by Apryl Baker
I get that familiar flutter in my stomach when I watch Jack smile at the kids. He picks Charlie up, hugging her to his chest and kissing her cheeks until she squeals. “How’s my girl?”
“Hawey’s hewe.” She points to me.
Jack’s eyes meet mine, and that stupid flutter intensifies. “I see that,” he says to her while looking at me. “Where’s Del?”
God, I love his voice. It’s slightly rough, and makes my brain short circuit. “She had an appointment. She’ll be back in a little bit.”
He comes toward me and holds out his arms to Jackson. “Come here, monkey man.” I hand him over to his papa and can feel his eyes on me, but I avoid them.
While Jack plays with the kids, I read the e-book I started the night before. I’m not sure how much time passes before I feel little hands on my knees. I set my e-reader down and smile at Jackson. “Hey, buddy.” He gives me a drooly, toothy grin as he stands up, holding onto me.
Jackson has a short attention span and gets down to spider man crawl across the room to his papa. “Charlie, do you want to help me pick up the toys before Mommy gets home?”
While picking up, I feel Jack’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. Delilah gets back while Charlie and I are still tidying up. I watch father and daughter share a moment when she tells Jack that she is, in fact, pregnant again.
I’m filled with a sense of longing. I would’ve loved for my father to love me like that, and I know I shouldn’t let it bother me because it’s been so long that I barely remember my father. I certainly don’t remember my mom, but there’s this loneliness that is constantly there.
Ugh, I shake those thoughts off because thinking about that now isn’t going to help me. I tell them goodbye, making my escape as quickly as possible. When I’m safely inside my home, I flop down on my couch and then lie on my side, curling in on myself.
As much as I love spending time with my wonderful neighbors, I’m alone—I’ve got no one. I get up, shaking off those thoughts. I head into my bedroom, changing into some cut-off sweats. I put my hair up in a knot. Heading into the backyard, I stick my earbuds in and get down in my flower gardens, pinching off the dying or dead parts.
I don’t know why it’s so relaxing, but I can lose hours out here. When I finish up, I head inside to shower.
***
I pull into the parking lot of Barnes and Noble and my palms begin to sweat. This is the first signing I’ve done, and I’m scared to death that no one will come. I did do a lot of advertising for it. I asked bloggers to share, and have shared with my readers on social media. Out of my trunk I grab my banner and the container with all of my swag: bookmarks, candy, pens.
The manager, Michelle, greets me at the door. “Hi, Eva—we’re so glad you could come today.” I’ve learned that it’s better just to tell people my name is Eva, instead of Harley. It causes too much confusion.
I hold out my hand. “Thanks for having me. I’m so excited to be here.”
She leads me to a table that has my books displayed on top of it. Michelle takes my banner for me and sets it up so it stands tall off to the side of my table. I’m nervous because there doesn’t seem to be anyone waiting to see me. Granted, the signing doesn’t start for twenty more minutes.
I lay out my swag on the table and grab a couple of pens and a marker out of my bag, laying them out on the other side of me. After that’s done, Michelle leads me to their little coffee shop and I grab a vanilla latte. I head back to my table and sit down behind it. I pull out my phone and check in on Facebook so anyone who follows me knows where I am.
My nerves kick in as I see the clock getting closer and closer to one o’clock. There are a few people here, but they’re milling around. I drink the rest of my latte and let Michelle know that I’ll be right back.
I use the bathroom and wash my hands. I check myself in the mirror and sigh. Working from home has its advantages, but when I actually get out I try to at least do my makeup and hair. I pull my lip gloss out and dab it on my lips. This color, candy apple red, is a lot more daring than I’m used to. Normally I stick to the clear gloss, but when I woke up I decided I wanted to be a little daring.
I grab my powder and swipe it over my nose, around my mouth, and my chin. In the mirror, I give myself a once-over. I decided to wear a pair of gray skinny jeans, a pair of peep-toe black booties, and a light hunter green gauzy t-shirt with a white cami underneath. I turn to look at my backside and sigh. “I really need to start working out more,” I whisper.
I’m just like every other woman: overly critical of my body. My boobs are too small, my hips are too wide, and my butt too big. Oh well—I can’t do anything about it right now. I take a deep breath before grabbing the door handle and stepping out into the hall.
When I reach the table, I see a couple of women standing a few feet away from my table talking to each other. Michelle walks up and smiles. “Don’t be nervous. People will start filtering in soon.”
As soon as I sit down, the two women waiting come toward me with big smiles. They’ve both read my books, and we start chatting. It makes my heart swell to see them both so passionate. They both buy my latest release and I sign it for them. After posing for pictures, I hug them both and watch them walk out.
For the first hour it’s sporadic, but then a line starts to form. I sign books, e-book covers, and bookmarks and pose for pictures. Everyone is nice, and so it’s easy to talk. When I look up, watching the girl whose book I just signed walk away, I spot Delilah, Shayla, and Carrie standing toward the end of the line.
They wave wildly and then give me the thumbs-up. It takes about twenty minutes before they reach me. “I know someone famous.” Delilah says it like I’m a movie star or something.
I come around and hug the three of them. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“We wouldn’t miss it.” Shayla gives me a huge smile. “Plus Erik loves it when I read your books.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Ewww…gross,” Delilah says while covering her ears. “I don’t want to hear that. He’s like my brother.”
“Yeah, but he is pretty hot,” Carrie adds.
Shayla holds up her hands. “No more talking about my hot fiancé. My hormones have made me crazy enough already.” She rubs a hand over her swollen belly.
They each grab the books they want to buy, and I get busy signing them while they chat about their kids. Even after losing my mom and then essentially my dad, I still wanted children. I wanted a loud, loving family that was close. Until the day I realized that it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m green with envy, and I shouldn’t be—I’m happy for my new friends, but I wish I was able to join in their conversation.
The four of us pose for a couple of pictures, and then I say goodbye.
I look at the clock and see that my time is up. I’ve had a lot of fun, and even made a new fan when the woman stopped at my table and asked me about my books. After we finished talking, she bought my first series.
I stand up as I begin clearing off the table. Moving around to the front, I look at what books are left. Michelle comes over to me. “You had a nice turnout.”
“I did! Thank you again for having me.” She heads back toward the front, and I hear a throat clearing behind me.
I’m sure the look on my face is comical when I find Jack of all people standing behind me. Of course the asshole looks hot as fuck in dark washed jeans and a dark gray t-shirt that molds to his chest and shows off his muscular arms. “H-Hey. What are you doing here?”
Jack runs a hand through his hair. “I was in the neighborhood and remembered you said you were signing books today. How’d it go?”
I’m struck speechless. I know I look ridiculous as my mouth opens and closes. I take a deep breath. “I-It went well. Thanks for asking.”
“Good. Will you sign one for me?” He walks up to the books still sitting on the table and grabs one off of the top. “This one.”
I take it from him and sit down. I pick up my pen and
open the front cover. This one was my favorite to write. It’s about two co-workers who don’t get along, and then after a drunken night they sleep together. She ends up getting pregnant, and they try making their relationship work. It’s not an easy journey, and it’s pretty angsty, but they do get their happily ever after.
After I sign it, I hand it to him. “Thank you for coming. That was so nice of you.”
His whole demeanor changes and it’s like he just shuts down. “I’m not nice—remember that.” He walks away leaving me confused and irritated. One thing I know for sure is I’m done trying to be nice to the asshole.
I signal Michelle to come grab the books that are left and quickly pack my stuff—making my escape before he comes back.
Once I’m home, I take everything into my office and put it away. I pull Fifty out of his cage, letting him hop all around the living room while I clean his cage and feed him. I grab myself a glass of wine. I head out to my swing and have a seat.
I sip my glass of Riesling and watch the birds fly around, singing to each other. Why did Jack bother coming if he was going to turn the asshole on? I swear I think he just hates me and loves giving me whiplash with his mercurial mood.
Lord knows he’s been avoiding me since the night I kissed him—not my finest moment, apparently. Kissing him awakened my slumbering libido, and now I’ve got sex on the brain constantly. It’s only been a week since it happened, but I can’t stop thinking about my lips on his, or the way he took complete control of the kiss.
I’ve only ever had two lovers, and they were long-ish relationships. It’s been four years since the last time I had sex, but honestly I have better orgasms when I masturbate. Lane and John were nothing to brag about, either. Of course Lane said I was a cold fish in bed, and that’s why he cheated. Then it made me tense up with John, so the sex was awkward and underwhelming.
But today is a new day. What if I went out, picked up a man, and had sex? Just a one-time thing, and then I’d never have to see him again? I review the pros and cons in my head over and over. Ugh, thanks a lot, Jack, for making me crazy and confused. I stand up and head inside, making the decision to just go out and see what the single men situation looks like.
In my bathroom I plug in my flat iron and then head into my bedroom. Two years ago, I bought my first little black dress, but I’ve never had the courage to wear it. I pull it out of the closet and look it over. Back in the bathroom I take a quick shower, rushing through shaving my underarms and legs. This impulsive idea makes me glad that I wax down below so I don’t have to worry about doing any shaving there.
I smooth lotion all over my body and then slip into an emerald green silk bra and panty set. I may not go out, and I may not always wear a bra, but when I do, I want something pretty. I put my robe on as I head into the bathroom to do my makeup.
I’d love to say I give myself smoky eyes and dewy skin, but instead I go for the “less is more” look, opting for some mascara, a little bronzer on my cheeks, and red-tinted gloss on my lips. I flat iron my curls and then pin my bangs to the side.
I slip into my dress, which is form-fitting and hits me right above my knees. The bodice is slimming and gives just a hint of cleavage. The sleeves are capped with ruffles around the edge. I can’t do heels so I slip on a pair of black wedges. I grab my iPad and Google bars that are within twenty minutes from my place. On Yelp I find a whiskey bar that looks promising. It’s eight o’clock and hopefully it’s not too busy. If it is, I’ll stay for a drink and then come home. I pop a mint in my mouth, grab my car keys, and lock up the house.
I sing along to the radio as I drive across town. I’m a terrible singer, but I’ll do anything to quell the nerves. I sing along to Heart while I pull into the parking lot of the bar and feel myself relax when I find there aren’t a ton of cars here.
Chapter Four
Jack
“Don’t worry about us. You guys deserve a night away,” I tell my daughter as my son-in-law drags her out of the house. They’re going to see Pink downtown, so I rented them a suite for the night. “I’ve got Elizabeth on speed dial.”
Delilah runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck. “I’m not worried. I just hate leaving them, but I love you and thank you for staying with them.”
I kiss her forehead and smile down at her. To me she’ll always be the little blonde girl with pigtails who’d make me spin her round and round until we’d fall to the ground. Her little giggles were the balm to my soul. It’s hard to look at her now and see that she’s a grown woman with a family of her own.
“Reece, take care of my daughter.” They wave from their SUV and pull out of the driveway. I close and lock the door behind me. In the living room, Charlie is glued to Peppa Pig, and luckily she was oblivious to her mom and dad leaving.
“Hey, my little nugget, I’m going to check on your brother, and how about Papa makes some dinner?”
I laugh and shake my head because she holds out her hand in a shooing motion, which I know she gets from her mother. Upstairs I find my namesake standing up in his crib. He reaches for me as soon as he sees me. I scoop him up and snuggle him to my chest. My boy loves me, that’s for sure.
While I change his diaper, we discuss the Bears’ chances of making it to the Super Bowl. He babbles away in his secret baby language. Once my boy is cleaned up, I carry him downstairs. I hear Jinx barking from the backyard so I let him in.
My eyes go to Harley’s backyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of her—stupid I know, but there’s just something about her that pulls me in and makes me want to make stupid decisions…the kind of decisions that left me with a crazy ex-wife who was going to steal my grandbaby and sell her.
***
Jackson’s crying so hard it’s almost a scream. The kiddo went down for the night a few hours ago, and when he started screaming it scared the shit out of me. I ran upstairs and found he’d overflowed his diaper. He was sitting in the middle of his crib screaming bloody murder with big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
I took him into the bathroom, got him cleaned up, and dressed in fresh pjs. He cried the whole time. Now we’re downstairs and I’ve tried rocking him, bouncing him, and singing to him, but he’s still inconsolable.
Headlights flash across the living room and I look out the front window to see Harley pulling into her driveway. I open the front door, and she must hear Jackson’s screaming because she looks toward us. “I need help,” is all I say and she comes rushing over.
“What’s going on?” Harley walks up the steps. “Jackson, what’s the matter?” She plucks Jackson from my arms and walks right by me into the house.
“He’s been like this for about the past hour. If you’ve got him, I’ve got to go grab his bedding. The kid shit up his back, his front, and all over his crib.”
She hugs the baby to her chest and kisses his forehead. I watch her place her hand on his forehead. “Do you have a thermometer? He feels warm.”
I run upstairs and grab it. Harley takes it from me and runs it over his forehead. When it beeps, she looks at the display. “He’s got a low-grade fever. Do they have some children’s fever reducer?”
“Let me check.” Up in the nursery I find the ibuprofen and take it downstairs to her. I’m ashamed to admit I’m freaking out a bit. I’ve been deployed, I’ve seen and done things I wish I could forget, I’ve dealt with a psychotic ex-wife and delivered my granddaughter, but now…now I feel like I’m failing my grandson because I didn’t realize he was sick.
Harley reads the label, and then brings me my boy. “Take him while I get his medicine ready.” She disappears into the kitchen and returns with a little syringe-looking thing with purple liquid in it. “Hey, little man, I need you to take this.” She grabs Jackson gently by his cheeks, puts the tip of the syringe in his mouth, and slowly gives him the medicine.
Half of it he spits out, but she just scoops it up with her finger and brings it to his lips. My grandson obviously knows a good thing when he sees it
because he lunges for her, gripping her hair and burying his face in her neck as he whimpers.
Eventually, it’s four in the morning, and I’m exhausted and half delirious. Harley and I have taken turns getting up with Jackson—or I should say, sitting up with him. His fever went down, but the poor kid is restless. Right now I’m at one end of the couch while Harley is asleep on the other end, facing the back with Jackson lying in between.
While she snores softly, my grandson plays with the ends of his hair and drinks his bottle of Pedialyte. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her help tonight. She didn’t once act like it was bothersome for her to be here, and even when he had an explosion that got all over the sexy as fuck dress she was wearing, she just smiled, ran home to get clean clothes, and then took a shower in the hall bathroom.
When she was in the shower I threw her dress and Jackson’s pajamas in the wash, hoping that the material wouldn’t be ruined. I’d really like to see her in it again.
I texted Reece an hour ago just so he’d know what they were coming home to. If I know my daughter, they’ll be home by eight if not sooner.
Luckily every time I’ve checked on Charlie she’s been passed out in her princess bed that I bought her for her third birthday. Jinx is oblivious to all the drama going on, sleeping tucked into Charlie’s side.
By the time seven o’clock rolls around, Jackson is finally sleeping, but only if he’s on Harley. We tried to move him, but he screamed his head off. I got them situated on Del and Reece’s bed surrounded by pillows—just in case, but the kid hasn’t moved since.
I watch the two of them sleeping curled up together and I feel a foreign feeling in my chest. I rub at it, trying to make it go away, but I’m interrupted when I hear that sweet little voice.
“Papa!” My girl is always happy when she wakes up.
I put my finger in front of my lips, and she copies me. “Brother is sick, and finally sleeping. Can you be a big girl and be quiet?”