Page 78 of An Unlikely Deal (Lucas & Ava)
I’m up by five thirty, which is way earlier than normal. Despite the very comfortable travel, jet-lag has struck.
I stay in bed and read a mystery novel that I downloaded a couple months back. It’s an okay book with a cute librarian as the lead. Around the time I hit the end of the fifth chapter, the house starts to stir.
After a quick shower, I put on a blue sweater and jeans and make my way downstairs, my sneakers quiet on the hardwood floor. Ray and Darcy are sharing coffee by the breakfast bar in the kitchen. Ray looks like he’s ready to go out for a round of golf. A navy blue zip-neck sweater with horizontal stripes across his chest lies neatly on his torso, and well-fitted dark brown trousers—as well as his golf shoes—look brand new. Darcy, on the other hand, doesn’t seem interested in any particular activity. She’s in a bright yellow cotton shirt with a cream-colored cardigan thrown over it, and her favorite plaid angle-length skirt hangs on her slight body. A pair of plushy brown slippers covers her feet.
“Good morning,” I say with a cheery smile.
“Morning. Sleep well?” Darcy asks.
“I was up a little early because of the flight, but yeah. I did.”
I head for the coffee maker and pour myself a big mugful. Ray is a connoisseur of the brown stuff, and my foster parents have some of the best coffee in the world.
I wrap my hands around the mug and take a sip. “This is so good.”
“I got some new beans from Colombia,” Ray explains. “They’re excellent. Much better than I expected.”
Darcy smiles. “If they weren’t good, you would’ve sent them back.”
Laughing, Ray gets up with his empty mug. “Of course. No reason to pay good money for bad coffee.” He looks at both me and Darcy. “Do you ladies have any special requests for breakfast?”
“Belgian waffles?” I ask, licking my lips.
Ray is an excellent cook, and his specialties are waffles and pancakes. I don’t know what he puts in them, but it’s highly addicting.
While Ray gets busy in the kitchen, Darcy and I check the nursery. Mia is already up. When she spots Darcy, she extends her fat little arms, silently asking to be picked up.
“Hello, baby girl,” Darcy coos as she slips her hands under Mia’s armpits and pulls her upward, settling the small child against her chest. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing? You were so quiet in here, we didn’t even know you were awake.”
Mia chortles. Then she swivels her head toward me, her mouth parted in an open smile.
I step forward and brush my finger tenderly along her cheek. “Hello, Mia.”
“’Ello,” she says.
“Mia is quite a talker,” Darcy says. “She speaks surprisingly well for her age.”
“Is it all right if I…?”
“Of course.” Darcy hands me the child.
I cradle her against my heart, feeling her slight precious weight. Mia was born small, and if it hadn’t been for Darcy and Ray’s assistance, I’m not certain she would’ve gotten the medical care she needed. The labor was very difficult, and I was too young and too out of it afterwards to figure out what needed to be done. It also didn’t help that I felt so alone, knowing that I could never depend on Lucas for support. In many ways, Ray and Darcy have been better parents to Mia than I ever could have. What I feel for them extends beyond mere gratitude.
With prickling eyes, I look at Darcy over Mia’s head. My foster mother gazes back at me with a sweet smile that says she understands.
The sound of the doorbell breaks the moment. Darcy and I look at each other. The digital clock on the wall says it’s barely eight a.m. Who could be visiting so early?
Darcy marches out of the nursery, me following closely behind. As she walks past the kitchen, she calls out, “I got it.”
“Thanks, hon,” Ray says, whisking something in a bowl.
The second Darcy opens the door, she stiffens. I gasp when I spot Lucas over Darcy’s head. He’s freshly showered, his hair slightly damp, his face carefully shaved. A black untucked button-down shirt fits over his strong, muscled shoulders and chest, and a pair of well-worn black denim pants and suede leather shoes complete the darkly foreboding look.
“Lucas,” I say.
Darcy shoots me a quick look over her shoulder, then turns her attention back to him.
“What are you doing here so early?” she asks, her tone neither polite nor impolite.
