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The New Dad’s Playbook
Exhaling a quiet laugh, I turned to the front inside page, my hand tracing over his scrawled handwriting.Please return to Tim Wilder. I have too many kids to lose this thing.
She chuckled when she saw it. “Always thought he was so funny.”
“He was,” I said quietly. “Thank you, Sheila.”
The pressure in my chest eased when she carefully closed the book in my hands and took my other hand in hers, settling it on the top of the cover. “All you need to do is be willing to try, Jax. No one expects more than that, all right? If you’re doing your best, that’s fine by me.”
“What if my best still hurts her?” I asked, voicing it even though the words ached coming up.
“The fact that you’re willing to ask is why you deserve a seat at the table, Jax.” She tilted her head toward the house. “You ready to come in?”
With a nod, I gripped the book. “Let me set this in my truck first. I don’t want to forget it.”
Chapter 19
Poppy
“Can you remind me one more time what you said yesterday?”
Ivy’s whispered question had me jamming an elbow into her side, shoving her away from me. Behind me, there was so much commotion, but I blissfully ignored all of it and focused every shred of my attention on serving up a piece of pie.
“Olive, honey, did you want some pie?” I asked my niece as she skipped past the table.
She didn’t even stop, and I grimaced. Honestly, where were the kids when you needed them to distract people? They were always gone.
Greer sidled up on my left, leaning in just as far as Ivy was on my right. “Am I the only one noticing what’s happening here?”
I punched the knife into the edge of the pie, slicing down into a piece so big, I’d never, ever be able to eat it.
Did I still put it on my plate?
Sure did.
What good was being pregnant if you couldn’t fill half your plate with apple pie?
“Poppy is noticing,” Ivy answered in lieu of my silence. “She just doesn’t want to admit it because she tried to tell methe other day she’s not in a love triangle.” Ivy carefully extracted the giant knife from my grip. “A line, right? You’re in a love line?”
“What does that even mean?” Greer asked.
“It means that Ivy is full of shit and needs to stop talking,” I said sweetly, snatching the knife back and setting it next to the pie plate.
The three of us turned in tandem, and when confronted with the reality of what was behind us, I shoveled a giant piece of pie into my mouth. Greer used her napkin to fan her face.
“Well, whatever the current shape of your love life, I amsupportive.”
The pie wasn’t enough. I’d need four more.
I tried desperately to think about a good metaphor for what was happening inside my brain, and came up blank. Tangles and knots were close, but it felt messier. More permanent.
So many people, including members of my family, did a bang-up job of compartmentalizing. Blocking out the inconvenient feelings in their life so they could function.
I was not one of them.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I could lock my past feelings for Jax in a little box and throw away the freaking key? Why did I think I could navigate any of this with a few simple decisions?
I sat in a vehicle and told Jax Cartwright he wastoo good in bed. With a straight face.
