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“Glad you could make it.”
“Hard to turn down good pizza.” I offered a smile. “My friends couldn’t resist, either.”
His gaze traveled beyond me, sparking with interest when they landed on Mrs. Quinn.
“Mills Dixon.” He extended his hand, jolting slightly when her palm slid into his.
An audible gasp escaped her when he pressed his lips to her skin.
“Audrey Quinn.” Her voice was as affected as I’d ever heard it.
Baker and I exchanged a look.
“A pleasure.” Andrew’s dad was a Romeo.
Baker cleared her throat, and Mrs. Quinn snatched her hand out of Mr. Dixon’s. He grinned sheepishly and gave Baker his attention.
“I’m Baker.” She thrust out her hand to shake, but he extended the same gallant greeting he’d given Mrs. Quinn and me by kissing her hand.
“So glad you could join us.”
“Dino’s is the best. No way Ella and I were skipping this.”
His gaze dropped to the stroller. “Isn’t she lovely? Hello, Ella.” He held out his finger, and Ella clutched it greedily. I didn’t understand her babble, but I’d recognize that smile anywhere. She liked him.
“Come with me. Our table’s this way.” He indicated over his shoulder. “My daughter and her family are here, and only one son,” he said as we weaved our way to the large table. He looked at me. “It’s not the one you’re expecting.”
A stab of disappointment struck my chest. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The woman I assumed was Andrew’s sister twisted around in her seat. Her hawk-like stare landed on me.
“You’re Trish,” she said with certainty.
“And you’re Marlow,” I returned.
Her eyes flashed in surprise, but she quickly recovered. “My father is your biggest fan.”
“From what I hear, your brother is.” A man who resembled Andrew spoke. He filled the seat he was relaxed in with muscular arms folded over his chest.
Baker snorted, pushing Ella’s stroller to the end of the table where another toddler was seated in a high chair. “You two chat. You speak each other’s language,” she said, patting my daughter on the head.
“How,” the little boy said, waving at Ella.
She screamed at him.
He screamed back.
The entire restaurant stared.
I wanted to blend into the floor.
“I think they like each other,” Mr. Dixon joked.
“How. How. How.”
I needed to warn everyone within hearing distance to plug their ears. My daughter’s decibel level was likely to get high.
When she opened her mouth, I rushed over, but she simply let out some sort of baby speak. Her nose scrunched, and her cheeks got red with frustration because she couldn’t mimic the child beside her.
He held out a crayon and dropped it on her. Ella screamed again before she let go of the plastic keys she couldn’t be without and gingerly poked at the crayon resting on her tummy.
