Page 48 of Something Like Shelter

“Goodbye, Gracie,” I called over her before hanging up.

But I was smiling. And wasn’t as frazzled as I’d been a few minutes before.

“It’s no big deal, right?” I asked Adeline, who was settled in her swing, rocking gently side to side. “Just dinner. Nothing crazy. I don’t have to get all dressed up.”

Adelaide blew little bubbles and pinched her brows as if to say, “Then why’d you dress me up?”

I had.

She was wearing one of those sets that was a little dress with a diaper cover—all white with a sweet little daisy print.

“I mean, if you’re dressed up, maybe I can put on a dress too. Besides, a sundress is usually easy to pull down in the front.”

With that, I made my way into my closet, passing the majority of my wardrobe—which was basically smart pantsuits or work dresses and athleisure. But back in a nearly forgotten corner were the clothes I used to wear on dates or to go out with friends.

There I found rompers, cute sets, and, yes, dresses. My hand went automatically toward the white dress in the back. The one I’d never worn. The one Gracie had convinced me to buy when they were trending, right before I got pregnant.

A white milkmaid dress with a midi-length A-line skirt, cinched waist, and ruching across the bodice that, well, made your breasts really pop.

It simultaneously managed to look innocent and unbearably sexy at the same time.

But that wasn’t why I picked it. I didn’t want to look sexy. It was just the only thing I owned that would let me match with Adelaide.

At least, that was what I was telling myself as I took it into my spare bathroom to get myself together.

Thankfully, Adelaide was in a phase where she loved being in her swing, so long as it kept rocking, she would give me time to shower, shave, lotion, and do my hair.

I’d just finished my makeup when she started to grumble. And judging by the weight and discomfort in my breasts, it was past time for a feeding.

I took the next twenty minutes to nurse and admire the perfect little creature I’d created before changing her and putting her into her pumpkin seat before finally finishing getting myself ready.

Anticipation fluttered in my belly as I grabbed my purse, diaper bag, and Adelaide’s carrier and made my way to the car. We made a quick stop at the bakery before continuing to the address Owen had sent me earlier that morning, before I could ask.

He lived in one of the older parts of Navesink Bank that was full of charming ranches, capes, and craftsman houses, mature trees, and well-maintained, colorful gardens.

“This is nice, huh?” I called back to Adelaide, who’d been too fascinated watching out the window to take the nap we both knew she needed. “It’s so welcoming.”

I had to admit that my own real estate choice had been a bit on the cold side: lots of dark woods, black, and marble. The neighborhood was more of the same—small mansions with boring, ornamental gardening, tall, gleaming windows, and cold stone.

“Here we are,” I said as the navigation told me to turn right. “Oh, wow.”

Of course, he lived in a storybook house. Everything about the man felt borderline mystical.

He had a two-and-a-half-story craftsman home with a brick front, a front porch, pillars leading to the overhanging shingle roof, then the second floor of large windows. Above that was what appeared to be one room in the peak of the house.

There was a neat stone front path, a perfect lawn, and simple, somewhat masculine landscaping—lots of green, no flowers.

It was charming.

And as if it wasn’t perfect enough, seeing us pull into the driveway, Tuna came from where he was hiding to the side of the porch and sat on the steps, tail wagging.

It was the kind of house you could easily imagine hosting Christmas, or having kids running around the backyard, of having big barbecues for family and friends in the summer, of setting down roots and letting them dig deep.

“Hey, Tuna!” I called as I climbed out of the car and moved around to the backseat.

He must have been trained not to step off the porch because he waggled and whined but stayed put until I had the diaper bag and the pumpkin seat and made it to the steps.

Then he was all over me—rubbing himself against my legs, sniffing the carrier, and licking my hand.