Heart of Glass (Fostering Love 3)

“Sorry, sweet thing,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Is it working?” I asked Morgan.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “But I found a twenty in my jeans yesterday, and I know I didn’t put it there.”

“He’s giving it back?”

“Probably,” she grumbled.

“Your dad sounds like a good guy.”

“He is,” she said. “The best.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“When’s that happening?” she asked. “I told him today that you guys would be visiting pretty soon.”

“My mom wants to drive down Friday.”

There was a long pause before she replied. “She’s not wasting any time.”

“I told you,” I reminded her, trying not to get defensive at her tone. “We’ll get settled and then I was hoping we could see you on Saturday?”

“Sure, we don’t have anything planned this weekend. Do you know how long you’re staying?” The question sounded a little strained.

“I didn’t ask, but I’m guessing only a few days. I have to get back to work, so we can’t stay too long.”

“Work? What’s that?” she teased.

Even though I’d heard the anxiety in her voice when we discussed the visit, Morgan and I still talked for almost two hours while Arie sat wide awake on my lap. It got later and later, and I knew I should let her get some sleep, but I couldn’t make myself get off the phone. I was learning things about her that I wouldn’t have known if we’d been getting to know each other any other way. Talking with her long distance changed the way we interacted. There were no barriers to the things we shared, no embarrassment. It was as if the distance between us gave us a free pass to actually be ourselves instead of the polished versions we showed the world. The only thing we didn’t discuss—that we never discussed—was Henry.

I’d been around her in person only for a single day, but as I got off the phone that night, I realized that I missed her.

Oh, and my voice eventually soothed Arielle to sleep.

Chapter 10

Morgan

Why are you so damn nervous?” my dad asked me on Saturday morning, mimicking me by flapping his arms while he spun in a circle. “They’re the ones who should be nervous. You hold all the power here, kiddo.”

I knew that. It sure didn’t feel like I had any power, though.

The night before when Trevor texted that they’d arrived safely, I’d almost called and asked him to come over. Instead, I’d chickened out and called my baby sister so I could listen to her chatter for over an hour. When I’d gone to bed with her positive affirmations in my head, I’d felt calm.

As soon as I’d woken up in the morning, though, all that calm was gone. I was a jittery mess. Thank God my dad had no idea that most of my nerves came from the fact that I was about to see Trevor again. Trevor, who was built like a tank and had the biggest smile I’d ever seen. Trevor, who’d confessed to me that his mom was his absolute favorite person on the planet even though he was pretty sure that made him a mama’s boy. Trevor, who I knew was off-limits but I couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Twevo,” Etta said for the hundredth time that morning. “Twevo coming.”

“Yep,” I answered, glancing around the house to make sure nothing was out of place.

My dad’s house was small, and old, and it showed. But the man had always taken pride in the place, and that showed, too. He’d bought it as soon as he’d had a down payment, about six months after we’d moved in with him, and he’d worked his fingers to the bone to pay it off. There were manicured flowers in the front yard, and slightly browned but neatly trimmed grass in the back, and even though he was a bachelor and didn’t keep it as clean as I would’ve, the inside was functional and clearly taken care of.

“Twevo, Mama!” Etta yelled, staring out the front window from where she stood on the couch. “Twevo, here!”

“Showtime,” my dad teased, laughing when I glared at him.

I moved slowly to the front door and waited two seconds after the knock to open the door, even though Etta was making an impatient ruckus beside me. There was no need to show my nervousness, after all. I held the power.

I hung on to that sentiment as I met Ellie Harris’s eyes.

“Hi,” I said, barely glancing at her husband and Trevor as I reached down and pulled Etta up onto my hip. “Come on in.”

I held the power. I held the power. I held the power.

“Hi,” she breathed back, taking a step forward as I moved backward into the house to let them in. She seemed mesmerized for a moment as her eyes landed on Etta, then shook her head with a small laugh and looked back at me. “Thank you so much for having us.”