Heart of Glass (Fostering Love 3)

“She looks a lot like Henry,” Trevor said, glancing at me quickly with a grimace.

“It’s fine,” I assured him with a small shake of my head and a smile. “She knows who her dad is—was. And yeah, she does look a lot like him.”

“Henwyetta,” Etta said, pointing to herself. “Me Henwyetta.”

“That’s a very pretty name,” Trevor said seriously, and I got the feeling that he was avoiding my gaze on purpose as he sat down in one of the kitchen chairs.

“It’s weird, right?” I said, turning back toward the counter to finish the sandwiches. It was weird, and my family had tried to talk me out of it. I shrugged, even though I wasn’t sure if he was looking. “She has my last name, so I just figured that, I don’t know, she should have something of his, too.”

“No, no, not at all,” Trevor argued. “It’s cool of you.”

“Well, it’s hers for life now,” I joked uncomfortably. “So…”

“You never know,” he replied, his voice light. “Maybe she’ll change it to something else when she’s older. The Artist Formerly Known As or something.”

“You like Prince?” I asked, relieved to find a way to change the direction of the conversation. This was by far the most uncomfortable situation I’d ever been in, and that included the day I’d had to tell Hen I was pregnant.

“Everyone likes Prince,” Trevor replied.

Then it was nothing but silence. Even Etta was quiet as she waited for her food, which was pretty unusual for her. I had a feeling that she was too busy looking over the stranger sitting at our kitchen table to bother with her normal commentary.

Finally, Trevor spoke again. “I’m actually more partial to country music,” he said, filling the silence.

“Really?” I scrunched my nose as I turned my head to look at him.

“What? That surprises you?” he joked, glancing down at himself.

“I’m surprised when anyone says they prefer country music,” I said drily, taking the time to look him over. “Did your girl run off with your dog and leave you with the trailer-house mortgage?”

Trevor scoffed as I placed sandwiches and bananas on plates.

“It’s not all about runaway women and dogs,” he replied. “Some of it is about cheating, too.”

“I stand corrected.” I passed out the plates and grabbed Etta’s juice from the fridge before sitting down across from Trevor at the table. “Small bites,” I warned Etta as she picked up a quarter of her sandwich.

“I stopped by your old place,” Trevor said as he picked up his banana. “You, uh, might want to tell that guy not to give out your information to people. Not that I think you have anyone looking for you, or whatever, I mean—”

I laughed as he tried to backpedal, his face tightening in mortification.

“No, I get it,” I cut him off, raising a hand to stop him. “That’s Craig. He’s my old roommate’s boyfriend. He’s actually not the idiot that he seems, and he wouldn’t just give out my address to anyone.”

“He was pretty free with the information,” Trevor said cautiously. “I thought he said his name was Linc.”

“Craig Lincoln,” I replied, taking a bite of my food. “And you said the magic word—Henry.”

“You were really expecting one of us to show up, huh?” he said softly.

“I was reasonably sure someone would, yes,” I answered, leaving out the fact that I’d be dreading it for over a month. “We’d already moved when I got the news.” I took a deep breath, remembering the way that life insurance letter had completely blindsided me. “I think it took a while for things to be forwarded. Anyway, I called them and let them know that someone might come looking.”

“Thank you.”

“Tanks!” Etta said, as if Trevor’s words had reminded her that she should have used her manners when I’d given her lunch.

“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling at the peanut butter and jelly smeared across her cheeks. “Is it good?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, nodding. “Bueno.”

We finished up lunch and Trevor got to watch as I wiped Etta down from hairline to neckline, and cleaned her hands from fingertips to elbows while she whined. It never failed—she couldn’t keep her mess to a minimum, but she couldn’t stand the cleanup afterward and she made sure I knew it.

“There,” I said, raising my hands in the air above my head like a calf roper in a rodeo. “All clean.”

“Down!” Etta demanded, not willing to forgive me just yet. “Me down!”

“Good grief,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I teased in a singsong voice. “You’re such a baby.”

“Me no baby!”

“Hey,” I said, glancing at Trevor in embarrassment. “Mama was teasing. Stop it.”

“Me no baby,” she said again, her lips puckered in a mutinous pout.

“Are you a lady?”

“No!”

“Are you a woman?”

“No!”

“Well, what are you, then?” I asked as I unbuckled her from her seat.

“Me a big girl,” she said, popping her thumb into her mouth as I gave her a cuddle.