proud to have had a career mom and you were around when it was important. You came to all my school functions, my performances, and you were there to tuck me in and read me stories and go on weekend adventures. You’re the one who showed me to follow my passion, which is exactly why I am a nanny. You taught me I could be whatever I wanted, and I’d never change a single thing about my childhood. I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

Tears well in my mom’s eyes but she doesn’t let them spill. I hear the gratitude in her voice. “Thank you. And you’re going to be an amazing mother one day. Look at all the practice you’ve already had with the boys and the kids you’ve cared for.”

I have no clue why at the mention of me being a mother it’s Bowie Jane’s face that swims before me. That dimpled little smile, her sweet but tight hugs where she tries to lift me from the floor because she thinks she’s super strong but can’t even come close. The way she cuddles into me when we read.

It’s impossible to stop the smile on my face as I think of the little girl who’s wormed her way into my heart with such ease.

The doorbell rings and a zing of anticipation runs through me. That would be the little girl who makes me think of motherhood and her hot dad who has somehow put a hook in my heart as well.

Mom jumps up, eager to meet them both. Foster is on her radar because we’re dating, and we talked about him a lot today. She’s well aware that my feelings run deep. And she’s dying to spend time with Bowie Jane because my mom loves children and she’s ready to be a grandma. She bemoans that to Tim and Brian all the time and she knows how smitten I am with this little girl.

I stand from the table and casually follow her through the living room, hanging back a bit when she opens the door.

Foster is who I see first because he’s so tall. As always, I’m taken by how handsome he is and I love that he didn’t shave this morning. I shamelessly told him last night that I liked the feel of it between my legs more than the clean-shaven face and his expression was so predatory, I almost went up in flames from that look alone.

Everything about him pushes all my buttons. He’s in a well-fitted pair of dark blue jeans, slightly faded at the knees, and a long-sleeve T-shirt in a deep charcoal that hugs his torso enough to show the muscle underneath. The sleeves are casually rolled up to mid forearm and damn, does he have amazing arms. His Apple Watch, always on his wrist, glints in the late-afternoon sun hitting the porch.

Bowie Jane stands at his side, her long hair up in a high ponytail. She’s got on a bright, patterned, long-sleeved top we bought on a quick shopping trip last week with a zip-up fleece vest in a vibrant turquoise, which is her favorite color. So far, all attempts to talk Foster into painting her walls that color have been met with resistance, but she’ll keep working on him. Slung over her shoulder is a red sequined Minnie Mouse backpack she got on a trip to Disney a few years ago. It’s frayed and some of the sparkles have fallen off, but she loves that thing. Inside I can guarantee she has a sketch pad and lip gloss, the two things she never leaves home without.

“Come in, come in,” my mom gushes as she scoots back.

Bowie Jane and Foster step over the threshold, his hand on her shoulder. His eyes meet mine and with hardly a twitch to his facial muscles, we share a connection.

A clear message. Hi again… I missed you today.

“You must be Bowie Jane,” my mom coos as she bends at the waist. “I’m so excited to meet you. Mazzy talks about you all the time.” She straightens, holds her hand out to Foster. “And it’s nice to meet you, Foster.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Archer,” he says with a charming smile.

My mom waves a hand. “Please… call me Megan.”

“Megan’s a pretty name,” Bowie Jane says, her head tipped up at my mom.

“That’s Mrs. Archer to you,” Foster reminds her with a playful tug on her ponytail.

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