The sky was barely visible between skyscrapers. And had the sidewalks always been this crowded?
At the Women in Marketing Conference, Jasper kept Vincent strapped to his chest and hung out with me while I waited to be introduced for the panel I was speaking on. He was distractingly handsome, something that just about every other attendee appreciated if the looks they were giving him were any indication.
“Look at Mommy,” he said to Vincent, cupping his head tenderly. “She’s so pretty and smart. We’re so proud of her, aren’t we?”
The noise in the bustling lobby echoed off the sleek marble floors, making it nearly impossible to have a conversation, and women in suits furiously tapping out emails on their phones, stood everywhere I looked.
I gave Jasper a sassy look, but deep down, my heart was melting. Both dressed in blue today, it hit me. How much Vincent looked like his father. The green eyes and the arched brows, the single dimple.
For months, all I’d seen in my son was myself. My dark hair and the shape of my lips. But he was half Jasper. Obviously, but emotionally, I supposed I hadn’t processed that.
“You could run this whole thing, you know that?” Jasper shuffled closer and kissed my forehead, being sure not to squish our little guy between us.
I was still getting used to how casual his affection was. How he touched and kissed and hugged in the most natural way. How generous he was with his smiles and his laughter. How perfectly his body comforted me.
He had been true to his word and had not pressured me or asked for any definition. We were floating along in a sea of orgasms and baby giggles and forehead kisses. Strangely, other than that blip of desire for a label at girls’ night, the unknown hadn’t prompted anxiety attacks, and every day, I felt more comfortable with him.
“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I could not. I’m just hoping I don’t have spit-up on my blazer and can speak coherently for an hour.”
“If you do find spit-up, then think of it as a badge of honor.” He winked at me. “And don’t talk negatively about yourself. You’ve got this. We’re your cheerleaders.”
He raised Vincent’s little arms in a mock cheer, and the two of them smiled, their matching dimples on display.
“Evangelina Marino.” An impeccably dressed woman in her fifties wielding a clipboard scanned the space.
I waved at her, pressed a kiss to Vincent’s head, then took a step back.
Jasper grasped my arm before I could walk away. “Do I get one too?”
Lips twitching, I moved in again. I kissed him chastely, but as I did, his hand traveled down, giving my ass a firm squeeze.
“Knock ’em dead.”
Chapter 31
Jasper
From the moment I first saw her, I’d known that Evie was smart. But watching her captivate hundreds of people and speak so eloquently was an experience. And not just for me. All over the room, people scribbled notes furiously, their eyes bouncing from their notebooks to her and back again.
My chest expanded with pride as she was recognized and celebrated for her talents.
After the roundtable, one person after another rushed up to her with questions and to introduce themselves.
The woman struggled to accept all the compliments, but she handled every conversation with grace.
The old Jasper may have felt insecure. May have compared his small list of accomplishments to what Evie had done with her life and fallen woefully short. But the day Vincent was born, that mentality disappeared. I was more than happy to be here watching her. Helping her. Cheering for her alongside our son.
I was consumed by peace. Because this was what I was supposed to do. Who I was supposed to be. It had taken a long time to get here, but I’d found myself. And I wouldn’t let go.
Once the room cleared out, we headed to the restaurant just off the lobby. The place was mostly empty at the moment, sowe settled in one of the large booths, Vincent still in my arms, gnawing on his Sophie toy and exploring the leather of the booth seating with his tiny fingers.
The glow radiating from Evie earlier had dimmed. In fact, she seemed dimmer in general.
Heart aching for her, I squeezed her hand. “You okay?”
She nodded, but rather than respond, she stood and peered toward the restaurant’s entrance.
I turned, following her line of sight, and found an elegant woman walking our way. She looked like a runway model, tall and willowy and holding a massive designer purse.
