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"So chocolate, vanilla, or rocky road?"

"Chocolate and vanilla. How does that toot your horn?" I wagged my brows at her and she cracked up.

"You toot my horn every day, my sweet Rosie." She kissed my cheek and I about melted. My smile never ended at that point as I gazed at her. Samirah came into my life and made everything seem lighter and brighter. And so much more fun.

When the pie cooled adequately, I scooped out giant helpings into the bowls and Sam piled on the ice cream. Like two bandits in the night, we stole away to the sofa. We sat facing each other, with our crossed legs touching at the knees, and Sam dove in for the first bite.

"Oh my God, Rosie, this is delicious."

"Thanks." My face burned with shyness as I took a small bite of pie with the perfect proportion of ice cream. "My grandmother taught me how when I was really little. I remember a few things."

"You realize that you're going to have to bake for me now, right?" She nearly beamed with delight.

Keys jingled in the hallway and we both looked over to see Alex bustling in. She stopped short when she saw us, then let out a deep groan and pretended to drop to her knees.

"It smells amazing in here."

"I made the pies," I said while laughing at her. Samirah wasn't a beat behind.

"Oh my God, you're eating it?" She tossed her purse on the table then leaned over the back of the sofa. "Can I have some?—Hi, Samirah—Can I?"

"Hi." Sam wore an amused grin at Alex's theatrics.

"Yes." I chuckled and nodded to the kitchen.

"Right now. Put it in my mouth." She opened her mouth and waved her hands toward her face.

I shoved a spoonful at her and she ate it while laughing hard. "Yeffs!"

"Okay, now go fix your own." I waved her off and she pranced toward the kitchen. "Show off."

"She's a ham," Samirah said, smiling at the two of us. "Is she always?"

"Not always. Food makes her excited."

"I heard that," called Alex while she fixed herself some dessert.

"The two of you are both tiny. Are you sure you're not actually related?" Sam glanced between the two of us. "Alex, are you blonde under the mane of painted auburn?"

"Nope." Alex licked some ice cream off her spoon before carrying her catch to the living room. She plopped down in the saggy armchair and tucked her legs under her. "It's the orphan kid bone structure of neglect and malnourishment in our formative years."

Sam's brow furrowed and she glanced between us. "You were an orphan?"

"Little Orphan Annie at your service." She pretended to tip a fake hat.

"Sorry to hear that. How'd it happen?" Sam's serious tone changed the direction of our conversation.

"Never knew my dad. My mom overdosed when I was about four. I don't remember her, but I remember all the foster homes and group homes. That's how Rosie and I met. The Seattle foster care circuit." Alex nodded in my direction. "You were like twelve? Thirteen?"

"About that," I agreed. "We were in the same group home together for about a year at first."

"Then out to different foster homes, then back to the group home together within a year of leaving."

I nodded and looked to Sam. "Does it bother you to hear about it?"

"It doesn't, baby. It's part of your life." She squeezed my thigh and I smiled.

"Rosie, this is amazing," Alex said with a full mouth.