“Breathtaking.”
Adam reddened under his tan and walked into the kitchen. “Thanks.”
Had I sounded insincere? “I mean it! These windows and views! And the neutral palette really highlights the bones of the room. And those beams! Is all this wood teak?” I stopped short. “Babbling, sorry. It’s just really beautiful.”
He left the rosemary on the island. “I did alright, then?”
“You decorated?” Immediately, I threw up a hand. “Sorry again. Sexist. I figured Cara would’ve . . . ”
He was already shaking his head. “I built it a few years ago.”
“Well, you have great vision. Love it. Bet your builder got some good ideas from you.”
He gave me a funny look.
“Seriously. I bet this is in his portfolio now.”
“You know I don’t usually do commercial . . . ?”
“Sorry?”
“I’m just helping Phil.”
“I’m not following.”
“The Lumina store?” At my awkward stillness, he tried again. “You know I’m the contractor, right? I built Phil’s house . . . ? That’s how I know them . . . ?”
What was he talking about? Maureen was working with a niece of the developer. More concerned with deadlines than vision. I’d met her once. Short. Intense. Her bob swished every time she looked down at her clipboard. She . . . she . . . they . . .
“Right.” I frowned. “I know that.” Maureen had insisted that her lease agreement allow her to use her own contractor because she didn’t want to have to bring a new person up-to-speed with her style. She’d invited me to the first meetings to brainstorm ideas; but after I’d passed the third time, she’d stopped asking; and Phil had teased me because she was hellbent on setting me up with . . .
With you.
“You okay?”
Not really, no. “Brain cramp. Your home is so gorgeous I couldn’t think straight.” The half-imagined woman was gone now. “So’s theirs, by the way. Meant to tell you that Friday. Absolutely stunning!”
He shook his head slowly. “We need to feed you soon. Come on, let me take you up to Cara. I’m sure she’s wondering what’s taking so long.” He led us to a flight of stairs flowing past one of the alcoves.
“I built it as a spec house, but when the market bottomed out, it sat here collecting dust. And payments.” He motioned for me to go first up the stairs. “I’d grown attached to it anyway—put a bit too much of myself in it, really.” He sounded close behind me as if ready lend a steadying hand. “A few brokers told me it wasn’t coastal enough, so I decided to rent out my other place and move in to this one.”
He’d made the right choice. At the top of the stairs, the landing opened up to include more windows, two overstuffed leather wingbacks and floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with books. The creased and saddle-worn spines beckoned, but Adam led me to the left and down a hallway.
“Cara?” he called ahead, “Lila’s here . . . feel like company?”
It suddenly occurred to me it was odd she hadn’t met us downstairs. “Is she okay?” I whispered.
Before he could answer, she called out from behind the farthest door. “Come in!” She sounded cheerful, but Adam drew a breath before turning the knob.
She was sitting up in bed, surrounded by pillows, her dark hair pulled back with a thin satin headband. Somehow, in two days, her stomach had gotten even bigger, pushing the silky coverlet up in a great mounded dome, leaving only the sheer peachy sleeves and lacy neckline of her nightgown visible. With swoops of decorative netting draped from the canopy overhead, and the pearly creams and roses in the bedding, she looked like a princess awaiting her morning tea.
“How are you?” I gave her a soft hug around the shoulders.
“I’m good!” She patted the bed, and I sat on the edge. “I’m so glad you came! Where’s Eileen? I can’t wait to meet her! Adam said she was really special.” She leaned forward so he could fluff her pillows.
“She’s outside with your dogs. Hasn’t talked about anything else since y’all invited us over.”
“I’m so glad! I’ll roll myself downstairs eventually so I can meet her.” She patted her belly for emphasis.
“Adam let her name one . . . ”
“She changed Reggie’s name to Caramel.”
“Caramel?” Cara clapped her hands together. “That’s so—”
“Sweet?”
“Exactly!”
Adam looked from Cara to me and nodded. “Ladies, I’m going to go fire-up the grill.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off, “And check on Eileen.”
He whistled a few notes of a tune as he walked out, and a rush of lightness filled my chest. I hadn’t even noticed the ache was back until it was no longer there. Apparently, I wasn’t only worried about Cara.
Once he’d left, we sat quietly for a moment, not sure what to say. I looked around the room for something neutral to talk about so we wouldn’t have to dive in with the obvious and spotted a framed photo on the nightstand. Leaning closer, I recognized a younger Adam, handsome in desert fatigues, one arm slung over the shoulder of an even younger buddy as they posed in front of a bulky armored vehicle.
“Adam was in the Marines?”
Cara smiled and picked up the picture, touching it lovingly before handing it to me for a better look.
“Yes, he and my brother both were.”
“That’s your brother?” The friend in the picture was barely more than a teenager. The boy’s fatigues were rumpled, and his grin looked abashed like they’d been roughhousing right before the photographer snapped the shot.
“His name was Trent.”
“Oh. Cara, I’m so sorry.” How sad. “He was very handsome. You have the same lovely brown eyes.” I studied the picture, not wanting to pry, but not wanting to seem uninterested, either.
“He was killed . . . right after I found out. Just a few months ago.” She sighed heavily. “After Afghanistan, he went to Syria, and then Burkina Faso? Or maybe Nigeria . . . ? They wouldn’t tell me, exactly.” She rested against the pillows as her gaze drifted away to something only she could see. “We were the last
