Page 46 of Keystrokes and Kittens

“Wow. Okay. You’re certain you want to introduce me?” The question I really wanted to ask—but didn’t dare—waswhat are we to each other?

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with it. Right now, I’m all jittery. I suppose I knew, someday far in the future, that Quinta would find someone. Probably a man, but I was open to all possibilities, and she’d want to have a future with that guy. I just didn’t think she’d meet him in her first year of university. Or that he’d be so much older than her.”

“How about you tell me what you know? Then we can set up a laptop. I don’t know about yours, but mine is new and has a great camera.”

His eyes flashed gratitude. Then he proceeded to fill me in on what little he knew.

And the details were pretty sparse.

Still, I set up my laptop and convinced Sam to bring the crate into the kitchen. “If you want, you can show Quinta the kittens.You know, if things are getting awkward. Tibby can also do tricks on command.”

That made Sam smile.

And, at the appointed hour, we clicked on the link that connected us with Quinta.

Aside from assuming Sam’s niece was also Black, I hadn’t really known what to expect.

Quinta’s face filled the screen, and she had the biggest smile. “Sam! How are you?” Then she noticed me. “And who is this?” She grinned. “The man from the photo?”

“This is Soren. He’s my friend.” Sam offered a smile.

His niece arched an eyebrow—exactly the same way he did. Her dark complexion was flawless, those dark-brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and her mouth curved into a smile. “Oh, that’s what we’re calling it these days, eh? I leave home for just a short period of time—”

“You’ve been gone almost a year—”

“—and you finally meet someone. Well, hot damn, Sam. Nice to meet you, Soren.” She grinned. “I never thought this day would come.”

“Nice to meet you, Quinta. I have to say that Sam’s pretty special.” I knocked my knee into his. “And he’s so damn proud of you.”

She blinked. “He says that all the time.”

“Because it’s true.” Sam cleared his throat. “So, tell me about this guy.”

“His name is Laurent—”

“Lawrence?” Sam squinted.

“Laurent. It’s French.”

“He’s French?”

She laughed. “Nope. He’s from Louisiana. But his family descended from French aristocracy and so all the children have French names. In truth, he hates it.” She moved closer toher camera. “He thinks it’s all pretentious—but he hates Larry more.”

I burst out laughing.

So did Sam.

Quinta proceeded to tell us aboutLaurent. About his research. About his lab. How he was within months of completing his PhD in molecular and medical pharmacology. How he had a research fellowship lined up. “He’s so smart, Sam.”

“You are too, Quinta. Don’t ever doubt that. Or compare yourself to other people. You are your own shining star.” He beamed.

She blinked several times. Obviously another thing he’d said to her numerous times. “So you’re okay with me staying in LA?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Sam rubbed his forehead. “I really wish you’d told me this weeks ago, though. I could’ve hired someone instead of holding your job.” Then he sat a little straighter. But I want to see you. And I want to meet your man.” He pursed his lips—almost daring her to argue.

She grinned. “Do you want to come down to LA? My roommates are out of town for the fourth of July weekend. You two could have a room.”

“Oh, I…” Sam bit his lower lip.