Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(44)

Lucia comes to life. She leaves her spot in the doorway and closes the few feet that separate us. Her arms are open, and she comes to me first.

Me.

Before I can register what’s happening, she pulls me in. She’s soft and warm, and she smells like honey and vanilla. My chest aches. When she pulls back, I feel sad.

“Aubrey, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Her face is inches from mine, her smile lovely. Genuine. She turns to Claire and Isaac.

“Dios mio, this baby.” She holds her arms out. “May I?”

Claire pushes off from Isaac before I get a chance to answer.

“Be careful of her arm,” Isaac warns, situating Claire on Lucia’s left side. She gives him a brief reproachful look before returning her attention to Claire. “He thinks I don’t know how to handle your special arm.” Her voice is soft, admonishing. “He forgets how many bones he broke as a child.”

“Daddy broke a bone too?” Claire’s eyes are wide.

Lucia turns back to the house. Isaac steps aside, ushering me in before him.

“Oh yes,” I hear her say. “An arm, a wrist, one in his foot, I don’t know how many toes, his collarbone.” She glances back at Isaac and winks. “That’s why he became an orthopedic surgeon. He was inspired by all that time he spent in a cast as a child.”

I step inside and follow Lucia to the living room, where she sets Claire’s feet down on the carpeted floor.

“Lauren. Paul.” Lucia directs her yell off to her right. “They’re here.” She smiles at me, eyes dancing, and claps her hands together quietly.

I feel Isaac’s breath on my ear, his chest against my upper back. “I should’ve warned you before, but my dad can be—”

“I have a joke for her,” a man yells. “Do you think she likes jokes? Wait, is four too young for jokes?” The owner of the voice isn’t visible yet, but his voice thunders down the hall. I can’t make out the muffled response, but there’s definitely a second voice. Claire’s hand grabs my knee from behind, an overgrown nail digging in.

Isaac’s dad steps from the hallway, and he’s nothing like I thought he would be. Average height, average face, and blond. Talk about brown being dominant. The Punnet Square called this one. Isaac looks just like his mother.

“Aubrey, so good to meet you.” The man comes forward, his hand extended. He introduces himself as Paul.

The younger woman two steps behind him looks like an even split between the two parents. She has her father’s blond hair, but her mother’s big, brown eyes and high cheekbones.

“Hi, I’m Lauren, and I’m just going to hug you,” she laughs as she wraps her arms around me.

“Hello,” I say when Lauren steps back. Glancing down, I say “This is Claire.”

Claire’s hiding in my legs, her face pressed to the back of my knees. Gently I use a hand to coax her out, sending an apologetic glance at Isaac’s family.

“She’s probably a bit overwhelmed.” I explain.

Lucia nods knowingly. “Hmm… I wonder if Claire likes cupcakes? I have some that need frosting, but I’m not sure who can help me with that.”

Claire’s hair brushes my skin as her head peeks out from the side of my leg. Her eyes blink up at Lucia. “I do like cupcakes.”

Lucia feigns surprise. “Well, then, I think you should be my helper.” She holds out a hand. Claire takes it and looks at me. I nod, and they leave together.

Lauren bites her lip and glances my way. “Do you mind if I go with them? I want to talk to you more, but…”

“It’s OK.” I reassure her. “We can chat after you spend some time with Claire.”

She hurries after them, sending a smile and an excited wave back at me.

Isaac rolls his eyes, but there’s too much affection in them for the gesture to be negative. “She babysat all the time. And now she’s a kindergarten teacher.”

Even if Lauren didn’t love little kids, I would get it. Claire is a person others want to be around. It’s impossible not to love her immediately.

After watching her leave, Paul turns to me. “Aubrey, let’s sit outside in the sunshine while you tell me more about yourself. Isaac, can you grab us some drinks? Your mother has something she’s put together in the kitchen.” Paul cups my shoulder and squeezes lightly. “This way.” He walks past the couches and toward the back of the house.

As I follow him, I throw a glance back at Isaac, who hasn’t moved. His gaze is fixed on me. I take a step, bump into something, and catch myself on the couch. Isaac’s lips twitch, but he’s not laughing. I get the feeling he’s thinking really hard about something. Or maybe he’s remembering.

I go after Paul, hurrying now that I’ve paused for so long. From the big windows, I see he’s already outside, standing just beyond the patio door.

“Sorry,” I mumble, when I arrive in the doorway.

“No problem. My son distract you?” He laughs.

“A little.” My face is hot.

“Do you garden?” He leads me off the patio floor and onto a green lawn.

“No,” I say, though I’m not sure he has heard me. Walking on large, flat pavers, we cross the backyard and around the side of the house.