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She needed to relax and wanted to keep her thoughts away from the Chapman brothers and Tina for a while.
The tiny community center was quite busy for a random Monday afternoon. Old ladies were seated in a circle, gossiping and crocheting. Sam Brand, Lia’s fiancé, was sitting and gossiping along with them. He was not crocheting but was happily chatting with the silver-haired women.
A group of teens was tucked away in the farthest corner, practicing some type of martial art. Every so often Sam Brand would look up and call out to them. He appeared to be their instructor.
“Hi, Mrs. C.,” Charlie Carlisle called from the midst of the group, waving enthusiastically. Libby smiled and waved back. The girl went back to rolling on the mat with a couple of bigger boys—and soundly trouncing them, from what Libby could tell.
“Hey, Libby,” a voice called from the stage, and Libby looked up to see Lia McGregor. “Are you and Clara here for the mummy-and-baby-yoga session?”
“Yes,” Libby called back, and Lia beckoned her over. Libby joined her on the stage. There were three other mothers with babies present. Lia hugged her enthusiastically, and Libby grinned. The other woman was so friendly and sweet.
“We’re the smallest group, so we got stuck with the stage,” Lia explained when Libby joined them. “I’m the instructor. I’m not an expert at the mummy-and-baby stuff. I usually just do yoga in the privacy of my own home. But Aisha, my boss, thought this would be a good idea for some of the new mums, and I volunteered to instruct it, with a doll as my substitute baby. So we’re all learning as we go along.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Libby said.
“Hello, Clara.” Lia tickled the wide-eyed baby under her chin, and Clara giggled. “Come on, let me introduce you guys to the rest of the group.”
Libby felt much better by the time the class ended. It had been fun, and while Lia claimed to not be an expert, she had been a great instructor. Everybody had had a wonderful time, and Clara had giggled her way through most of it, charming everybody in the community center in the process. And Libby had come out of the experience a few friends richer.
Lia had mentioned Daff’s baby shower coming up on Sunday, and she’d surprised Libby by saying that she had already invited Tina and urged Libby to come.
Libby arrived home feeling relaxed and ready for a shower, but tension immediately crept back into her body when she spotted the car outside her house.
Greyson.
Libby parked her car in the driveway, cautiously stepped out of the vehicle, and turned to face Greyson, who had come up to the driver’s side of the car. He was back in jeans and a hoodie. An ensemble that she was starting to get used to.
“I just wanted to give you the keys,” he hastened to explain. “To the house. I fixed the lock.”
“Oh . . . well . . . thank you,” she said quietly. He dropped the keys in her hand.
“I’ll see you later, then,” he said.
“Do you want to say hi to Clara?” she asked, and his eyes lit up.
“May I?”
“Of course,” she said, and he rounded the car and opened the door, leaning in to unclip Clara’s car seat belt. The baby gurgled and cooed at him.
“Hey, Clara. Hey there. Come here and give your daddy a kiss.” He lifted her out of the seat, looking a lot more comfortable holding her than he had just two nights ago. He planted a kiss on her chubby cheek and held her close for a quick hug. He smiled at Libby, another of those increasingly common wide and generous smiles.
“I think she recognizes me,” he said proudly.
“Seems that way,” Libby said noncommittally, not wanting to tell him that Clara had been in a singularly good mood all afternoon, dimpling at any random stranger who had paid her any attention.
Libby lifted Clara’s baby bag from the back seat, and Greyson walked them to the front door before giving Clara another squeeze and kiss.
“Daddy loves you, baby girl,” he murmured into Clara’s ear while Libby unlocked the front door. “I’ll see you later. We’re going to have so much fun.”
He handed Clara over carefully and thrust his hands into his jeans pockets. His shoulders were hunched against the strong, cold wind that had kicked up earlier in the day.
“You’d better get her in out of the cold,” he said, stepping away from them. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yes. Thank you for fixing the door.”
“With a little help from the internet,” he said with an ironic smile, and she found herself smiling in return.
He looked like he wanted to add something more, prolong their contact somehow, but she nodded and turned away from him. She shut the door so she wouldn’t find herself inviting him in.
