“Yes. Marisol’s with her—I swear, that’s one baby who will probably never have to sleep alone.”
Her mother smiled. “It won’t hurt, sweetie. Loving those babies can’t hurt a thing.”
Erin let out a sigh. “I know. Where’s Rick?” she asked.
“He’s outside with Max. Rafael and Nora are just leaving,” her mom answered as she picked up her grandson.
Nora was heavily pregnant—in her eighth month. The pregnancy hadn’t come as a surprise, but the marriage certainly had. “Can you believe they got married?”
“Rafael and Nora? Yes, I can believe it, easily,” her mom chuckled.
“How do you know these things, Mom?” Erin asked, looking at her mom with narrowed eyes. “Your matchmaking skills are supreme.”
“I had nothing to do with those two,” her mother exclaimed.
“Maybe not, but you seem to know when a couple . . . clicks.”
“Are you referring to Damian and Angie?” her mom asked.
“Well, them, but mostly Nick and Courtney. How did you do that?”
Justine smiled when Jorge Carlos fisted the toy truck and let out a giggle. Erin watched as her mom picked him up and began cooing to him. Her son settled himself against his grandmother’s chest as his eyes found Erin’s and held. Eyes that were so much like his father’s. She sank down on the ground next to them and lifted her finger, smiling indulgently as her son wrapped his fist around it and tried to pull her to him. Like father, like son. “How did you know?” she asked her mom again, holding eye contact with her son, smiling at him.
Her mom kissed the top of the silky head, breathed in his sweet baby smell and looked across at Erin. “I didn’t do a thing. But Nick’s my son, darling, just as this baby is yours. It was easy to see—he loved Courtney practically from the first moment he saw her—all I did was maneuver them together a bit. And hey, if that meant pushing Courtney toward Damian simply to irritate Nick, well then, so be it!” her mom ended with a shrug.
Erin studied her mother, hoping beyond hope that she’d have what it would take to be as good a mother as her own mom had been. “Do you think I’ll really know? That I’ll be able to recognize the things that I need to recognize . . . as a mother?”
“Of course, sweetie! You’re a fantastic mother, and you’re going to continue to be a fantastic mother.”
“You think?” Erin asked as she held her mom’s eyes.
Her mom turned to watch something or someone behind Erin. “Yes, darling, I know you’re going to be the best mom—but right now, why don’t you run along and be the best wife? I’ve got this little darling, and Marisol is watching the baby.”
Erin twisted her head and saw Max watching her. Rick stood behind him, his eyes on his new wife.
“Hey,” Erin said, finding it almost unbelievable that she would still get seismic tremors in her limbs whenever she saw Max watching her with that look in his eyes.
“Hey,” he answered. His gaze left hers and found his firstborn, his features softening as they always did for his children. He studied the situation for a moment and then looked back to Erin, deliberately letting his gaze travel from her head to her toes and back again, stopping to linger on all his favorite places along the way. Then he tipped his head toward the stairway with a heated, unmistakable look in his eye.
“Go on,” her mom whispered.
Erin didn’t need to be told twice. She was about to begin standing when Max tracked over to where she sat and pulled her to her feet.
The momentum slammed her chest into his and as her eyes were caught and held by his dark brown gaze, a flurry of provocative shivers traced down her spine.
She took a deep breath and let out a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
Thank you, God. Thank you!
The End