“She is,” Natalie said, just as the young girl Brooke had seen on Natalie’s phone—her niece—came running around the corner from what looked to be a long hallway. “This is your aunt Brooke,” Natalie said, and Brooke’s heart skipped a beat.
“Hi!” Hailey said with an excited wave of her small hand. She rolled up on her toes and then brought her feet back down to the floor. She wore a red dress with blue-and-white–striped tights and black ballet flats. “I can’t believe we didn’t know about you!”
Brooke managed to smile, despite the fact that her chin quivered. “I know,” she said. “It’s crazy, right?”
Hailey nodded and peered up at Brooke’s face with a squinty look. “Can I see your eyes?”
Natalie laughed. “Let’s let her get away from the front door first, kiddo.”
“It’s okay,” Brooke said, leaning down so her face was only a foot or so away from Hailey’s. “I want to see yours, too.”
Hailey smiled, and Brooke found herself staring at another set of her own violet-blue eyes. “Wow,” she said. “Look at us!”
Hailey jumped up and wiggled a bit where she stood, which caused Brooke to pull back and straighten her stance so their heads wouldn’t collide. “Yeah! It’s like we’re twins! You have curly hair, too! Just like mine!”
“Hailey,” Natalie said, her voice full of gentle warning. Brooke appreciated that her sister was being protective of her, making sure Brooke wasn’t getting overwhelmed. It was nice to feel cared for, even if it was by someone she was just beginning to know. Brooke smiled again, feeling more peaceful as the muscles in her body began to relax. Maybe this won’t be so bad, she thought. Maybe she was worried about nothing.
Just then, a little boy raced into the living room to join them; Brooke assumed he had to be Henry. His hair was a tousled mop, darker than Natalie’s blond, and he had almond-shaped brown eyes. “Mommy!” he said. “Is this the lady?”
“It is,” Natalie said. “Henry, this is your aunt Brooke.”
“Hi, Henry,” Brooke said, still feeling like she might cry. This was her family, she thought. She had a family. The little boy had a smear of something red on his cheek, which she guessed was his mother’s lipstick. The baby she carried would someday grow to be this age, and Brooke would be the only one responsible for its well-being. However many times she told herself she’d be fine, the thought still filled her with fear.
“Very pretty, that aunt Brooke!” Hailey said, in what Brooke guessed was supposed to be a British accent.
“Very stinky, my butt!” Henry said, and both he and his sister dissolved into laughter.
Brooke must have looked confused, because Natalie quickly explained the reference to Gordon Ramsay, and her children’s obsession with the famous chef’s well-known phrase. “Let’s get you a glass of wine,” Natalie said, gesturing for Brooke to follow her into the kitchen.
“Thanks, but I probably shouldn’t drink since I’m driving home,” Brooke said. She hoped she sounded natural; she’d thought of this excuse on the way over.
“Not even one?” Natalie asked, and Brooke shook her head.
“I’m kind of a lightweight.”
“Ah. Got it,” Natalie said. She led Brooke into the kitchen anyway, and invited her to sit at one of the barstools that lined one side of the granite-topped island. Hailey followed them, skipping along at Brooke’s side, and Henry trailed behind, carrying a plastic toy that Brooke recognized from the Toy Story movies.
“Guess what?” Hailey asked, but before Brooke could answer, Natalie intervened.
“Honey, why don’t you and Henry go hang out in the playroom for a bit so Brooke and Mommy can talk? You two could draw her a picture. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
“Okay!” Hailey said. “Come on, Henry! I’ll race you!” The two of them ran out of the kitchen, and Henry’s toy announced, “To infinity . . . and beyond!”
Natalie gave Brooke an amused look. “I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise if they stayed.” She reached into the cupboard and grabbed a wineglass, quickly filling it with sparkling water from a green bottle in the fridge. “Lemon?”
“No, thanks,” Brooke said as she took the glass, grateful that it gave her something to do with her hands. “Is your husband here?”
A brief shadow passed over Natalie’s face. “He’s stuck at work. He’ll be home soon, I’m sure.” She pulled a small tray out of the oven and began placing what looked like puff pastry bites on a plate, which she then pushed toward Brooke. “Have one, please. Pastry with a little bit of goat cheese and fresh fig, and a drizzle of balsamic reduction.”