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Mel is a strange name for such a dainty-looking person. I wonder if it’s a nickname. Before I can ask, she looks up at me with those blue eyes. “Can I hold her? If you don’t feel comfortable, that’s totally okay.”
I withhold a sigh of relief. The chances I have to give my arms and back a break, are few. I’m alone in Ohio, except for the daycare I started using when I went back to work a few weeks ago. Actually, this might be the first time someone has offered to hold Nella for me just because they wanted to. My eyes begin to burn at the realization, and I have to control my facial muscles to keep my chin from shaking. “Yes, of course,” I manage to choke out.
I unbuckle the baby carrier and carefully hand Nella to Mel. I just met the woman, but now I want to be best friends with her.
Mel cradles my baby in her arms, looking at her with all the adoration this little girl deserves. My chest tightens at the reminder Nella doesn’t have any uncles or aunts…or even a father. Not any she’ll ever know, anyway. It’s surprisingly emotional for me to see her being loved on by someone other than me.
Andie leans in and stares at her, using one hand to smooth Nella’s wispy red hair. “She’s gorgeous,” she whispers.
“She really is. I’d die for vibrant red hair,” Noel says, studying Nella.
I chuckle, hoping it doesn’t sound watery. Because my emotions are definitely getting the better of me.
“Come sit with us. We saved seats right in the middle so we can watch the puppy cuteness,” Noel says, waving a hand for us to follow her.
When we make it up to the center of the bleachers and get comfy in our seats—as comfy as one can get on a metal bleacher—the guys walk out onto the ice. They’re in jeans, tennis shoes, and their jerseys. The team walks straight toward the crates and starts interacting with the animals. The dogs wag their tails, excited to make new friends. And the cats hiss and cower, not wanting to be disturbed. This should be interesting.
Noel stares at Colby and sighs.
“You’re a goner,” Mel teases, then snuggles Nella a little closer. Nella is slowly drifting off to sleep in her arms.
Andie, who’s farthest from me, leans over so she can see me past Noel and Mel. “Noel was a little resistant to Colby’s charms at first, so it’s fun to see her all googly-eyed.”
“Really?” I ask, looking at Noel and then at Colby Knight, who’s walking—no, swaggering—across the ice. “But he’s so dreamy.”
Noel smirks and rolls her eyes again.
“How long are you in town?” Mel asks from her seat beside me.
“I have to fly back to Ohio Sunday night.” Does my voice sound as depressed as my heart feels? Oh yeah, my heart. My stomach dips at the reminder that I have my appointment Monday after arriving back home. My heart begins to race with the possibility of being in an operating room. I breathe in a calming breath and push it from my mind, for now.
“Aw, such a short visit,” Andie says, looking at Nella in adoration. “Can I hold her too?”
With a smile, I nod.
Mel narrows her eyes at her friend briefly, but sighs. “Okay, fine. I’ll share the baby cuteness.”
Andie makes grabby hands as Mel adjust Nella so she can hand her off.
Andie snuggles her close and sniffs her hair. “Why do babies always smell so good?”
I scoff. “Trust me, they don’t always smell good.”
The girls laugh. Now that Nella is closer, Noel studies her. “Wow, they’re just so sweet and innocent at this age. It’s nice to know they don’t come out as cocky eighteen-year-olds trying to get out of homework.”
My eyebrows raise slightly, wondering what the hell she’s talking about.
“Noel is a history professor at Arlington U. She has some difficult students,” Mel explains.
Noel blows out a deep breath, as if sloughing off her annoyance. She leans over Andie and Nella to look at me. “What do you do, Amber?”
“I’m a hair stylist,” I say with a smile. I’m proud of what I do, and I’m really good at it. Sure, I’m not thrilled with my current salon, but I love that I get to be creative every day.
“No way!” Noel ruffles her curls. “I wish you lived here. My stylist just retired.”
Mel combs a hand through her curtain bangs. “My last stylist messed up my bangs.”
Andie looks up from the sleeping baby. “I have a stylist who’s great with hair…but she has no filter. She always asks creepy questions about Mitch.”
