tucking her hands under her cheek, she stared at the night shadows dancing on the wall above Ari’s crib. The baby was unusually placid earlier. Their mommy-daughter twirl on the outside dance floor left the normally wide-eyed and wiggling three-month-old noticeably serene.
Turning onto her back, Summer stretched beneath the covers, flexing and pointing her toes. She threw her arms wide and took several deep breaths.
“Sleep is my friend. Sleep is my friend.”
Visualizing herself snug and asleep, she might have started to drift until Arnie pushed his way into her thoughts.
“Hey, babe. Wanna dance naked in the moonlight?”
She sat straight up in bed when the deep rumbling sexiness of Arnie’s voice woke her up but fast.
Envisioning a moonlight dance, she moved her eyes to the bedroom window and wished with all her might for it to come true.
The backyard floodlights were on a timer and had turned off earlier. The room-darkening drapes on her bedroom window were open, and moonlight streamed through the sheer pink curtains. The wall shadows came from the trees dotting the yards surrounding the back of the house. Sometimes, she could see the moonlight reflected off the pool water.
She wondered if anyone was genius enough to have a YouTube channel of nothing but night shadows.
If sleep was determined to elude her, she might as well get up. Maybe a decaf tea would help.
Swinging her feet off the bed, she slid on her bunny slippers and grabbed the robe off the end of the bed. The nighttime chill was real.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, she looked back to check on Ari. Her sweet little girl was a fan of snoozing—once she actually let sleep take her. Right now, she was completely relaxed with her little arms out like a starfish.
There was no need to turn on any lights in the living room. The big windows let in enough moonlight for her to navigate just fine.
Puttering mindlessly in the kitchen, she went about making tea by rote. The kettle was always filled with bottled spring water, so it was an easy flip of the switch to start the heating process.
Grabbing the spoon and mug she washed earlier from the dish drainer, she plunked them on the counter and reached for the canister with decaf tea sachets. She missed having extra strength tea or a good glass of wine. Until the baby stopped breastfeeding, she had no choice. She experienced a twinge of mommy guilt over her efforts to wean Arianne. She rejected breast milk and formula equally because for the most part, the little scamp would have no part of the fake nipple.
She snorted. Just like her daddy.
The kettle finished heating and turned off. As she poured the boiling water into the mug, something passed by her windows. The moving shadow shocked her, and she wobbled the kettle, spilling hot water on the counter.
Hopping back to avoid the scorching liquid, she muttered, “Shit,” and grabbed the dish towel to mop up the mess. The second she could, Summer looked up and searched the apartment windows. She hadn’t imagined the shadowy movement but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
A nagging worry made her even edgier than before. Without thinking her reasoning through, she dashed into the bedroom, went to the crib, and once she was assured of Ari’s safety, she swiftly reached behind the sheer curtains and closed the room-darkening drapes.
Was suddenly feeling exposed an overreaction? She didn’t know, but she was sure of one thing. Whatever she was picking up in the air had two distinct sides. One positive and protective but the other? Not so much.
28
“Great news,” Stan announced when he bustled into the house carrying a cardboard drink holder filled with Starbucks beverages. “Lynda called. Summer took an extra shift today and will be out of the apartment until dinnertime. We’ve been invited to take a look at the addition.”
They had access to Summer’s apartment? Arnie instantly forgot about the delivery of flooring he was inspecting and dropped the clipboard.
A double shot of nervous adrenaline fired up his system. He ran a hand through the hairpiece on his head and grimaced. He was an old man with a limp and a stoop. His whole existence felt surreal.
“I can’t,” he mumbled. “I’m not ready.”
Shoving a coffee into his hand, Stan openly mocked him with his expression.
“You’re not ready? What the hell does that even mean? You need more time to take off ten pounds before prom?”
The snarky zinger startled Arnie. He reacted as if he’d been slapped. Then