“Connor and the baby. Who knew he loved babies? I’d never have guessed.”
“Why not?”
Dina shrugs. “He’s Connor, you know?”
“Not really.”
“Me either, but it makes sense to his brother, so I’m tagging along.”
We sit around the firepit in the backyard. Connor wears pink shorts that match the color of Hanna’s pink bow, which Dina must’ve put in her hair. Even though it’s nighttime, he’s lying on the floater in the pool with his sunglasses on. Hanna sleeps on his chest, sprawled like a lion cub on a wide tree branch.
I reach for my purse to take a picture. “Damn it.”
“What?”
“Forgot my purse.”
Dina’s eyes widen. “The wallet, the phone, everything?”
“My house keys. How did they even me let me on the bus without my resident ID?”
“You look fine, that’s why.” Dina pats my shoulder, trying to comfort me. “Do you remember where you left your purse?”
I nod. “In the booth with Pete. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and he held on to my purse as insurance so I’d come back, I think. I don’t know. All I know is that I slid out of the booth and tugged the strap of my purse, but before I could pick it up, Pete held it down. It felt like he wanted some kind of insurance that I’d come back from the bathroom.”
“And you left without it?”
“Yes, but then I forgot because I’m so pissed I went out with him in the first place. I shouldn’t have done that. I knew Icouldn’t make myself like him only because he was stable, and a doctor, and because I should. You understand?”
Dina and I drink up.
“I get it. Don’t worry about the purse. I know a guy who can get it.” She looks pointedly at Connor.
“You think he’s sleeping too?” I ask.
“Doubt it.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
“Probably.”
Flipping the sunglasses off his eyes, Connor waves.
He uses his hands to paddle over on the floater. I pick Hanna up off his chest, and she continues sleeping on my shoulder. I kiss her and inhale her baby scent. She smells like heaven to me. Uniquely mine and only mine. I love her so much, I want to glue her to me.
Connor joins us at the firepit. Water drips off his fine body. The pink shorts suit him. Not many men can wear pink shorts and appear masculine, but Connor can pull it off, especially with all those tattoos, mostly skulls, in addition to Gothic towers and broken crowns.
“Made it home early, huh?” Connor grabs a pair of towels. He throws one over Hanna’s back, and the other, he uses for his hair. When he’s towel dried it, the golden strands stick out every which way.
“My date was a bust,” I say.
He wipes his hands and grabs a walkie-talkie. He speaks that foreign language into it, then switches it off and asks me. “Doc didn’t drop you off?”
“No, I left.”
Connor stills. “But I told him to drop you off.”
“I left so he couldn’t.”
