Page 41 of One More Heartbeat
“Would you be able to give me an estimate for the renovations I’m looking at doing?” I ask Troy. “In case I get the lease approved on the space.”
“Sure. I can come over tomorrow afternoon. Say around one?” He grabs one of the cheesy Creole shrimp toasts from the plate on the coffee table and takes a bite.
“That would be great. Thanks, Troy.” I turn to Garrett, who still looks a little unsettled by everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. “Does that time work for you with me meeting Peony?”
“It should. We can go to the hotel at eleven. I’ll check with Athena if that works with Peony’s schedule.”
“And then the four of us can go to P&T for lunch. I bet after you give her one of my desserts, your daughter will be less shy with you.” I flash him a grin and give his hand a quick squeeze. “So…does anyone else have any secrets they should share with us before we find out the hard way?” My question rolls out on a chuckle, and my gaze lands on each of my friends in turn.
Simone and Lucas exchange a knowing glance. That gets us all sitting up a little straighter, anticipation for their news an electrical current in the air.
An easy smile spreads across Lucas’s face. “We found out this afternoon, we’ve been approved to be foster parents. We’ll be getting the two girls next week.”
Emily and I shriek, our grins uncontained. They’ve been discussing becoming foster parents for the past year, after Lucas learned about the car accident more than ten years ago that robbed them of their unborn child and resulted in Simone having an emergency hysterectomy.
“Congratulations,” I tell them, my grin still in place.
“Two? And I thought I’d be busy with a toddler.” Garrett laughs, the rough, rumbled sound that hits me straight between the legs like the stroke of a finger along my pussy.
I shift, attempting to ease the effect that sound has on me.
“The youngest is two and a half,” Simone explains, “so maybe we can have playdates with your daughter, once she gets more settled.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Then you can help me figure out what the hell I’m doing.”
Lucas snorts a laugh. “I think we’ll be figuring this all out together. Simone and I have taken the required foster care classes, but we’re also new to this parenting thing.”
I nudge Garrett in the side with my elbow. “If you need help with Peony…I might not know a lot about being a parent, but I do know about being an aunt to a young toddler.”
“I’m also available if you need any pointers,” Jess adds. “I had two glorious years with my daughter until I had to give her up. I remember a thing or two about that age.” Troy presses another kiss to her temple, knowing Jess still hurts from what happened in her life prior to moving to Maple Ridge.
“Thanks. I’ll take any help I can get. I’ve already faced my first toddler meltdown, and something tells me it won’t get any easier.”
In all the years I’ve known Garrett, this is the first time I’ve seen him look so beautifully, heartbreakingly lost. A tugging in my gut warns me there’s more to it than just Kenda’s death and finding out he’s a father.
It’s the same unexplainable tugging I have felt for several years now, ever since he retired from the Marines. Every time I bring up his time in the military, he changes the topic, shuts me down.
Or acts like I’m imagining things.
But I know the truth. Something happened while Garrett was overseas, something that made him feel adrift—and one day, I hope he tells me what that was.
15
ZARA
The next morning,I’m making jambalaya, the international special of the day, when Clara pokes her head through the kitchen doorway. “Hey, Zara. Garrett’s here.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
The door closes behind her as she goes off to presumably relay my message.
I untie my apron. “Everything’s good to go,” I tell Abby, who is taking over for me in the kitchen. “Text me if anything comes up before I get back.”
She walks to the stove where the jambalaya is cooking. “Go! Enjoy the rest of your day, and don’t worry about this place.”
Ha!As if that’s possible. The place is part of me, like my bones are part of my body. Even when Picnic & Treats is closed, I’m thinking about it. Thinking about what new things I can try with the menu. What I can post on social media. What I can do to make my customers, who are like family to me, happy.
I hang my apron on the hook by the door and enter the main part of the café. Garrett is standing near the counter, worry crinkling his brow.
