Page 72 of His Long-Lost Baby

I follow her inside, mind still whirring. The shop is cool and dim, the air heavy with the scent of sugar and vanilla. Quinn is already at the counter, her nose pressed against the glass case as she studies the different flavors.

“What do you want, sweetie?” I ask her.

She turns to me with a grin. “Mint chocolate chip!”

I nod and turn to the man behind the counter wearing a bright green apron with the shop’s logo on it.

“Two scoops of mint chocolate chip, please,” I tell him.

He nods and starts scooping the ice cream into a waffle cone. Quinn hops from one foot to the other, eyes sparkling with excitement. I can’t help but smile.

As the man hands me the cone, I notice someone walking into the shop out of the corner of my eye. I turn and my heart skips a beat. James.

But then I blink and realize it’s not him, just a man who’s about the same height and build.

Shaking my head, I pay for the ice cream.

“Mom?” Quinn tugs on my arm. “I want to go outside.”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” I reply, following her out of the shop and into the warm sunshine of the backyard. We settle on a bench, Quinn licking her ice cream cone with reckless abandon.

As I watch her, my mind wanders back to James. It’s like he’s haunting me. I wonder what he’s doing, where he is. Is he thinking about me, too?

“There’s Aurora!” Quinn waves at her friend, who is by the sandbox, then takes off to join her.

I stay on the bench, soaking up the sun. It’s a good day. A great day. Quinn is in wonderful health, and we have all our needs taken care of.

I just wish this hole in my heart would heal.

A movement catches my eye and I turn to see a man walking past us on the sidewalk. Just like before, he reminds me of James.

I close my eyes, hating how I’m seeing him everywhere.

“Billie,” a familiar voice says.

Hold on.

I open my eyes a little, wondering if I’m going crazy. But I’m not.

James is standing on the sidewalk, staring at me.

CHAPTER25

JAMES

Billie looks just as surprised to see me as I am her. I thought that I had at least five more minutes to figure out my speech before I arrived at her apartment.

But here she is, sitting on a bench in a sunny yard, looking at me like I’m a ghost.

“What… what are you doing here?” she finally asks.

I inhale deeply, but it still feels like it’s not enough air. “I was actually walking to your place. To, uh, to talk to you. I know I could have called, but it just… it didn’t feel right. I wanted to talk to you in person.”

My pulse is racing, and I feel lightheaded. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this nervous in my life.

Billie looks like she’s about to say something, but then she shakes her head, her expression unreadable.

“Okay,” she finally says.

---