Running his hands through his hair, not having a clue what to say to his little boy, Jackson headed for the kitchen.
“That’s real mature!” Julie shouted after him. “Just walk away when our son is crying out for help!”
Oh—now she wanted to play the maturity game? With everything in him, Jackson wanted to tell this woman—this destroyer of their lives—just what he truly thought of her. But then he caught sight of Dillon. The way his lower lip trembled. Heart aching, Jackson went to his kid, easily lifting him into his arms.
“I love you,” he said quietly in Dillon’s ear. “Everything’s going to be all right. Promise.”
Dillon squirmed and bucked against him. “Put me down. I want Mommy.”
Jackson did put Dillon down, silently watching while Dillon ran to Julie for a hug. But whereas he’d have fully expected Julie’s expression to be triumphant, the gaze she shot over their son’s shoulder was remorseful and threatening tears.
Tears? Was such a thing even possible from the woman he’d secretly dubbed the Ice Queen?
“Hey, bud,” Jackson said, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse. “You need to get on with that bath.”
“I will, Dad, but first, you have to promise not to fight anymore with Mommy.”
Jaw tight, Jackson nodded.
“And, Mommy,” Dillon said, eyes wide and shining, “you have to come be with us more, okay?”
“I will, angel.” She kissed the crown of his head.
Once again, Dillon was off. This time, accompanied by the groan of the upstairs bathroom pipes when the tub water was turned on.
“I’m sorry,” Julie said, sitting on the staircase’s third step.
“No apology necessary. Let’s just leave the past in the past.”
“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “When you told me Dillon was missing…I swear to God, my life flashed before my eyes. I mean, I know this will sound clichéd, but in that instant, everything faded except what’s important—real. Dillon. You.”
Tilting his head back in what he assumed would be a futile attempt to work the kinks from his aching neck, Jackson ignored the last part of Julie’s speech. How many times when the ink had still been wet on their divorce papers had he prayed to hear those very words? But that had been a long time ago. He wasn’t the same man. She’d emotionally destroyed him, and it would take a lot more than pretty words to put him back together.
“Well?” She gazed up at him with the same big brown eyes as their son. In the entry hall’s dim overhead light, she’d never looked more beautiful, or, at the same time, more treacherous. Like quicksand, exploration would be foolish. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Haven’t you missed me?”
“Sure, but—”
“When I saw you tonight with Rose in your arms, it took me back to when Dillon was a baby. You were such a great dad, Jackson—always a way better parent than me. But when it came to my turn to hold Rose, it dawned on me that maybe this was a wake-up call. Maybe we should try again. Have another baby and remember the way things used to be before—”
“Before what, Jules? Before you took off? That’s a lovely fairy tale you’ve spun, but what happens when you get bored? Only this time, you’re abandoning two kids instead of one? How are you going to worm your way out of that?”
“Do you have to be cruel?” she asked, voice shaky while tears streamed down her cheeks. “I said I was sorry. No one’s perfect.”
Jackson wanted to be cruel.
More than anything, he wanted to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him.
But her tears were his undoing, and the rescuer in him took over. “Come here,” he said, tugging her up and into his arms. “We’re both tired. It’s been a long day. Maybe this is all stuff that should be gone over tomorrow?”
Sniffling, she nodded against his chest. “I love you.”
Not knowing if he loved her, hated her, or felt a mixture of both, Jackson kept quiet. In the morning, he’d have clarity. Right now, all he wanted was sleep.
AT ONE IN THE MORNING, Ella finally stopped even trying to sleep, tossed back the covers and aimed straight for the peanut butter and chocolate-chunk swirl she’d stashed in the very back of the freezer, hoping it would be safe from little hands.
Baby Rose had been up a good half-dozen times, leaving Ella feeling more like a zombie than a well-rested physician who had to be in the clinic by eight.
She’d just closed her eyes upon taking the first sinful bite of ice cream when a knock sounded at the back door. Startled, she jumped, nicking the roof of her mouth with the spoon.
Through the ruffled back-door curtains, she made out a man’s figure. Heart pounding, she snatched the rolling pin from a jar filled with kitchen utensils, then flipped on the back porch light only to exhale in relief. Her late-night visitor was Jackson.
Unlocking the door, she asked, “What are you doing here? Is everything all right? Where’s Dillon?”
“Everything’s sort of fine,” he said with a grimace, brushing past her, overwhelming her with his size. “As for Dillon, he’s sound asleep. Julie’s at the house with him.”
“She slept over?” Ella couldn’t keep from asking, her right eyebrow rising.
“No,” Jackson said, face reddening. “It wasn’t that kind of sleepover. She said because of all the National Guard guys in town, she couldn’t get a motel room, so I set her up in the guest room.”
“Oh.” After setting the rolling pin on the counter, she plopped back down at the kitchen table, wishing she’d slept in a cute baby-doll nightie rather than a baby-stained T-shirt and thin cotton shorts. “Not to be rude, but why are you here?”
Eyeing the rolling pin, he grinned. “That could’ve hurt.”
“I’m not accustomed to late-night—or, I guess that would be early-morning—visitors.”
“Sorry. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep, and if the wind’s blowing the trees just right, there’s a view of your kitchen window from my master bath. I saw you were up, and…” He shrugged. “Got another spoon?”
She got up to find him a utensil, then handed it to him where he sat in the chair alongside hers. There was something oddly intimate about the moment. The occasional kissing of their spoons, crickets singing through the open window above the sink. The way Jackson’s hair was mussed and the sleepy look in his eyes.
“So,” he said, piercing the night’s quiet with the single syllable word. “Julie apologized. Burst into tears and said she wants to try getting back together.”
“Th-that’s wonderful,” Ella said, more than a little taken aback. “I mean, assuming that’s what you want. I know that’s what Dillon’s been hoping for, but…” Her words trailed off as she searched Jackson’s unreadable expression.
“You know, that’s what’s so weird about the whole thing. Being a family again feels like all I’ve ever wanted, but she hurt me. Bad. When I snapped at you out by the old paddlewheeler—when you said ‘for better or worse’—it was because for so long now, my marriage has been reduced to the or worse portion of our vows. With Dillon still having been gone, in that instant, I guess I felt as though if one more bad thing slammed me, I’d crack.”
“But you didn’t,” she said, hand on his forearm. It was a friendly, comforting touch. So how come instead of feeling comforted back, there was gnawing sadness filling her? Maybe even jealousy that the one thing they’d had in common—lousy marriages—was to be no more. “For Dillon, you stayed strong. And now, it sounds as if all the pain Julie put you through may be over. Maybe you two can even work on that fresh start?”
Covering her fingers with his, he said, “Thanks. Your listening to my rambling means a lot.”
Trying to make light of the suddenly heavy mood, she said, “Just wait till you get my bill. Hope you have good insurance.”
He laughed, filling her spirit with the delicious, rumbling sound. How was it that Dillon and her twins had been longtime best buddies, yet she hardly
knew Dillon’s father? Stranger still, how, in the terrifying hours their sons had been gone, had their friendship blossomed to the point where Ella now felt as if she’d known Jackson forever?
“I should quit hogging your ice cream and let you get to bed.”
“Yes, you should,” she teased. But not because she resented sharing her late-night treat; because the more she was around him, the more she suspected he would be all too easy to fall for.
Chapter Five
“So then Mom said her and Dad are getting married again, and then we’re gonna have a baby, too.” In Owen and Oliver’s fort, Dillon held Rose extra good, figuring he’d need the practice for when he was a big brother.
“Are you gonna get a boy or girl?” Owen asked, kind of quiet since his mom was out in the yard, too, watering flowers.
“I’m thinking I’m going to tell them I want a girl. Rose is awfully cute, and now that your mom figured out how to feed her and bath her and stuff, she doesn’t seem to be so much work.”
“Yeah, dummy,” Oliver interjected, “that’s ’cause somebody else is taking care of her for us.”
Dillon stuck out his tongue. “Why do you always have to be so mean?”
“Maybe I like it,” Oliver said, snatching up the toy cars he’d been playing with and heading for the sandbox behind the fort. Truthfully, he did feel a little mean about calling Dillon a dummy, but it was really unfair that Dillon’s parents were getting back together, while his own dad had married someone else. Oliver guessed he liked Dawn okay, and Ben only looked a little like an alien, but it wasn’t the same. Deep down, Oliver knew his dad was never coming home, and that hurt. Sometimes, late at night, when Owen was snoring, Oliver cried about it, but that was only in secret with the covers over his head.
“Mom says I can be in their next wedding.” Dillon’s voice carried through the fort’s thin walls, making Oliver wish their fort was made of a cajillion rocks. “I’ll wear a tuxedo and everything. It’s gonna be cool. Owen, you can come if you want. But if Oliver’s gonna be mean, he has to stay home.”
“Will there be meatballs?” Owen asked.
“Heck, yeah,” Dillon said, jiggling the baby. “At least, I hope so. It wouldn’t be a very good party without your mom’s meatballs.”
“I don’t even wanna go!” Oliver shouted up at his two ex-friends. “And I’m telling Mom not to make her meatballs for you!”
“GOT A SEC?”
Glancing up from a mountain of medical records still needing to be updated, Ella’s mood brightened. “Jackson. What a fun surprise.”
“Let’s hope you still consider me fun after I grouse a little more about my ex.” Half laughing, half groaning, he eased into one of two matching brown leather guest chairs facing her desk. He wore jeans and a navy fire department T-shirt that fit snugly from what she guessed were too many hot-water washes.
Not that she was complaining.
Overheated from what she hoped was sun streaming through her office window and not from Jackson’s well-defined chest, she grabbed the nearest manila file to use as a fan.
“Oh?” she prompted, not especially wanting to discuss Julie, but she swallowed her dislike for the woman in order to be a good friend.
“This morning, I figured she’d head back to K.C., having forgotten her sudden urge to become Super Mom, but man…” he shook his head “…was I ever wrong. I overslept, to find she’d not only gotten Dillon off to school, but cooked a big country breakfast.”
“And those are bad things?” Ella asked, setting down the file, leaning forward in her chair. “Wish somebody would cook me a big breakfast, and Lord knows I could’ve used the sleep.”
“You know what I mean,” he said with a sigh.
“Yes, I get it. I imagine her sudden interest in family life is very confusing for your son.” Not to mention you.
“That’s a given. She said she wanted to stay a few days, but thankfully, her cell wouldn’t stop ringing, and she took off.”
“Think Dillon’s going to be upset when she’s not home after school?”
“I’m afraid so, which is basically why I’m here.” He shot her a painfully attractive grin. “Don’t suppose you have any professional parenting advice for me?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a teasing shrug. “What’s in it for me?”
“Well…”
“I’m joking. I’d love to help you, in any way—”
“I grill a mean steak and baked potatoes,” he interjected, shifting in his chair.
“Deal, but I was just about to say I’d help for free.”
“Seriously, Ell,” he said, toying with a mini-Slinky one of her favorite patients had given her for Christmas. “If you’re too busy, I can always just call for an appointment, or—”
“Hey…” Reaching across her cluttered desk, she stilled his busy fingers, ignoring what was getting to be a disturbingly common flutter of attraction. “I love Dillon. Over the years, I’ve grown to think of him as my own. I’d be honored to help in any way I can. Moreover, I’m flattered you’d think to ask.” She was also more determined than ever to squelch the absurd fascination for this man that kept cropping up every time he was around. He was her friend. Nothing more. Worse yet, because of her love for Dillon, she was honor bound to do all in her power to see Julie and Jackson reunited.
THIRTY MINUTES later, armed with sage advice for how best to handle his current situation with his son, Jackson knew he should be focusing on Ella’s words, but at the moment, the only thing he felt truly capable of focusing on were the intriguing little creases at the corners of her mouth. She’d been gifted with full lips that smiled easily. He supposed he’d always found her attractive, you know, in a kids’ mom kind of way. But lately, okay, most especially since he’d sat at her kitchen table with her at one in the morning, sharing ice cream, wondering at the messy glory of her hair, she had gone beyond attractive in his eyes to absolutely gorgeous.
“Jackson? Judging by your expression, you think I’m wrong?”
“Huh—oh, yes. One hundred percent.” She frowned.
Bad answer?
Ella pressed on. “So then you think Dillon shouldn’t spend more time with Julie?”
“I’m sorry. Could you please repeat the question?”
“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
He swallowed hard when she did it again, pursing her lips into a crazy-cute pout he found himself wanting to kiss. Which was ludicrous. Ella was off-limits. At least until he figured out what—if anything—he felt for Julie.
“Jackson Tate. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was boring you.” Rising from her desk chair, she playfully conked his head with a file.
Ha! If only that were the case. “I’m sorry,” he said, faking a yawn. “I guess I’m just tired, seeing how a certain someone kept me up all night with her ice cream.”
“Like I forced you into my kitchen in the wee hours of the morning?” She tried conking him again, but this time, he dodged. Out from behind her desk, she now stood alongside him.
It would’ve been all too easy to snag her about her waist, tugging her onto his lap for that kiss he’d been craving.
It would’ve been easy, but because of Ella’s relationship with Dillon, because of Julie and the fact he was supposed to be thinking of reconciling with her, kissing the pretty doctor would’ve been wrong.
Which was why he cleared his throat, then said, “Seriously, thanks for your help. Over our steaks tomorrow night, I’m going to pick your brain again, only this time I’ll take notes.” On his feet, he pulled her into a quick, awkward hug of gratitude, then left as abruptly as he’d entered.
“MOM?” OWEN ASKED. They were at Polk’s Sporting Goods, shopping for the boys’ spring baseball league. Rose was home, being watched by Claire Donaldson. Oliver was in the football aisle, dreaming of when he could play junior-high and high-school ball like his dad. Knowing Todd had broken two ribs and suffered a concussion during his days on t
he field, Ella couldn’t say she wanted her boy playing, but she wouldn’t stop him if that’s what he truly wanted to do.
“Yes, hon?”
“Are you making meatballs for Dillon’s dad’s wedding? Because Oliver said you weren’t.”
“What?” She froze beside the aluminum bats. “Where did you hear that?”
“Dillon.” He snatched a ball, tossing it from hand to hand.
“We both love those fancy meatballs you make for parties and stuff. So can you?”
She’d just talked with Jackson like a few hours ago, so how was it that now all of the sudden his remarriage was at the point that Dillon was planning the menu? If that was the case, seeing how she now considered Jackson a friend, why wasn’t she more happy for him? After all, he was still admittedly bitter about what Julie had done, but behind that bitterness, she suspected was a tremendous amount of love.
“Mo-om?” Owen whined.
“What, honey?”
“Are you making meatballs?”
“Um, sure, sweetie,” she said. “If that’s what Dillon wants.”
“It is. Can I have this?” He held out a bat.
“Sure. Whatever you want.” Worrying her lower lip, she imagined Dillon must be thrilled, but when had Jackson even had time to reach this decision?
“What about this?” He held out a batting helmet.
“Honey, whatever—just pick.”
“Why’re you grumpy?”
“I’m not,” she said, kneeling to tie her left sneaker. “This is great. I know having his mom back will make Dillon really—”
“He’s not still talking about the stupid meatballs, is he?” Oliver rounded the corner, loaded down with football pads and a helmet.
“What’s with all the gear?” Ella asked.
“I’m playing football.”
“When?” she asked, glad for the distraction from wedding planning.
Three Boys And A Baby (American Romance) Page 5