I stared.
“But,” he added quickly. “If the penis isn’t an option, you could always win him with his stomach. The stomach can sometimes forgive just as readily as the penis.”
“I do think I’ve heard that before. About the stomach, I mean.”
Chris nodded wisely. “So you make him an amazing dinner. Invite him over. Candles, sexy music. Oh, and wear something that shows plenty of cleavage. You’ve got to demonstrate that you’re so sorry you’ll do anything, including lower your moral standards to make it up to him.”
I blinked. “Does Belle know this is the way your mind works?”
“Belle learned that she had to accept me, whether she liked it or not.”
“I’m not sure if that’s romantic or tragic.”
“It’s neither. And the sex is great, if you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t, but thanks.”
“So,” Chris hopped on the couch across from me and picked up the plate I’d picked at for my lunch. There were a few bites taken from a peanut butter and jam sandwich. Without hesitating, Chris picked it up and polished it off in a few rapid bites. He licked his thumb and forefinger clean and frowned. “Do you use jam instead of jelly?”
“Uh, yes? It’s easier to spread. Why?”
“It’s also easier to use the bathroom on the floor than walk ten steps to the toilet, but you don’t see me doing that. Do you?”
I was beginning to regret asking Chris for help. He picked up the water I’d been drinking and drained the rest of it, shaking his head like he was trying to wash down a bitter pill. “God. Maybe cooking is just going to make him more pissed at you, on second thought.”
“I can cook.”
“Yeah? Chelsea thinks she can cook, too. If the goal was to cause depression and kill small children, then she’s a world-class chef. But I’ve learned not to take someone’s word for it on their culinary skills.”
“You know, thanks so much for the advice, Chris. You’ve… given me a lot to think about.”
He clapped his hands together, got up, and nodded. On his way to the door, he scooped a handful of candy from the little jar that usually lasted me several weeks. Until now.
He popped it all in his mouth, chewed a few times, then swallowed. “First time’s free. Second time my rate is a thousand dollars per hour when it comes to relationship consultations. Oh, and if you need someone to watch the kids while you two work it out—and in,” he added with a self-congratulatory smirk. “Just holler. Belle and I are great babysitters.” He clicked his tongue, pointed at nothing in particular, then closed the door.
Okay.
If I sorted through the piles and piles of nonsense, I could at least agree with Chris on one point. Inviting Jack over for a peacemaking meal might be exactly what the doctor ordered. I briefly considered doing what I always did, which would be to call Lindsey and Luca for their advice. Except I knew they really did have a big event going on for their budding sports pin business today and didn’t want to bother them with my drama.
So I went online to find the best possible recipe and started laying my plans as carefully as I could.34JackI knew exactly what the smart thing to do would be when Nola’s text came through. Ben and I had just arrived back in New York, and now she was inviting me to dinner at her place and promised she had arranged for Damon to watch the kids for us. I never would’ve expected Damon to offer childcare, but when I’d called and confirmed with him, he revealed he was only doing it because the alternative was leaving them with his brother, Chris.
But I knew what I should’ve done. I should’ve sent a text back right away apologizing and telling her that I wouldn’t be able to make it. It was that simple.
The business with Florida had given me a firm reminder that I didn’t know Nola as well as I thought I did. There was a hidden side to her, no matter how well intentioned or not it might have been. And I couldn’t afford to risk my son’s happiness with someone I couldn’t trust.
Except I’d sent her a message saying I’d come.
Maybe I just wanted to put a more firm end note on this whole thing. The hasty retreat from the hotel had felt incomplete somehow. Like there were still frayed edges either of us could pull and entangle ourselves in. This dinner could be my way to get out the scissors and clean everything up. A clean break. No strings. No snags. Just separation.
It didn’t matter if that idea made my stomach feel empty and my chest grow cold. All that mattered was Ben. I just wished I believed I was a good enough father for that to be entirely true.