“I’d be really damn lucky if it worked out that way someday.”
Catching the seriousness in my tone, he presses his lips tight together and stares at me. Truth be told, I’m not sure I’ll survive in a family with him and Whit. That searching, piercing, pillaging stare of theirs makes my guts twist.
I quickly add, “I mean…if that’s something you wanted. I’m not trying to take your dad’s place or make you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t make her cry like he does.”
I flinch against the blow of his words. “He makes her cry?”
“All the time.” His shoulders slope down. “I make her cry a lot, too. So…it’s good you don’t.”
“Buddy, she’s only crying over you because moms are always worrying about their kids.” I reach across the empty space between us to squeeze his skinny shoulder. “Your mom deserves good things because she’s a great mom. And I want to make her smile every single day, if you’ll let me.”
“It’s up to me?” A mischievous little grin pops up, and my palms reflexively sweat.
“I really like your mom, and think I can do a pretty good job of making her happy…but you’re the man of the house, so I’ll respect your wishes if you’re really against it.”
Maybe it’s a stupid idea to leave it up to a preteen boy who’s too awkward and goofy to even say the wordlove. I’m not even sure what I’ll do if he tells me to forget about ever dating Whit. Probably bribe him with more Betty time.
I give Jonas my best attempt at an earnest expression, hoping to seep through the cracks in his hard-earned armor. I want Whit to love me, but gaining his trust and love means just as much—if not more.
“You’ll still play video games with me, even if you and Mom are inluuurve,right?”
I can’t help but chuckle, and I give him a slight nod. “Hell yeah. We gotta get some extra practice in, anyway. It’s the only way we’re beating her at the racing game.”
“Oh, that’s true. You should come over tomorrow. Bring candy and we can have pizza again.”
“Before we go making any big plans, I shouldprobablymake sure your mom likes me, too.”
“She does.” He slurps the last of his drink, oblivious to the way his simple observation is sending my heart into a lurch. “If you’re her boyfriend, you’ll be around more, right?”
“I’d be around as much as you two let me. I like hanging out with you guys.”
“If you break her heart, I’m gonna break your nose…so you know.” He pounds a fist against his empty palm in the most nonthreatening threat of violence ever. “Break your noseandkeep your dog.”
With a roar of laughter, I look over at my favorite little menace. “Holding Betty over my head like that? That’s evil, dude.”
Good thing I have no intentions of breaking Whit’s heart.
My chest feels fuller than it has in a long time. I’ve been confronting my feelings for weeks, reckoning with the idea of Jonas being the closest I’d come to a kid of my own. He’ll never be fully mine, whether his dad ever bucks up or not. And I realized that not only am I okay with that, I can’t imagine a family that doesn’t involve them.
• • •
Crossing her legs hikes the dress fabric halfway up her lickable calves, and Whit leans back in her chair with a heavy exhale, swirling wine in an almost empty glass. There’s no dance floor or DJ or any true organization to this post-wedding celebration. It’s people casually chatting, drinking to excess, and huddling around a bonfire to combat the quickly cooling air. Music blares from a Bluetooth speaker sitting on the front porch railing.
Taking a small sip, Whit scans the stars beginning to burst against the night sky. She looks content and calm. The pink ends of her hair are tucked into a heavy piece of black fabric wrapped around bare shoulders. She licks a droplet of wine from the corner of her mouth, gaze lingering on the low-hanging moon.
I swear to God, she’s so pretty it takes my breath away.
Sneaking up behind her, I don’t announce my presence until I’m real close. “Want to dance, Mama?”
“Jesus Christ.” She jolts in her seat, clutching a hand to her chest. “Nobody else is dancing right now…and are you suggesting we dance in the middle of the driveway?”
“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do.” I hold out a hand. “And it’s none of our business what anybody thinks about that.”
“Well…” She looks around at our friends and family. Because it was a last-minute event, Blair and Denny kept the guest list small and the reception casual.
“Jonas knows about us,” I say.
