Page 17

SIXTEEN

JACK

NOVEMBER

The adrenaline had firmly worn off. My face, and my body, hurt. I used the garage code to go into the house since Mara had my keys. Usually, the garage door was loud, but the sound of singing from inside was louder.

I almost can’t describe the scene because it’s so cheesy it makes me uncomfortable.

I opened the door to find Mara at the kitchen sink, leading the song. Aspen, Jace, and Harper sat lined up at the island and Hazel clutched Mara’s leg. Mara scrubbed a dish and rinsed it, putting it in the dish drying rack. Hazel was bopping, bouncing her butt in that toddler dance way. They were taking turns singing the backup and the melody, Mara calling out their names when it was their turn to sing the words.

It was perhaps the most wholesome shit I’d ever seen.

I’d seen our nannies playing well with my kids, and that was always sweet and touching. But something about this hit different. The connection and ease Mara had with my kids ran deeper than what you’d expect from a twenty-something nanny.

Like a flash of lightning, a new life appeared before me. Hugging Mara from behind at the sink and kissing her neck. Planting a kiss on each kid and giving out big hugs. Making some joke that made them all laugh. Growling like a bear to make them squeal.

It was the life I’d always dreamed of but never had with Sydney. It’s the stuff of TV shows and movies, something I only had for a fleeting moment as a kid.

I wanted it, but had no realistic way to get that life. I pressed the heel of my hand against my chest, a pressure like heartburn setting in.

But here in this moment, both my kids were glowing. Mara looked lit from within. I swallowed hard and thought about how my kids smiled less since the divorce. They were resilient, sure, and still generally happy kids. But I think my split with Sydney robbed them of a little of their innocence.

I was sure Mara and her kids had the same. Aspen filled some of that emptiness in Harper. When they talked about both their parents being divorced, they were excited. It was something they could both understand and have in common. Harper wasn’t alone anymore because she had Aspen.

And since I met Mara, I didn’t feel as alone.

That thought hit me like a ton of bricks.

I folded my arms and leaned into the doorway while I watched them, both exhausted and completely reinvigorated at once. I cleared my throat and Mara finally caught sight of me, straightening and blushing.

“Oh, hi, Jack,” she said, cutting off the song. Jace and Harper let out a chorus of “Daddy!” and got off their stools, running at me. Hazel joined the enthusiasm and waddled toward me, reaching for me to pick her up. So, I did.

That kid knew how to get to me. She could be covered in horseshit and do that reach and even though she’s not my kid, I’d have picked her up. I hugged my two and kissed the tops of their heads, then walked to see Aspen looking awkward at the island.

“Hey, bud. My stick worked great today because of you,” I said, offering him a high five. He gave me a weak smile but slapped my hand. I had his sister on my hip and I don’t know, it just felt like the kid needed a hug. I’d been that kid: wanting affection and not knowing how to get it. I leaned in, wrapped my arm around his shoulder, and gave him a squeeze.

And last, I turned to Mara, who was still washing dishes at the sink. “You can just put those in the dishwasher, you know,” I said. “And honestly, don’t worry about it. You did enough today.”

“Dishwashers and I don’t get along,” she said with a wry smile. “All that bending kills my back.”

“Let me do it,” I said. “Just set them there and I’ll take care of it.”

“Eat,” she said. “There’s plenty left. These kids eat like birds.”

“I will. You sit, though.” I peeked at the clock. “My kids, it’s almost bedtime. Why don’t you have your cookie and then go up and get ready for bed? After I eat, we’ll take Miss Mara and Aspen home.”

All three of the older kids whined. “Daddy, I want to have a slumber party,” Harper said. “Please? You never let us have slumber parties.”

I sighed, getting out a plate. “Go get ready for bed and let me and Mara talk about it, okay?”

They thundered out of the room and I glanced at Mara. “Thoughts?”

“Aspen’s never slept over anywhere,” she said, picking at the countertop. “I don’t know if I’d leave him here alone.”

I popped my jaw forward. “Alright.”

She looked pensive. “And just thinking logistics, we need a ride home at some point. And if the kids are down for bed, I can’t exactly take an Uber with Hazel.”

I nodded, going to press my lips together but finding that activity too painful. “True. Unless you all stay?”

“Oh, we couldn’t?—”

“Mil.” Hazel stood next to Mara’s chair.

I was still opening containers and filling my plate, so I reached into the fridge. “Does she want a glass of milk?”

But when I looked up, Mara already had Hazel in her lap and was lifting her shirt. “Oh. Ohhhhh. Right. Sorry, I forgot.”

Mara smirked. “Jack, you know it’s fine if you can’t handle it. I’ll only judge you a little bit.”

“No! No, I can handle it. Breastfeeding is totally natural,” I said, coughing and running my hand through my hair. “And the longer the better . . . I mean I guess unless they’re like seven—unless you’re still nursing Aspen. That’s totally fine. That’s your choice. It’s?—”

Mara laughed. “Jack, it’s fine. I let my kids figure out when they’re done. Aspen was done at eleven months. He was too busy to sit and eat, and I can’t run around with a boob out.”

I laughed a little too loud and a little too hard. Why did it suddenly feel so hot in my kitchen? Was the thermostat acting up? It wasn’t the breastfeeding that was the issue. It was that I couldn’t stop thinking about Mara’s boobs, and I knew it was the wrong time to do that. This was entirely a me problem and not a Mara problem.

Was there an appropriate time to think about her boobs? Probably not.

“You know what? I’ll have some milk too.”

“From the tap?” Mara asked, pushing her shoulder forward to imply her breast was the tap.

I choked on my own spit and Mara cackled. I turned my back and with fumbly hands, I filled a glass with milk and finished filling a plate with food. I slammed the refrigerator door so hard it teetered like it’d fall down.

I wasn’t lying. I really do believe breastfeeding, chestfeeding, whatever the hell if you wanna tie a bottle to your armpit for all I care, is great. Normal. Fine. Do it if you want. Don’t do it if you don’t want. Fed is best. All that.

The problem was that this woman who was saved in the secret folder on my phone had her breasts out at my kitchen island and I was very certain they were wonderful breasts. I knew it was wrong to make her feel ogled when she was just feeding her kid.

Whatever you do, do not look at her breasts.

God, now where was I going to sit? Based on her position at the island, if I sat too far away it would be weird, like I was trying to avoid them.

So I sat right next to them.

Mara was already switching sides, meaning Hazel’s head was almost in my lap.

Totally. Fine.

I tried so fucking hard to mind my goddamn business and just eat my food, but I could feel Hazel’s eyes on me.

“You watching Mr. Jack?” Mara cooed.

Hazel was so fucking cute and I’m not a monster. I couldn’t help but entertain her.

“Hi, little girl,” I said, resisting the urge to swipe some of that downy strawberry-blonde hair off her forehead.

With a wide smile and a chuckle, Hazel popped off Mara’s breast.

And suddenly, my arm was getting sprayed by breastmilk.

“Oh, oh, shit, oh, no,” Mara said, trying to get Hazel back on. “Sorry, this side’s kind of a firehose once it gets going. Bit of a sprayer.”

I reached for a paper napkin off the counter and almost put it on Mara’s beautiful berry-colored nipple myself, but realized that was a bad idea and threw the napkin at it like it was a spider that startled me. “I’m trying not to look! Or touch you! But I’m trying to be helpful!” I yelped. “How can I help?”

And she wasn’t kidding about the firehose comment. The side of my dress shirt had a dotted line of breastmilk across it, and my arm was almost dripping. Hazel thought this whole scene was hysterical, laughing like I was doing some slapstick comedy bit.

Mara seemed to be holding back a laugh. “Just go change your shirt. Never expected you to be such a gentleman, Jack Leroy. Sorry I drenched you.”

“No, you have no reason to apologize. It’s just?—”

Mara was tittering, her face red. “You were so cute trying to fix it.”

“I’m not cute,” I said, affronted. Our eyes met, and then we both let it loose, laughing in that breathless way where you’re not sure if you’ll die from laughing. She was gorgeous, having an authentic belly laugh—and sharing it with me.

“Well,” she said as she recovered, “at least we got that out of the way.”

I started unbuttoning my shirt and standing to go change. Jace, Harper, and Aspen scurried into the room all ready for bed, Aspen even dressed in a pair of Harper’s pajamas. “Can we do the sleepover?”

I looked over at Mara. “Your call.”

Mara smirked next to me. “Sure!”