“I liked the ice cream,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear that. But if you want to grow up big and strong like Robin, you can’t only eat ice cream. You have to eat some of the other food Uncle Marcus puts on your plate too. Will you try?”
He nodded.
“Good.”
The three of us walked out of the park and crossed the street. We said goodbye at the door of my building, but I didn’t go inside. I stood on the sidewalk, eyes glued to the two of them. As I watched, Noah reached for Marcus’s hand.
They stopped at the blue SUV they had pulled up in, which I now noticed had a vanity plate—Romeo, with an Alpha Phi Alpha frame.Oh boy. Probably a player. None of my business, though.
I went into the building so Marcus wouldn’t catch me staring and climbed the stairs to the second floor. I needed to start on my report and forward those resources I promised him.
My assessment so far: though it would take time, my gut told me those two would be just fine.
Chapter 4
Julia
Iwalked along the carpeted hallway on the way to my apartment while fishing the keys out of my purse. I’d had a long day, but as I neared the door, I heard a sound that had become pleasantly commonplace over the past few weeks—the muffled sound of children’s laughter.
I pushed open the door and had barely crossed the threshold when I heard, “Aunt Julia!”
My three-year-old goddaughter, Emma, slammed into me and wrapped her arms around my legs with enthusiasm. And just like that, the stress and frustrations of the day melted away.
I dropped my purse on the entryway table and scooped her up in one fluid motion. “Hey there! Did you have a good day?” I tweaked her nose.
She giggled, her dark curls bouncing as she nodded her head vigorously. “We made cookies!” she exclaimed, her blue eyes brightening with the memory.
I gasped in mock shock, pressing my hand to my chest. “You made cookies without me? I’m devastated.”
“We saved you some,” Emma assured me with the earnest innocence of a toddler.
Leanne, my best friend and current roommate, appeared from the direction of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Average height and slender, she wore her blonde hair pulled into a bun on top of her head.
“I barely managed to save you any because she ateseven of them,” Leanne said, staring at her daughter.
Emma buried her face in my shoulder.
“I don’t believe a word you said.” I kissed the top of her head, and Leanne rolled her eyes and headed back into the kitchen.
“Did you have a good day at work?” Emma asked.
“I sure did,” I replied, settling her on my hip. “Did you have a good day at home?”
“Mhmm. Mommy said I could have one more cookie for dessert after dinner.” She held her forefinger in front of my face to emphasize the point.
“Good plan. We can eat our cookies together.”
Her face brightened. “Okay.”
She kicked her feet, a signal that she wanted me to put her down. As she scampered toward the living room, I followed my nose to the kitchen, where the aroma of some unknown pasta dish beckoned to me.
The kitchen wasn’t very big, but it was functional. A small table sat in front of two small windows that overlooked the front of the building and the street below. Three stools sat in front of the bar, adding more seating and offering a view of the rest of the space, which included black appliances and enough counter space to hold small appliances like the microwave and air fryer.
As I sat on one of the stools, Leanne poured a glass of white wine and set it in front of me.
“Marry me,” I said as I gratefully clasped the stem.
