“You sure you don’t want me to come in?” she whispers in my ear.
I shoot a look across the car. From this viewpoint, I can only see Jack’s fine ass as he stares at my house I inherited from my grandmother. On my illustrator’s income, I’d never be able to afford my own home.
My house is small and I’m not embarrassed of it—or at least I wasn’t until right this minute. There’s something about his still manner that makes me slightly defensive about the peeling paint on my wood siding and the loose boards on my porch.
Angrily, I remember the times he’d said he’d fix those things after he got through the interior repair list he’d made when he first moved in. He’d finished half the things on that list before he disappeared. Maybe he’s recalling that right now.
Plastering a bright smile on my face, I straighten and face my worried friend. “It’s better that I talk to him myself.”
“Alright,” she concedes reluctantly. She leaves me to stomp over to Jack. Shaking her finger in his face, she threatens, “Do anything to hurt Kate and Anna again and I’ll cut off your balls!”
Jack slides down his dark sunglasses and peers at Mae over the rims. “So noted.”
Mae sputters a bit at this response while my stupid vagina tightens in excitement. Asshole Jack has always held more than a little sex appeal. He was a jerk when I first encountered him and stayed cold to everyone else but me.
When we were together, I secretly liked the idea that I was the only one who could defrost him. After I was abandoned, I realized I’d never thawed his heart—not one degree.
I pull Anna out of the car and join the two. “Thanks for taking me to the store.” I give Mae a kiss on the cheek.
She hugs me back and whispers, “Put some sleeping pills in a beer and when he’s knocked out, we’ll get his balls.”
“I’d rather not,” I murmur. “He’s not going to stay that long.”
After Mae leaves, I lead a silent Jack up the stairs to the front door.
“Anna falls asleep in the car,” I explain needlessly, but he nods as if this is vital information. He follows me into the nursery and watches as I lift the sleeping baby out of the carrier and lower her gently into the crib. Grabbing the monitor off the changing table, I gesture for him to leave, but he’s not paying attention. He’s focused on the mural that stretches along the wall behind the crib.
“The nursery is beautiful. This is your work?” he asks quietly as he runs a fingertip along a faerie peeking over a bush. It took me three tries to get exactly the right finish so the wings would look transparent. Plaster isn’t the easiest thing to paint over. Those fresco artists were talented.
“Yes. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I started working on it.” I had to fit it in between commissions and the contracted book that Mae and I had to put out before the baby came, but it helped to pass the nine months, which were simultaneously too long and too short. “Mae put the varnish over to bring out the color.”
“You must be very successful.”
It’s weird how he acts as if he’s never been in this house before. Never touched a hammer here, fixed the back door, or seen this room. Sure, when he was here, the walls were covered with cherry blossoms and rice paper screens and sloped roofs of ancient Eastern temples, but it was still the same room.
“It’s been a long morning,” I tell him, frostily. “Maybe you should come back tomorrow.”
He pushes away from the wall and crosses the room until his feet are nearly touching mine. “If I leave today, I don’t think you’ll let me back into the house again. We have a lot to talk about.”
He gives me a small nudge out the door, tugs the baby monitor from my fist and shepherds me down the hall into my kitchen.
Without asking, he fills the kettle on the stove with water and starts to heat it. At least he remembers how to operate a sink. I sink into my chair and watch this whole performance with bemusement. The whole tea-making business takes less than a minute due to the very nice induction cooktop that Jack installed during the kitchen reno he undertook before he ghosted.
“This is quick,” he comments. “Nice.” He pats the unit before bringing over the teapot and mug for me.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Forgot this as well, did I?”
I tighten my fingers around the mug and contemplate throwing the hot water in his face. He wouldn’t miss that one. “I’m trying to be a rational adult here, but you’re not making it easy,” I reply tightly.