“You spoil her.”

Liza shrugged. “She’s gone through so much upheaval in the last month. I think it’s okay if she gets spoiled a little. Even her meltdown this morning was polite by normal-kid standards. It’s awful good to see her with kids her own age. She spends too much time with adults.”

“When this is over—” Irina began, then sighed. “I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot.”

“Me too.” Liza looked from the children to the living room doorway, her attention caught by a flash of gold—the light reflecting off Tom’s hair. He looked as amazing in jeans and a T-shirt as he did in a suit and tie. Her gaze lingered, remembering how hard the muscle was under that shirt. Then she resolutely looked away, only to find Irina watching her.

“I thought as much,” Irina murmured.

“Not his fault,” Liza murmured back, not trying to hide it anymore. “He loves it here. Don’t blame him. He’ll pull back into his shell, and he needs this family.”

“So do you.”

“And I’ll keep coming by. Don’t worry.”

“But I do. Did you get that job?”

“I did. I’m going to be working with a pediatric patient.” Liza patted the older woman’s knee. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“Do not tell me not to worry. It is what I do best.”

Liza smiled at that. “I thought party hostessing was what you did best. I bet there are a ton of Mercy’s family who would love to talk to you.”

“You are a menace, Liza. But you are right. Do not hide here all afternoon,” Irina chided, pushing to her feet. “Mingle with Mercy’s family. They are good people.”

“I know. I will.” But there were so many of them and Liza was still raw from yesterday’s argument with Tom, so she’d hide in the corner until she could make her excuses and escape.

“Well, hello.” The Southern drawl belonged to Farrah Romero, a beautiful Black woman who was a brilliant biophysicist and Mercy’s best friend. “Mind if I sit down?”

Liza patted the sofa cushion next to her with a smile. “Please do.” She liked Farrah a lot. The woman was one hundred percent loyal to Mercy. “How was your trip?”

Farrah and her fiancé, André, had arrived from New Orleans the night before with a number of the Romero family. A few of her half siblings had also flown in.

“Worth every harrowing moment,” Farrah said. “We were so nervous, worrying that Belmont would jump out from behind a luggage cart and shoot us, especially since André also shot him last month. But Rafe had it managed.”

“He really did. I didn’t understand why he’d hired so many security people, but now I get it.” Mercy had said he’d hired six people, but Liza had counted at least a dozen. Some were posted around the house and others accompanied the drivers of the SUVs that had shuttled them back and forth from the Sokolovs’ house.