Page 42 of Something Like Shelter

She collapsed back against the wall and exhaled hard.

“I have a very small baby,” she said.

“I’m aware.”

“And I think this sucks my energy more than she does.”

“In all fairness to your clients and coworkers, it’s not really their fault that they’re not as cute as your daughter.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, then reached toward me, sliding her hand under my coat.

I knew she was fishing for her phone. I could have handed it to her. But I liked her casual touch more than I probably should. The backs of her fingers barely grazed my chest, but my muscles tensed, my nerve endings fired off.

“I just want to check in real quick,” she said as she brought the phone to her ear. “Hey! I’m just—I know. Yes, I know. I just wanted—okay. Yes. Alright. Oh, stop.”

“Told you to stop fussing and get back to the party, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Willa confirmed. “My mom and dad are there with her too. And one of my aunts. Adelaide is getting better care than I can give her.”

“No one can take care of her better than you. But they can do a good enough job that you don’t need to worry.”

“You’re right,” she said, handing me back the phone, and I felt a sinking sensation of disappointment that she didn’t put it back herself.

She looked different when she talked about Adelaide. Softer, somehow. The tension that had been riding her shoulders since we’d walked through the doors eased a little, and the guarded expression she’d worn around her coworkers disappeared completely.

I’d seen Willa tired. I’d seen her frustrated. I’d seen her covered in baby spit and wearing pajamas at three in the afternoon.

But I’d never seen this version of her.

The woman who could be surrounded by hundreds of people and still have her entire attention narrowed down to one tiny baby.

I understood that kind of devotion.

I’d felt something similar toward my siblings, to my nieces and nephews, and to Tuna for years.

But what I saw in her was bigger.

And, if I were being honest, watching her love her daughter made me like her even more.

Which was a dangerous place to be.

“Want to head back in?”

“Do we have to?” she asked, shooting me a pout that made me want to sweep her up and carry her out of the place.

“Absolutely not. Well, until the food is served. Then I’m leaving you here and sampling what kind of fare is served at this sort of thing.”

“That’s fair. I’d abandon you for a great steak and potato right now, too. It’s been a lot of random junk and takeaway lately.”

“Did you like to cook before Adelaide?”

“Not really, no. I mean… I can manage. But it’s not a passion of mine. I’m a fantastic orderer, though.”

“Explains your collection of menus.”

“And that is pared down. I have most of them digital now. Do you cook?”

“I do. When I have the time. Which isn’t often."