Free Barefoot in the Sun by Roxanne St. Claire

Zoe to find medical care—a daunting task without insurance, let alone without legal identification—but it was entirely possible the jig was up for Zoe, too. At the very least, she might have to face Lacey, Jocelyn, and Tessa and admit they didn’t even know her name.
    A splash of hot, dark dread shot through her stomach at the thought.
    “We’re in the family room,” Tessa called to Zoe. “Come and see your nephew.”
    “Brace yourself, Elijah!” Zoe called in a singsong voice. “Here comes the fun aunt!”
    Zoe headed into the large, high-ceilinged great room to find Pasha in an overstuffed chair, baby in arms. It was like an artist’s rendering of time passages: Pasha with her silver hair shooting in a few different directions, her skin hanging like crepe paper on bony cheeks, her arms holding the perfect, pink, baby bud of new life.
    One ending the journey, the other just beginning.
    “Zoe!” Pasha scolded, her voice even raspier than usual, her brown eyes misty. “Don’t you know it’s incredibly bad luck to cry the first time you see a baby?”
    Without a quip handy, Zoe dropped to her knees in front of Pasha, swallowing the unexpected lump in her throat.
    “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him,” she said, reaching out to take the tiny bundle, the move revealing his tuft of reddish blonde wisps, the perfect combination of Lacey’s strawberry and Clay’s golden hair. “I was there the other night when Lacey spread her legs and gave new meaning to the term ‘grand opening’ party.” He was ridiculously light. “Hey, little dude. Way to blow lunch on Joss. Didn’t anyone tell you she doesn’t like to get dirty?”
    She ran a finger over his air-soft cheek and the dip in his tiny chin, almost speechless at the perfection of his bowed lips and speck of a nose.
    Tessa perched on the armrest of the sofa. “He throws up a lot,” she said. “I think Lacey might have to watch the nitrates in her diet.”
    Zoe leaned close to inhale powder and warm baby. “That’s Tessa, the healthy auntie who won’t let you eat evil Froot Loops and Pop-Tarts. Don’t worry, I will.” She looked at Pasha. “What did his palms say?”
    Pasha lifted her narrow shoulders in a casual shrug. “Longevity, health, happiness, three children, and a weakness for brunettes.”
    “Brunettes? We better work on that.” Zoe frowned and wormed her finger into his fist to spread out his hand and see that info-rich palm. He squeezed tighter. “Does that mean he’s going to hold on to his money or something?”
    Tessa moved closer. “It means you’re not a brunette. Give that child to me.”
    They held each other’s eyes, smiling. “You’ve been holding him all day.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Am I right?”
    “So?” Tessa lifted a shoulder nonchalantly, no trace of the sadness Zoe had expected in her eyes as she held out greedy hands. “Come to Aunt Tess, Eli.”
    “Don’t go, baby.” Zoe turned, refusing to give him up. “She’ll make you wear hemp diapers. Are we calling him Eli or Elijah?”
    “I don’t know what we’re calling him,” Jocelyn said, coming to the other side so that the three of them surrounded the baby.
    “She changed her mind about the name?” Zoe couldn’t believe it. “He’s been Elijah since the day we found out which team he played for.”
    Jocelyn shook her head. “Lacey is on a tear to find out that doctor’s name. You wouldn’t happen to know, would you, Zoe?”
    “Me?” She felt her cheeks warm and directed all her attention to the baby, lifting his little body to her face, hoping he’d cover any unwanted blushing. “Oh, my goodness. Nothing smells like a baby, huh?”
    Nobody answered.
    Of course they’d all been in the room when Oliver had swept in; they’d all seen Zoe and Oliver react to each other. Had she said his name? Had he said hers? She didn’t even remember. The moment had been like the slow motion of a car wreck—afterwards, the details are