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He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, and then up to her temple, causing those lovely shivers to course across her skin. “In the morning? I could come and collect you and your little boy. We could … visit a park, maybe. A park with swings an
d slides, so he’ll have a chance to play. My little niece and nephew love nothing so much as a few hours in the sunshine, with a sandbox and a slide.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a niece and a nephew.”
He nodded. “My older brother, Max, has two children—say yes to tomorrow.”
“But I already did, didn’t I?”
“Say it again.”
“Yes—and why don’t you come for breakfast first? You can meet my best friend, Lani, who has a degree in English literature, is a fabulous cook and takes care of Trevor while I’m at work.”
“I would love breakfast. And to meet your friend, Lani.”
“I have to warn you. Breakfast comes early at my house.”
“Early it is.”
“Seven-thirty, then.” She took his hand, automatically threading her fingers with his, feeling the thrill of touching him—and also a certain rightness. Her hand fit perfectly in his. “Come on.” She pulled him back toward her car. “I’ll give you my address and phone number.”
“Where’s Michael?” Sydney asked, when she let herself in the house at quarter of eleven and found Lani sitting on the sofa alone, wearing Tweety Bird flannel pajama bottoms and a yellow cami top.
“How was the big date?” Lani asked, with a too-bright smile.
Sydney slipped off her red shoes and dropped to the sofa beside her friend. “It was better than … anything. Wonderful. I’m crazy about him. He’s coming for breakfast at seven-thirty.”
“Good. I can check him out. See if he’s good enough for you.”
“He’s good enough. You’ll see. I thought maybe one of your fabulous frittatas …”
“You got it.” Lani took off her glasses and set them on the side table.
“Hey.” Sydney waited until her friend looked at her again. Then she guided a thick swatch of Lani’s dark, curly hair behind her ear. “You didn’t answer my question about Michael.”
Lani’s big eyes were a little sad, and her full mouth curved slightly down. “Tonight, when I watched you getting ready to meet this new guy, putting on your makeup, fixing your hair, waffling over that perfect red dress …”
“Yeah? Tonight, what?”
“I thought, ‘That. What Syd’s feeling. I want that.’“
“Oh, sweetheart …”
Lani’s shoulders drooped. “And then you left and Michael came over and I thought what a nice guy he is … but I couldn’t go on with him. Because he’s not the guy.” She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Do you know what I mean?”
Sydney reached out. Lani sagged against her and they held each other. “Yeah,” Sydney whispered into her friend’s thick, fragrant hair. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
The next morning, the doorbell rang at seven-thirty on the nose.
“I get it!” Trevor fisted his plump hand and tapped the table twice. “Knock, knock!” he shouted. “Who’s there?”
Sydney kissed his milk-smeared cheek. “Eat your cereal, Bosco.”
“Banana!” Trev giggled. “Banana who?”
Lani said, “The coffee’s ready and the frittata’s in the oven. Answer the door, Syd.”
“Orange. Banana.” Trevor was totally entranced with his never-quite-right knock-knock joke. He banged his spoon gleefully against the tabletop. “Orange your … banana …”
