They both laughed. The deep, rich sound of Quint’s laughter brought Amara up short. When was the last time she heard him laugh? She couldn’t remember.
And so she laughed longer, just to hear him join her.
Hampton smiled, as if he appreciated the humor. The smile grew wider, and he made a chirping sound. Then the smell hit.
“Ohhh, no,” Amara said. “Looks like it’s time for Daddy to have his first chance to change his son’s diaper.”
“My pleasure,” Quint said, and called the attendant to bring the bag of Hampton’s things that they’d brought on the trip with them.
Together, Amara and Quint changed their son’s diaper and then dressed him in his own clothes and wrapped him in his own blanket.
When Amara pulled out Hampton’s favorite rattle, he snatched it out of her hand and shook it like he’d never been without it. Amara’s heart soared. He was still himself. He was undamaged and whole.
She wanted to share everything with Quint, but when it was time to feed her baby, she wanted to do it herself. She’d missed the ritual like she’d miss breathing if were taken from her.
Hampton lay cradled in her arms, his plump, red lips pursed around the bottle’s nipple, formula frothing lightly at the corners of his dear, little mouth. He stared up at his mother, locking gazes in a bond as old as time.
“I love you,” she told him, and a thrill of completion passed through her.
Quint had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and he also gazed down at the trusting, suckling infant.
“I love you,” he said.
Amara smiled, happy to hear Quint could say that to his son.
“I love you,” he repeated, but it was different, the way he said it that time. It had a warmth and different intimacy to it.
She couldn’t have said for certain, but she thought it might have been meant for her.
Chapter Thirty Eight
IN ONLY A FEW DAYS, Hampton had gotten used to Quint, and was at ease. His odd little signals of approval, laughing and smiling when he was held, kicking his little feet, started almost immediately after they arrived at Quint’s hotel suite.
Now that they were back in America, the events of the last few weeks hardly seemed real to Amara. She felt as if she’d come out of some movie-inspired dream and was waking up to reality.
While Quint and Hampton got along wonderfully, Amara found herself chewing over the future. Even sitting across the table from them in the hotel seemed foreboding, though she wrote it off as idle worry brought on by all she’d endured in Montevideo.
But what did the future hold? And more importantly, what did she want it to hold?
When the phone beeped in her pocket, she quickly brought it out and stared down, oddly desperate for a distraction from the thoughts spinning in her mind. Kari’s message was simple:
Is it okay to call?
Rather than sending a text back, Amara excused herself and stepped into the bedroom she’d been using, closing the door softly behind her before dialing Kari’s number.
No pleasantries were necessary. The relief and excitement were apparent in Kari’s voice. “I’ve been so, so worried about you! You got back day before yesterday, and you haven’t been in touch since! What’s been going on?”
Amara sat down in one of the comfortable easy chairs in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and stared out over the city. “I … uh … I’ve been at Quint’s hotel room with Hampton. I don’t want to go home just yet. They don’t know I’m back at the university, so I’m trying to stay a little quiet there, too. I need some time to take stock after everything that happened.”
“That makes perfect sense. What about Raneesha?”
“Has she been bothering you?”
“No, you know I love your momma. She worries, that’s all.”
“Momma knows I’m back in town,” Amara said. “I took Hampton over yesterday for a short visit, and we’ve got plans to meet up soon, but I’m having a hard time, Kari.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t this kinda what you were after the whole time? You’ve got your boy back, and Quint’s all right. Aren’t you happy?” Kari sounded confused, and almost in disbelief.