Page 102 of Arranged Silverfox

“I can drive you back later, or you can follow me,” she said.

“I’ll follow you.” I’d parked out front on the curb.

Sebastian and Olivia’s parents lived in a sprawling, red brick colonial house on the edge of Dover. It was beautiful, with a winding driveway decorated by lush rose bushes and wildflowers. There was a fountain in the center of the drive, with a statue of a cherub striking a pose in the center. I could tell these additions were new; the siding on the house was freshly painted. The cherub must have been only a few months old, it wasn’t weathered, and there were no signs of sun damage.

I parked behind Olivia and found her waiting at the front door. She barely had time to knock before her mom flung the door open. She held Joey on her hip and passed him over to Olivia when he reached for her.

“Olivia! Becca! Come right in, please,” she exclaimed, flinging the door open. Sebastian’s mother exuded an unmistakable sense of kindness and warmth that radiated off her like sunlight. She wore a pair of red linen overalls over a white T-shirt, and she’d recently cut her hair into a bob. I could see the faint laugh lines around her mouth; it was hard to imagine her when she wasn’t smiling.

“Hey Joey, did you have fun with Grandma?” Olivia asked.

“Mhmm,” Joey gurgled before hiding his face in the crook of Olivia’s neck when he saw me. He was a cute kid, with Olivia’s large green eyes and Jack’s dark, curly hair. Olivia and Sebastian had the same eyes. It made me excited to think about what my and Sebastian’s kids would look like.

“Sorry, he’s a little shy,” Olivia apologized.

“It’s okay; he’s had a long day. I’m sure we’ll be fast friends in no time,” I said.

Olivia and I stepped into the foyer and slipped our sandals off.

“Do you girls want some lemonade? I just made some,” she quipped.

“Uh, sure,” I said. Mrs. Steele led us into a spacious living room with expansive, open windows and a tan leather couch. Joey’s toys were scattered around the floor. He made a motion to get down, and Olivia set him on the floor, where he quickly crawled over to a plastic truck and started zooming it along the carpet. I sat on the carpet next to Joey.

“Is that your truck?” I asked.

He nodded and stuck his tongue out in concentration as he rolled the car over my kneecap and slammed it onto the ground.

I laughed, and Joey laughed, too. “That was pretty silly!” I said.

Olivia sat next to me. “Joey, do you know who this is? This is your Aunt Becca!”

Joey looked at me and studied me intently with his large, green eyes. “Becca?”

Olivia nodded. “Aunt Becca.”

“A Becca!” he repeated.

Olivia shook her head. “We’re still working on our tee sounds,” she explained.

“That’s a hard one,” I sympathized. I watched as Joey placed each of his trucks in my lap and did my best to feign interest.

“You’re great with kids,” Olivia commented.

“Thanks!” I said. My parents were both only children, so I didn’t have any aunts or cousins. The longest I’d been around young children was a brief stint as a babysitter in high school. With two kids on the way, I figured I needed all the practice I could get.

Mrs. Steele returned and set two glasses of lemonade on the coffee table. She fished a photo album out of the drawer beneath the coffee table. “Becca, I figured you would want to see this,” she said. She passed it over to me, and Olivia grimaced.

“Mom, really? Do you really want to show Becca our baby photos?” Olivia asked.

“Well, it’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? And Sebastian’s not here to wrench the album out of my hands. I need to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“I agree, Mrs. Steele,” I said, flipping open to a page with a photo of who I assumed was a young Sebastian riding a plastic tricycle. He had a bowl cut, and his tiny fists were gripping the handlebars with determination. He had the same determined expression he uses when he merges onto a highway, and he was wearing an adorable pair of gingham overalls.

“Oh, my God! Look at Sebastian!” I exclaimed. I felt myself tearing up and blamed the pregnancy hormones.

“Sebby was so sweet when he was little,” Mrs. Steele gushed.

“Sebby?” I asked.

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