Page 77 of Summer with the Single Dad

But Justine couldn’t move.

Just like the boys watching their friend turn from sky blue to cobalt, she was frozen.

All she could hear now was the pounding of her pulse in her ears as her heart thundered against her ribcage. The world around her turned into a colorful blur. Nobody had a face. Then someone ran past her, knocking into her shoulder and jarring her out of her catatonic condition.

When she came to—not that she’d blacked out—she found someone else hammering the heel of his palm into the middle of the child’s back. Out flew the popcorn or whatever he was choking on just as a woman with a flowy skirt and possibly a million bangles on her arms, ran up and scooped the boy into her arms. “Oh, Barnacle. Oh, Barnacle. Are you okay?”

Barnacle?

The man who saved the kid dipped his head when people started clapping. He waved them off, his eyes lasering in on Justine. Or at least she thought he was laser-focused on her. Turned out it was Naomi. His smile grew wider the closer to her he got.

“That was incredible,” she breathed as he stopped in front of her.

He dismissed her praise with a small frown and a headshake. “It was nothing. He is fine now.” Ooh, the man had a thick Italian accent, and the most intense dimples Justine had ever seen. He even had one in his chin. But, of course he did. Three dimples, a lush, thick head of dark hair with plenty of silver, and expressive, hooded, brown eyes. He was a walking, talking, definition of an Italian Stallion. He also appeared to be at least ten years older than Justine and Naomi. Probably late forties. But he looked good. All the women in earshot were gaping at him.

“Ciao, Bella,” he said to Naomi with another, more gallant dip of his head. Then he swaggered off.

“Who was that?” Naomi asked, her mouth open like a codfish.

Justine lifted a shoulder. “By the way, he was looking at you, I thought you knew him.”

Naomi shook her head. “Never seen him before in my life.”

The drama surrounding the choking boy disappeared, but that didn’t mean Justine’s shame over not helping didn’t sucker punch her in the kidneys the moment Naomi cocked her head and twisted her lips, giving Justine a curious look.

“Soooo … what happened back there?” Naomi asked.

Justine dropped her gaze to the grass. “I froze.”

“Yeah, I saw that. You are a doctor, right? Or is it like a PhD doctor? Do you have a doctorate in math? Are you Dr. Algebra?”

“I was a doctor,” Justine said nearly under her breath.

“Oh!” Naomi frowned. “But … you still know stuff, right? Like you don’t just forget how to put in an IV, or stop someone from choking to death?”

It wasn’t Naomi’s fault. She was only asking the questions that a lot of people were probably asking. They were questions that Justine was asking herself. But they were tough questions. Questions she didn’t know how to answer.

And thank god she didn’t have to, because before she could open her mouth—not that she knew what she would say—a soaking wet little boy, maybe ten or eleven, ran up to Naomi with a huge smile on his face. He looked an awful lot like Honor.

Naomi’s face split into a big grin. “You have fun?”

He beamed at her. “It took six people to finally get me in the water.”

She rubbed his wet head. “You remembered to take off your shoes first?”

He nodded, then shook himself like a dog, causing water to fly off in every direction.

“Austin, hey. No thank you,” Naomi said with motherly disapproval. “Not cool, dude.”

“I thought you might want to cool off,” he replied, undeterred by her chastising.

“Where’s your sister?”

“Over with Aya, Talia, and Emme at the bouncy castle.”

“Are you guys hungry for food more filling than snow cones?”

He nodded, still grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah. I want pizza. Have you seen the size of the slices they’re selling from Slice of Heaven?” His eyes expanded. “They’re, like, as wide as my face.”

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