“Great. Help me move Aulie’s recliner to the porch, and you two can supervise each other while I run an errand.”
Guilt pricks my chest, and I try not to let it rot too much. Jack’s been running errand after errand since my surgery, and I appreciate it, but making sandwiches, taking midday naps, and running around town can’t be the lifestyle he enjoys. Considering he’s used to going to clubs and parties in Boston and bar hopping at away games with whatever woman he’s found in that town, domesticity must feel like a noose to him. This current situation certainly isn’t forever, but if he keeps our relationship going when he returns (which isn’t a guarantee), his life will be softer just because I’m in it, and I don’t love that for him.
* * *
Fluorescent green backwardhats shouldn’t be a killer look on anyone. Annoyingly, Jack can pull off just about anything, including a bright tie-dyed shirt with blues, greens, oranges, yellows, pink, and lime green shorts and a pair of sunglasses hanging down the front of his chest. The silent confidence that’s oozing off of him in his outfit is just…
“You liking what you see there, kitten?” Jack’s lips tip into a smug grin. “Should I be concerned that you’re eye fucking me in this?”
“I really likedClarissa Explains it All.”I clear my throat. He motions for me to sit on the bed and rolls up a pair of sunflower leggings with a soft stomach for me to slide into. “I may also just really like you, and like that we’re doing our first couples costume. You’re sweet, you know that?” I kiss his cheek as his brow furrows, concentrating on the leggings.
“Meds still making you overly emotional, huh?” he asks, grabbing a folded yellow tie-dyed tunic Lucy made for me from the top of the dresser.
“I haven’t been that bad.”
Jack quirks a judgemental brow at me, and well, fair, I’ve probably been a little more emotional than usual. And maybe I burst into tears when I was scrolling on the internet and saw a pattern for a tiny crocheted kitten couch with a small blanket. Everything was little, and Willoughby needs one, and oh no, if I keep thinking about that darn couch, I’ll start crying again.
“Kitten couch?” Jack asks, gesturing for me to put my arms up.
“It’s a miniature version of a normal-sized thing, and it’s so cute, I need to make one.”
“We can go yarn shopping online tonight.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine, you know that.” Tears fall and Jack’s shoulders raise as if he’s on guard. “Why can’t you just accept that you’re sweet and I like you?”
He shakes his head. “Not possible, princesses don’t feel that way for asses,” he says, smiling softly at me, trying to mask it like he’s teasing me, but he means some of what he’s saying.
“Well, good thing I’m a fucking queen then,” I say, chin high.
Jack snorts. “You are, but that only makes me lowlier.” Gently, he slides a headband on over my head. His palm cups my cheek. He narrows a penetrating, heated gaze on my face. When he stares at me like this, I can’t help but wonder if he might love me after all, even if he hasn’t verbalized it yet.
Of course, I’ve misread situations like this before, and I’m on a lot of meds, so it’s hard for me to say any of that with certainty.
“What the fuck?” A loud shriek from the hallway shakes Jack out of his hold on my cheek.
“I’m so sorry.” Grady’s voice follows.
Jack’s forehead presses against mine. “I’ve got to go put a Grady fire out,” he says.
“Take me with you.” I offer out my hand.
Jack supports me as I stand, lowering his mouth to my ear. “Please don’t push it tonight. When you’re done with the party, we can watch some TV in bed or something.”
“I want you to have fun, too. You haven’t gotten out like you usually do,” I say as we shuffle out of the bedroom.
“Seriously, what the actual fuck.” A voice that sounds suspiciously like Bridget’s bellows down the corridor, and I’m suddenly very concerned for the integrity of Grady’s spleen.
“I don’t need to go out as long as staying in involves you.” A feather-light smack hits my tush and skitters my pulse. “There, you can subtract one from the spank bank. Can you make it the rest of the hallway by yourself? I’m worried Grady’ll lose an organ if I don’t go save him.”
“Go save your buddy.”
I’ve tried my hardest not to think about my time alone with Grady on the porch. While Jack was gone, Grady asked me a bunch of questions about Jack and my relationship while he carved a pumpkin with his tongue out. I didn’t have an answer for most of his questions. Which he seemed to shrug off. I don’t think he meant anything by it, but he told me I was a good distraction for Jack while he was up here—and that? Well, I haven’t been able to shake that off as easily.
It might be closer to a truth I’ve feared than I want to acknowledge.
A pumpkin and beer-covered crime scene greets me as I round the corner into the kitchen. Bridget, dressed like Evelyn from The Mummy, with her auburn hair pinned into a chic chignon and a white blouse dripping beige with beer, stands holding a basket and directing a scowl in Grady’s direction.
Beer trickles out of Grady’s pumpkin as he blinks back at her, a look of decimation I’ve never seen the golden retriever of a man wear.
