Page 65 of Healing Hearts
“This kid is adorable,” Trent says.
“She looks just like her mom probably did at that age. The resemblance is uncanny.”
Trent searches my expression for a beat and then says in a voice pitched much lower than the din of conversation around us, “Who do you think ours will look like?”
We’ve never even stepped around this topic, much less addressed it. I don’t know if he’s thought about it before, but I have.
“I just hope they don’t get saddled with red hair,” I say. “Other than that, healthy is really the only thing I care a lot about.” Ialready spent too many years worrying about the health of my first child.
“I like the Sullivan red,” Trent says, gazing around the room at the various shades that exist in our family.
“It’s just unusual, so people always have comments to make about whether they like it or you get teased for it.”
“I hope they don’t get my dyslexia,” Trent says.
“But we know to watch for it, and we can get the right help as soon as possible.”
“Times have changed, I guess, since I was a kid,” Trent says. “People are a bit more aware of others struggling. That sometimes it’s not that someone won’t, but that they can’t.”
“Maybe getting Maggie to help you learn how to read in high school without telling anyone wasn’t the best coping strategy,” I say, “but you knew you needed help, and you sought it out.”
“Definitely should have told my mom. She was really hurt that I kept it from her. Just felt like too much to put on her after my dad died and she was working so much just to keep our life stable.”
“I sometimes wonder how Amir perceives me,” I say. “It’s been a tough couple of years, and I just now feel like I’m coming back into myself. That this version of me is who I should have been all along.”
“Feels good?” Trent asks as Victoria gives me another slobbery kiss and then giggles at the one he gives in return.
“It does,” I say. “The fog is lifting.”
“If I’ve had even an inch of influence on that, I’ll take it.”
“How about seven inches?”
“Six on a good day.” His grin is cocky and knowing.
“We’ll compromise. Six and a half.”
“What are you two over here grinning about?” Maggie asks, collapsing into the seat beside me.
I pray that my cheeks have not gone as red as I suspect they have.
“We were just talking about how quickly things grow,” Trent says, and he wiggles Victoria a little. She laughs. “Like little humans.”
Maggie slides me a look as though she can smell Trent’s brand of bullshit from a mile away. She probably can. They’ve been friends for a long time.
“I’m going to go grab a drink,” I say. “Trent, do you need anything?”
“I’m good,” Trent says, his focus back on Victoria as though we weren’t just sitting there flirting over the length of his penis.
God, what has gotten into me? Aliens must have brought the wrong version of me back to earth. This one is becoming far too obsessed with Trent Castillo.
Maggie leans back in her chair behind her giant desk in the mayor’s office. We’ve met in here once a week for years now. Maggie’s first term was rocky, and when Grady came back to town and tried to run against Maggie to foil her reelection, I wasn’t sure we’d have another four years in this place. As it is, Maggie is a year and a half into her second term.
“So you think rezoning those areas makes sense from a real estate point of view? I don’t want to go into the council meeting without having thought through all the angles.”
“Yes,” I say. “We need more building lots.”
“Tyler and Mia are talking about building on the outskirts of town. There’s some acreage for sale right now. Given how popular the recording studio has become with singers from all over the world, paps come from New York City far too often.”
