He rolls his eyes at me.
“Can we have mac and cheese for dinner?” he asks, completely ignoring me.
I should tell him that we need to eat chicken and rice and broccoli, which was the original plan. But you know what? I also want some blue box deliciousness tonight.
“You know what Jones? You can absolutely have mac and cheese tonight.”
He cries out with joy, and then keeps working on a doodle on the paper in front of him.
Me: How does Saturday morning sound for Jones to help with your bike?
Cole: I work Saturdays, but I can do early evening on Friday or anytime Sunday.
“Hey Jones, how would you feel about spending some time helping Cole with his motorcycle this weekend?”
Jones’ head pops up and his eyes nearly bug out of his head.
“Really?” he says. When I nod, he shoots out of his chair and starts bouncing around the house.
Me: I just told the kiddo and he’s zooming around the house making airplane noises. I don’t think he knows the difference between a bike and a plane.
Cole: He’ll know better soon :)
Me: Well, he is through the roof with excitement. So lets do tomorrow night after you’re done with work. Whatever time is fine.
Cole: Alright. I’ll shoot you a text when I’m heading home. But lets tentatively plan for 4pm.
“Oh shit!” I say, slamming the box of mac and cheese down on the counter. I just caught sight of the plate of cookies I made yesterday. I completely forgot about them.
Well. Looks like I’ll be making a run by The Garage tomorrow to drop them off.
“Alright Jonesie, come help mama put this delicious stuff together!”
He stops making the plane noises and scampers into the kitchen, standing up on the chair I’ve pulled over to the counter.
And just as I’m about to explain to him what we’re doing, he says, “I heard you say shit.”
I burst into laughter.
Kids, man. They’re hilarious.
«««« »»»»
On my way to drop Jones off at daycare the next morning, I swing us through The Garage to drop off some cookies. I walk in, plastic plate in one hand, and Jones’ little fingers in my other, and smile at a young man I don’t recognize behind the counter.
“Hi, I’m wondering if I can speak to the owner please?”
“Is it something I can help you with?” he asks, leaning forward and eyeing the treats.
I laugh. “Well, I just wanted to thank him for helping me, and drop these off. Is he here?”
“Gimme just a sec.” He turns and walks into the main work area and towards the back. “Yo, C!” he shouts as he nears the office spaces. “You got a visitor!”
I glance down at Jones, who is doing something completely abnormal and just standing there patiently.
“You okay, dude?” I ask.
He looks up at me, his face so serious.
“Yes.”
I bite back my smile. “Really? Because you seem a little intense.”
“Well, I don’t want to get in trouble.”
I laugh a little bit.
“You’re normally never afraid of getting in trouble. What’s different about today?”
He just stares up at me and says one word. “Motorcycles.”
At that I laugh really hard.
“Hey, sorry,” the worker comes back. “He’s on an important call. Do you want me to take them back to him?”
My shoulders drop. “Well, I’d really hoped to say thank you in person. It just seems more, I don’t know. But, yeah I guess, if you could give these to him, and let him know Annie McAllister with the really horrible ’98 Camry really appreciates everything, that would be great.”
The man smiles and accepts the plate from me. “I’ll make sure he gets them.”
“Thanks so much.”
Then I turn to my little guy, where he stands so proper.
“Time for daycare,” I say, and Jones grins, still gripping my hand, and walking calmly out to the car next to me.
CHAPTER TEN
COLE
Any logical person is going to wonder why I’m hiding the fact I own The Garage from Annie. And the truth is? I don’t actually know.
Well, not entirely.
What I do know is that she seems to only ask for help when she feels like it’s her only option, but she always seems really awkward and uncomfortable about it. Like, when she thanked me several times for bringing over food the day we met. Or when she thanks me over and over for being nice to her kid.
Even our chat the other day, when she finally accepted that I care about her happiness, was tinged with tears and a lot of emotion. I swear, the woman doesn’t know what it’s like to have a man be nice to her.
So instead of heading out to greet her when she comes by the shop, and thanking her for the cookies and getting the awkwardness out of the way, I avoid it.
Because avoiding things always works out so well.
«««« »»»»
“Dude, you did such a good job,” I say to Jones, who is just finishing up cleaning the headlamp on my bike.
I have an old Bonneville Bobber, a 1978 Triumph 750 that I got when I was first working on cars and bikes. She’s a beauty, and I treat her as well as I can, but I bought her off a guy who treated her like shit. It took a few years for me to bring her back to her glory days.
Which is why I have the kid working on things that won’t risk him damaging anything. Maybe when he’s older, I’ll have more confidence in his skill. And I know if something happens, it won’t be the end of the world.
But why risk it? If I have him use his little hands to clean things that are tiny, he feels accomplished, and I don’t feel nervous. A win-win, I think.
“Really?” he asks, his little eyes lighting up.
“Yeah, man. I might even have a bigger project for you to work on, if you think you’re up to it.” I look side-to-side, then back at him. “But it’s a big deal.”
His little face is so serious. “I can do it, I promise.”
“Hmmm.” I pretend to take him in, then stick my fist out. “Promise, promise?”
He nods his head incredibly hard and bumps his little hand against mine. “Promise, promise.”
We continue on like that for another hour or so, and Jones tells me all about his daycare. It’s actually adorable, because he’s only been there for like, a few days, and he already has the lay of the land.
“But my best friend Tyler?” See? He already has a best friend. Kid’s killing it. “He said his dad was going to take him to see a hockey game. And that sounds so cool. My dad used to like hockey a lot. He always went to Backhack games.” I’m pretty sure he means Blackhawk, but I don’t correct him. I can’t stand the Blackhawks.
I glance over at Jones, ready to ask him if he likes hockey, but his little face looks so sad. “Do you think they have hockey in heaven?” he asks.
And my heart… it just, cracks right in half.
I give him a small smile, and then scoot over so I’m sitting right next to him. I take the wrench from his hand, that he was just holding on to, but not using, and I set it down on the driveway. Then I look him right in the eyes.
“You know, Jones, I don’t know if I believe in heaven.” He gasps when I say it, and I immediately know I have to say the next part just right, or there might be a big problem with Annie later. “But I do believe that if your dad loved hockey, wherever he is now, he’s doing exactly what he loved.”
That gets me a smile, and he seems content to go back to what he was working on before, which is playing with the wrench and not actually helping.
I may need to bring this up with Annie later so she doesn’t think I’m trying to turn the kid atheist or something.
“You miss your dad?” I ask, getting a vibe that Jones wants to talk about him.
“I don’t know,” he says.
I have to admit, I’m a little surprised by his answer.
But he is pretty young. So maybe he still doesn’t understand that his dad isn’t coming back.
“Okay.” It’s all I say in response. I don’t want to make him think there’s something wrong with him for not answering the way I think he should.
“I mean, maybe. Sometimes. Like, I miss the time we went to see the Cubs and I got to sit near the field. And I got a ball signed by Anthony Rizzo! He said hi to me!” His little face lights up, and I hope this is a chance for him to remember good things about his dad. “And it was so fun that one time he took me on my bike. He told me he’d take my trainers off and teach me how to do it but he was busy.” he sighs and picks back up the wrench off the ground. “He was always busy.”
I nod my head, watching him sort through his memories. It makes me sad for him. When I was a kid, I didn’t know my dad. But if someone had asked me about my mom, I would have had a million memories of her and things I loved. It’s almost like his dad wasn’t really there for him either.
“What else?” I prompt, hoping I’m wrong. Hoping his face stays big and happy and he starts tumbling out with all of the good times with his dad. Maybe fishing, or going on walks, or going to the park, or movie nights. Anything.
He shrugs, though, and his mouth turns down. “I know my mom is really sad he’s gone. But he made her cry all the time. And he was always mad. I didn’t like it.” He looks down at the wrench in his hands. “I think mom and I are happy now.”
My stomach turns over. Have I completely misread this situation?
Any time Annie has even hinted about her ex, she has seemed devastated, either close to tears or in full-on sob mode. Is it possible she’s just adjusting to living on her own after being with a man that treated her like shit?
I watch Jones get up and start re-cleaning the headlamp. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what man with a kid like Jones doesn’t spend every free moment he has teaching him shit and trying to make him laugh.
“Well, can I tell you a secret?” I say, and his little eyes look over at me, pausing his scrubbing, giving me a little nod. “I’m really, really happy you moved in next door to me. I really like being your friend.”
The smile he gives me is so bright, I’m nearly blinded.
“And my mom’s friend too?” he asks.
“Of course. Your mom is great.”
He nods, his look of determination coming back as he tries to get off what I think might be a scratch, not a mark.
“Good. Because she doesn’t have any of those. I heard her tell my Mimi that last week. She said she feels alonely.” I want to smile at his mispronunciation, but my hear hurts at what it means. “And now that I have my best friend Tyler, I can’t be her best friend anymore.”
I think I finally understand the stereotype about women who sit around and eat ice cream all day. Except in the place of ice cream, I’m thinking whiskey. Because I feel like I’m getting hit after hit as this kid keeps sharing shit with me that makes me wonder what kind of life Annie lived before coming here.
And, of course, what I can do to make the life she’s living now even fractionally better.
«««« »»»»
“Thanks again for having Jones over to play with your motorcycle,” she says, leaning her shoulder against the door frame. “He loves spending time with you.”
I nod, realizing for the first time that Jones might be looking for some of that paternal shit from me. My brain almost fritzes out at that, so I push the thought to the side and focus on more important stuff, like what’s happening right now.
“Well, I think he’s pretty great.” I glance over where Jones is laying in the grass out front, staring up into the sky. Who knows what’s on that kid’s mind right now? I lower my voice and lean forward. “Just so you know, he talked to me about his dad being in heaven. I may have said I don’t believe in heaven. I hope that isn’t an issue.”
She shrugs. “We’re Catholic, but the kind that goes to mass on Christmas and Easter. I just want my kid to not be a shitty person. It’s up to him to decide what he wants to believe in life. I’m not worried about it.”
My shoulders relax just slightly. But when a set of headlights scans across us as a car pulls into my driveway, I feel them tense right back up.
Huh. That’s new.
I look over and see Jess climb out of her car, an expression on her face that I recognize as displeased but pretending not to be. It takes everything in me not to sigh, loudly and audibly for the entire block to hear.
It would work out for her to pull up right as Annie is saying goodbye after I spent time with Jones. That’s literally just how the world works.
“Hey babe!” I shout out to her. “I thought you were gonna be here at least an hour ago.”
I kick off the front door and head over to her car, giving Annie a tight smile as I pass.
“I told you I was running late. I left a voicemail. Maybe you’ve been busy and just didn’t check your phone.”
The veiled implication is not as veiled as she thinks it is.
“Thanks again for hanging out with Jones, Cole,” Annie calls out from behind me. “It was nice to have some time to myself. I’ll see you later.” Then she turns and looks at her son. “Lets go mister. It’s time for food.”
“Can we go to McDonald’s?” Jones asks.
“Sure,” she says.
“Oh my gosh, really?” he yells. And then he’s sprinting across the yard and towards his front door.
“Yep, just go wash your hands first.”
Annie turns back to look at us. “Good to see you, Jess.” And then she heads into her house.
I motion for Jess to pop open the trunk and she does, her expression one of frustration. I grab her bags and we walk silently into the house.
The minute I close the front door, I feel like I need to say something to clear the air.
“Before you cuss me out, you should know…”
“Cole,” she says, interrupting me. “I’m not mad you were talking to Annie. Okay? I’m mad because my boss said the bank is downsizing and some of us are going to get relocated, and I tried to call and talk to you about it, but you didn’t answer and I had to drive the entire way here upset with no one to talk to.” She takes a breath. “And then when I got here, you were talking with Annie and hanging out with her and her kid when I felt like I needed you.”
My expression goes from placating to surprised. “What?”
It’s then I notice she looks frustrated, yes, but also nervous and a bit sad, expressions I’m definitely not used to seeing on her face.
She nods. “I might get laid off, or have to relocate to another branch, and I don’t want to have to fucking move.”
I step forward and wrap my arms around her. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright?” I place a kiss at the crown of her head. The easiest thing to do right now is try to take her mind off it. “Obviously, I can’t fix this. But lets go spend some time in the Jacuzzi, okay? I’ll give you a back massage, and we can forget about all of the shit that makes life suck.”
She gives me a smile, finally, then tips up on her toes and plants a kiss on my lips.
“Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANNIE
I don’t know what exactly wakes me up that night, but I know what keeps me from falling back asleep.
I’m actually a really heavy sleeper, which was shitty when Jones was first born because I struggled to wake up to him crying on the baby monitor, even when I set it to the loudest setting. Andrew always had to wake me up so I could go breastfeed. It sucked and made me feel like a shit mom. It didn’t help that he’d make stupid comments about me not having motherly instincts like other women he knew.
So, if I get dragged out of my incredibly deep slumber to handle something, it takes me at least a few hours to fall back to sleep. But I have a routine now that helps.
I make some chamomile tea, then turn on the light in my bedroom and read for a little bit. I don’t know wh
at it is about this specific process, but it has had a pretty good rate of getting me sleepy within 30-45 minutes, which is wonderful when I used to stare at the ceiling and toss and turn for hours.
On this particular Friday night, I begin my routine by crawling out of bed and putting on my robe. I don’t know how the robe got involved in this mess. Maybe it just makes me feel classy to put on a silky (see: shitty cheap rayon) robe and sashay (see: stumble) into the kitchen and put on the kettle (see: boil some water).
After shrugging on my robe and peeking in on Jones, who is asleep with his mouth wide open and drool pouring out, I head to the kitchen and fill up a pot.
And it’s while I’m standing at the sink in the dark that there’s movement outside of the window that draws my eye. I glance at the clock on the oven. 2:48. I’m fairly certain I can assume that’s a morning time and not afternoon, so it makes no sense that anyone would be out in the…
I immediately look away when I realize what I saw moving was Cole in his backyard. A very shirtless Cole devouring Jess’ mouth while she stands pressed against him. I slap the sink handle off then move over to the stove to boil the water.
It only takes a minute for it to heat up. And in that minute, I have to physically restrain myself from looking back out the window. I wouldn’t call myself a voyeur. I’m not really into porn or anything. But I have always found it interesting to watch other people kiss.
The very first time I saw Andrew at school, he was kissing someone else. I couldn’t look away and I always assumed it was just because I was interested in him. But a few months later, when his sights shifted and set on me, the interest in kissing Andrew was there, but the interest in watching others kiss didn’t go away like I thought it would.
I was never a big partier. I don’t really drink and I had both a steady boyfriend and a mom that gave me a box of condoms and would have allowed me to have sex in my bedroom if I wanted to. So it isn’t like I had to sneak out to see him or hook up or experience the lusty part of being in a high school relationship.
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