It’s Sophia’s mother.
She smiles wanly and takes the bag. “Well, I can tell you’re a perceptive one,” she sighs. “Do you think we could get a coffee or something?”
My mouth is suddenly dry and I swallow hard.
“You’ll probably have to buy me that too,” I say stupidly.
She presses her lips together, smiling but not smiling at the same time. She looks like someone with a lot on her mind, maybe someone who could use a hug.
“Yes, let’s do that.”
Sophia continues to gurgle and chatter random syllables to herself, banging at the hanging toys as I roll her out of the shop toward small café. Nina leads the way, and I watch her walk. Her body is taut and muscular, much taller than me with that beautiful red hair. It’s too bad Sophia didn’t get that hair, because it really is spectacular.
The thought occurs to me that the brothers probably picked her for that hair. They probably selected her specifically, hoping that Sophia would get red hair. They probably spent a lot of time thinking about…
Okay, I have to stop that, I caution myself. Jealousy will eat you up. Don’t give in.
Nina guides us to a table in the corner, away from the women with babies, the rich kids in their designer sneakers, and the older couples enjoying a shared scone. She sits in the chair and blinks at me, her expression pleasant and unguarded. Still, I can’t imagine what she must be thinking.
“I don’t think Royce would approve of our conversation. I should probably say that right up front,” she shrugs. “If you’re not comfortable with that, I would totally understand if you want to leave.”
“No, I think we’re all right,” I answer, watching the way her eyes change when she finally looks at Sophia. She looks pained, hesitant. Like she knows she’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing.
“You can hold her?... if you want?” I tell her timidly, realizing just how ridiculous that is. I’m telling Sophia’s own mother that she has permission to hold her?
“I’m really not supposed to,” she whispers hoarsely.
“You’re what? Fuck that noise. Here…”
I reach into the stroller, taking Sophia in my arms. She’s popping her lips, so she’ll probably be hungry soon, but we have at least five minutes until she goes ballistic.
Watching the emotions that dash across Nina’s beautiful, movie-star features as she holds her child shatters my heart, over and over again in quick succession. She has obviously not been able to have this connection for quite a while.
It’s a goddamn travesty, is what it is. I find myself completely enraged. Any shred of jealousy I felt has been pulverized to dust and replaced with absolute outrage.
“Okay… I didn’t bring a bottle, so we don’t have a lot of time. I guess we’re going to have to keep it short,” I explain. “But something is really fucked up here, pardon my language. Can you tell me what happened?”
Nina is transfixed, awestruck. She gazes into Sophia’s face, balancing her on her legs. She keeps opening her mouth in an exaggerated expression saying Ah! Clapping Sophia’s chubby little hands together, she keeps making the baby giggle.
“This isn’t the guys’ fault,” she finally mutters, guilt in every syllable. “You can’t blame them. It just didn’t work out. It just wasn’t for me. I thought it was, but…”
“So you weren’t run out of town? Forced to join witness protection? Threatened with incriminating photographs or something?”
Nina glances up at me with one eyebrow quirked. A perfect, auburn eyebrow, I should add.
“You have been watching way too many spy movies.”
Or my best friend could be Jack Reacher’s wife, I remind myself.
She resumes playing with Sophia as the waitress brings us a couple of espressos in tiny cups.
“No, this was all me,” she says heavily. “As much as I adore her, I couldn’t promise everything to them, you know what I mean? I couldn’t be mother and wife… and wife, and wife, and wife, and wife. There wasn’t anything left of Nina.”
She stares at me meaningfully, and I shift on the chair, aware my body is barely held together right now. That five-times wifely duty stuff just about tore me apart yesterday, honestly.
“I can see what you’re saying,” I agree timidly. “But… Sophia?”
“Well, let me tell you a story,” she begins wistfully.