I stand in an open space leading into the sitting room, furnished with white leather furniture, with glass walls separating it from the backyard oasis, which features exotic plants, trees, flower bushes, two pools, and a Jacuzzi. Where Dina and Declan are having sex.
I turn away too.
Connor peeks into the oven. “I think whatever she’s baking is almost done.”
“Maybe she’s baking a new baby for herself.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why not?”
I sit at a large barstool with a backrest. Nice.
“Declan won’t have kids. Dina already has a daughter.”
Connor’s belly rumbles.
“I guess we’re all hungry.”
“We are,” he says. “Can we pull it out?” Connor points at the oven with a smirk on his face, so I get the double meaning.
“I think we should. Since nobody wants that oven baking.”
Connor slides on oven mitts and pulls out the banana bread.
“We should let it sit for a while,” I say when he grabs a knife.
He puts the knife down. “Your daughter is hungry.”
“Dina usually gives her breakfast. Listen, what’s going on with those two?” I grab a jar of baby food from the diaper bag and show Hanna the food, but she’s eyeing the banana bread.
“Look, it’s your favorite,” I say. “Carrot and peas.”
“What?” Connor’s stunned face makes me laugh. “That’s nobody’s favorite. No baby wakes up from a nap wishing shecould have carrots and peas.” He picks up the jar and opens it, grabs a spoon, and tastes. I laugh harder at his face.
“What is wrong with…” He reads the company label. “Foodiebaby Company and you?”
“It’s healthy.”
“Yeah, but it’s nasty. Here. Let me see her eat it. I bet you that’s not her favorite.”
“You don’t know her.”
“She has a new favorite.” Connor leans over the counter and gives Hanna a dazzling smile.
She smiles back, all dimples just like his.
“See? New favorite.” He winks and checks his watch. “You have under an hour to make it to work. Are they done yet?”
“Nope.”
Connor cuts the bread and offers me a piece before getting one for himself and a small one for Hanna.
“She’s not having banana bread for breakfast,” I say with my best firm motherly voice.
“She will have bread when you leave.”
“You should not give it to her if I ask you not to. A mother knows best, you know.”