As I finish making dinner, I find myself glancing out the kitchen window toward Jordan’s house. He’s probably feeding Henry, going through the evening routine we established yesterday.
Part of me wants to text him, just to check if he needs anything. But something about the way he left suggests he needs space more than he needs help.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong. The evasiveness about Henry’s mother, the way Jordan disappeared for hours without explanation, the exhaustion that seems to go bone deep.
I’ve only known Jordan for a few days, but already I can tell when something is off. Today, something was definitely off.
“Mom?” Ash appears beside me, tugging on my shirt. “The spaghetti is boiling over.”
“Oh!” I turn down the heat and stir the pasta, forcing myself to focus on dinner.
But as we eat, I can’t help wondering what Jordan isn’t telling me. And why the thought of him struggling with something alone makes my chest ache in a way that’s starting to distract me from everything else.
Which is why this whole thing is probably a problem I should be worried about.
But not tonight. Tonight, I’ll just be grateful that Henry seemed happy to see his uncle, that Ash had a good day with his friend, and that tomorrow I’ll get to see Jordan again.
Even if I still don’t understand what’s really going on in his life.
CHAPTER 12
ALEXA
The baby swing creaks gently as Jordan gives Henry another careful push. It’s a perfect Monday morning at Riverside Park, warm sunshine filtering through the trees while other parents and nannies chase toddlers around the playground.
“Look at him go,” Jordan says, his face transformed by the biggest smile I’ve seen from him yet. Henry giggles with pure delight, his eyes wide with wonder at the gentle swaying motion.
I watch Jordan talk to Henry in a soft voice about the trees and the other children playing nearby. There’s something so naturally paternal about the scene that it makes my chest feel warm. After dropping Ash off at school this morning, I suggested the park trip, thinking the fresh air would be good for all of us. I was right.
“You two are getting the hang of this,” I tell him.
“I’m starting to think maybe I’m not entirely hopeless.” Jordan gives Henry another gentle push. “Having you help has made all the difference.”
Before I can respond, a woman walking past with her own toddler pauses beside us. “What a beautiful family you have,” she says with a warm smile. “Your son is adorable.”
My face immediately heats up. “Oh, we’re not…”
“Thank you,” Jordan says smoothly, saving me from my stumbling explanation. The woman smiles and continues on her way with her child.
The moment stretches between us, heavy with implications neither of us seems ready to address. Jordan focuses intently on Henry, while I study the ground like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“I should probably get him out of the swing,” Jordan says finally. “Don’t want to overdo it on his first time.”
We spend another hour at the park, with Henry contentedly watching other children play from his stroller. Jordan seems more relaxed than I’ve seen him, laughing when Henry reaches for a butterfly that lands briefly on the stroller handle.
“This was exactly what we needed,” he says as we start walking back to the car. “Thank you for suggesting it.”
“Anytime.”
As we’re loading Henry back into his car seat, Jordan’s expression becomes more serious. “I hate to ask again, but would you be able to watch Henry for a few hours this afternoon? I have something I need to take care of.”
There it is again. The vague reference to something he needs to do, without any details about what or where.
“Of course. Same as yesterday?”
“If that works for you. I should be back by five.”
I want to ask where he’s going. What’s so important that he needs to leave Henry behind twice in two days? But the guarded look is back in his eyes, and I know he won’t tell me even if I ask.
