CARA's POV
By the time we pulled through the front gates of the Morano estate, the sun had started its slow descent. Golden light poured across the stone courtyard, soaking everything in a lazy, molten warmth. I stepped out of the SUV with a stretch and a sigh, my shirt sticking to my back and dust clinging to my calves. My hair had half-fallen out of its bun, but I didn’t care. I felt good—tired in the best way. My sketchpad was full of notes and ideas, and the Bridgetown gallery was finally starting to look like something real.
The smell of garlic and chilies met me before I even reached the front door.
Angela was in the kitchen, stirring a thick, red sauce in a pan that hissed with oil. She glanced over her shoulder, her curls pulled into a high puff, her face glowing with sweat and pride.
“Look at you,” she said, grinning. “You’re glowing.”
“That’s sweat,” I said, toeing off my shoes by the threshold.
“Mmhmm. Pregnancy glow then.” She turned back to the stove, flicking her wrist w
