She imagined Molly, the younger, crawling onto her lap for a hug and Izzy being relieved to finally have someone to share those thoughts and feelings you could only share with another woman. Flora hadn’t had that. Her aunt hadn’t been the hugging type and their conversations had been focused on the practical. Even now Flora found it hard to talk about her feelings and she assumed it was because she’d had no practice. She’d been left to comfort herself, and figure things out for herself. She didn’t want that for Jack’s girls.

Was she jumping ahead of herself? Possibly, but where was the harm in dreaming a little?

Jack.

She thought, maybe, that she was falling in love and the idea terrified and excited her in equal amounts. Was he in love with her? She wasn’t sure, but she knew that if their relationship was going to move to the next level, then his daughters would have to love her, too.

Jack had made it clear they needed to take this slowly and be discreet. She was fine with that, and not just because of the girls. These feelings were new to her, too.

She’d dated occasionally over the past few years. Most notable had been Mr. Hedge Fund Manager who she’d met when she’d made the mistake of enrolling at an early morning yoga class. He’d been told by his doctor to reduce his stress levels and so had decided on yoga, but hadn’t seemed to realize that Downward Dog wasn’t designed to allow you to take a closer look at your phone. The phone joined them for every date, sitting on the table during dinner like a chaperone. The only hedge she knew anything about was green and needed pruning, and despite her efforts she’d been unable to learn anything that equipped her to have an even vaguely knowledgeable conversation with the man. The relationship had gone downhill faster than the markets. Next had been Ray. Ray was a schoolteacher, passionate about basketball. Flora had endured eight games before he’d complained that she wasn’t “engaged.” She’d been affronted. She was the master at faking interest in something, and in this case she’d done her homework. She’d learned about the chest pass, the bounce pass and the outlet pass. She’d yelled and punched the air when he’d yelled and punched the air. She’d thought she’d mirrored his reactions, but he’d sensed something lacking under her carefully choreographed enthusiasm.

She knew now that what had been lacking was motivation. She hadn’t been motivated to make the relationship work. He’d been right. She hadn’t been engaged. Not with him, not with Mr. Hedge Fund. She’d tried to show interest in what they enjoyed, without revealing her own interests.