Page 89 of Already Callin’ You Mine

You didn’t respond to half my texts yesterday and now you don’t want to make plans. Tell me what I did wrong.

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

And that’s the problem.

Deep down, I know Jace isn’t Cody. But that doesn’t stop this spiral of anxiety. Doesn’t halt the creepy-crawly feeling I get every time I think about what’s going to happen as soon as he’s ready to move on. As soon as he figures out that he doesn’t want to be weighed down with someone else’s kid.

I’m just busy.

Speaking of, need to get back to work so I can get O to the dr on time.

I push up from the table, leaving the rest of my lunch unfinished. I’m not sure I have the appetite anymore.

“Gotta jet,” I tell the girls, not leaving room for anything else. “Busy afternoon.”

Grabbing my trash, I wave goodbye and head toward the exit. My phone buzzes again, and I look down, my heart sinking as I read Jace’s message.

Pres, talk to me…

Nope. Can’t. No matter how much it hurts.

Instead, I leave him on read, slipping my phone back into my pocket and turning my focus on my new priority.

Putting up walls.

“Doorbell!”

Otis announces the sound as if I didn’t hear it, the shrillness of his squeal piercing my eardrums. I hold back my wince—barely—peering into the living room from the kitchen. Not that I can see anything. Our front door is solid wood and all the blinds are drawn so that our house isn’t a fish tank for anyone driving by to look into.

“So I hear,” I reply, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.

The pounding of his feet is already carrying through the air, so I rush to follow him, knowing there is no way to beat him to the door. Otis might have a firm grasp on stranger danger in public, but the at-home portion is still a work in progress. We haven’t fully grasped the idea that a stranger might try to come to visit.

As an afterthought, I look down at myself, making sure that I’m not in something inappropriate. I know that my sweats and tee aren’t overly revealing—at least not from a sexy perspective—but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a chance they are threadbare in all the wrong places or there is a strategically placed hole I don’t want to show off. It was a rough enough day—we don’t need to add in flashing an unsuspecting visitor.

We’re not expecting anyone, and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing straight up with nerves as I try to figure out who would knock at this hour.

“Jace!” Otis squeals. “Mama, it’s Jace!”

Oh…shit…

Now I really wish I was wearing something nicer. Or even a bra.

“H-h-hi,” I stammer. My heart jackhammers against my ribs, trying to break free. He’s here. He’s really here.

Why is he here?

“Hi.” Jace smiles, his brown eyes warm and inviting, like chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. “May I come in?”

“I…errrr…”

Jace isn’t Cody…

Objectively, I know this. I do. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold the power to break our hearts. Because there is no way I’m what he wants. Not really. Not for the long term.

“Come see what I build!” Otis grabs Jace’s hand, tugging him inside.

Jace steps forward warily, his eyes locked on mine the entire time, searching for permission. Resigned, I nod, moving out of their way. Jace lets Otis lead, holding on tightly to his hand as they carefully navigate the still messy living room.