Jack came back outside with two plain Topo Chicos with a lime in the top of the bottle. “Ta-da!”
He handed me a bottle and we tapped them together. “Cheers.”
He settled back in his chair, running the tip of his tongue over his swollen lip.
“How’s your face?”
Jack shrugged. “Fine. Just another day at the office.”
“That . . . can’t be good for your head.”
“Oh, it’s not,” he agreed. “I love it though.”
“I could tell. You looked comfortable out there. Happy.” I smirked, thinking back on the clear pep in Jack’s step when he was playing hockey. Gabi’d made a comment that maybe he liked two things: hockey and me.
“At least there’s one place,” he sighed, flicking a glance up at me. “Was that hard for you? Watching hockey? After he ruined it?”
I sat with that for a moment. “Not as hard as I thought it would be. Even when you were fighting, I could tell you were happy. He was never happy. Hockey was his place to take out his revenge on the world.”
Jack nodded. “Plenty of guys like that. And the ones who don’t make it far are even more bitter. I always say the lower leagues are scarier than any NHL player.”
“That was him,” I said. “Mad at the world, but trying to make the best of it. And things were good when he made the best of it. I wouldn’t have had kids with him if they hadn’t been.”
“Heard that,” Jack said, taking a drag off his bottle and reading the label. “Those really are perfect bubbles. How do they do it?”
“Right?” I laughed. “Half the fun of being a grocery buyer is demanding more samples of the things you love. And then the more you buy, the more the company keeps you happy.”
“You happy doing that?” Jack scooted down in his chair to put his feet on the table. I stood and pulled my couch so my feet could reach too. My toes were perpetually frigid and the cool Los Angeles evening wasn’t doing my frosty feet any favors.
“Happy’s a strong word,” I said. “It mostly pays the bills.”
Jack peered through the mouth of his bottle. “How much do you make?”
I shook my head and scowled. “What?”
“Like, what’s your hourly rate?”
“Jack, I know you’re a blunt guy, but people don’t usually share salary information.”
“I make $5 million,” he stated, like that was a normal number.
“I do not make that much,” I guffawed.
“Okay, well, I lost another nanny this week. I’d be willing to match your salary if you wanna take over.”
My gaze darted everywhere. “Wait, the nanny actually quit? And did you just ask me to quit my job to be your nanny?”
“Yeah, she quit. And why not? The kids like you.”
I clamped my jaw shut. “Jack, have you seen me get around? I can barely take care of myself and my two kids.”
He snapped his fingers like I’d made some excellent point. “About that too.” He turned his intense eyes on me. “Didn’t you say it’s hard for you to get to the doctor?”
“Well, yeah. Doctor hours are work hours, and I’m on a colossal wait list for the specialists I need.”
“Okay, so,” he said, acting like it was obvious, “be my nanny. Syd has the kids half the time so you’d have half the time to go take care of yourself.”
I heaved a sigh, furrowing my brow because what in the actual fuck was he saying? “You’re forgetting two things, and they’re both asleep upstairs. I don’t get breaks from my kids.”
