“Well, I should get headed home. You’ll be out early tomorrow, right?” She grabs the drink she barely sipped at and carries it to the kitchen, dumping it in the sink. “Would five be an okay time to get here?”
I blink at her, following behind her and trying to follow her train of thought.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I take the now-empty bottle from her and place it on the counter to take outside tomorrow. “I’ll walk you home,” I say as she walks toward the mudroom, but her hair slides along her back as she shakes her head.
“No need.” I open my mouth to argue, but she stops me before I can. “I don’t want to hear about your mom yelling at you—she would be okay with my walking the hundred yards home alone if it meant not leaving your sleeping child alone during a snowstorm.” When she turns to grab her jacket and slide it on, I realize there’s a stubbornness on her face, and there’s no way I could talk her out of it, so I sigh and acquiesce.
“Fine. But text me when you get home. If not, I’m headed over there to check on you.” She nods, then reaches for the doorknob as she slips on her shoes. I should argue with her about it then, but before I can, she’s speaking, distracting me.
“And, Jesse?” she says when she turns the doorknob. “If I were to go for a King, it would absolutely be you.”
And then, before I can even think of something to say to that, she’s opening the door and offering me a quick good night! Then the door shuts. I stand there for a long minute, wondering what the hell that means, only snapping back to reality when my phone dings with a text.
Hallie
Home! No need to send the cavalry. Night, Jesse.
I clean up quickly, packing up the leftovers and putting the dishes in the dishwasher before getting ready for bed and setting my alarm for the crack of dawn. But even though I’m exhausted, I lie in bed mentally replaying our conversation and, most importantly, those last few words until I fall asleep.
TWELVE
When I show up at Jess’s house on Wednesday, I’m all smiles and excitement, chattering on about plans and crafts, then shooing him out the door before he can ask me any questions. Emma and I plan an Emma and Dad night of relaxation with homemade pizzas, a movie, and s’mores, so when Jesse comes in the door looking exhausted, I tell him about tonight’s plans, he accepts, and gives me a soft look, and I dip out quickly before he can say another word.
My goal was to give him an easy night since he has to be exhausted after the last two days, but also one he could feel good about when hanging out with his daughter.
It has absolutelynothingto do with the intense embarrassment that I feel knowing that last night, I spilled my guts to him about what happened in Vermont, set clear, friendly boundaries, and then completely demolished them with my final words to him.
If I were to go for a King, it would absolutely be you.
Why would Isaythat?
Sure, it was true, but it could have very much stayed an inside thought.
I tell myself it’s because he was so damn vulnerable the night before, and I wanted to give him the same. I tell myself that his opening up about his feelings about dating—or more accurately,notdating—made me feel brave, knowing neither of us would ever actually go for it. I tell myself it’s because I feel bad that he spent the last year thinking I turned him down for his brother.
Okay, maybe my rushing out the door hadsomethingto do with my embarrassment, but at least this time, my plan isn’t to ignore Jesse. I think I’ve learned that does neither of us any good, and with my living so close and helping with Emma, I know it’s impossible. It’s simply that I want to put enough space between that night and the next real conversation we have, so there’s no way for him to ask about it, no way for the tension to grow between us.
Because for the smallest moment, when I explained to Jesse that I hadn’t avoided him because I was actually into his brother, I saw it there: hope. Possibility. The idea that maybe,maybewe could try…something. I needed to squash it, and I think I did, until that stupid, stupid moment as I was leaving.
I’m an idiot.
Unfortunately, because I admitted that the last time I made a fool of myself and avoided him, Jesse has gotten much wiser to my antics, and he proves that to me on Thursday night, when Emma insists I stay for dinner, and Jesse agrees. That morning, I had arrived at eight, after Emma was awake and ready for the day, with a giant bag of craft supplies to make decorations for her room, again efficiently avoiding talking to Jesse.
Mentally, I plan to eat and then leave right after, but Jesse thwarts my plan of evasion halfway through dinner.
“You gonna ignore me for ten months again?” he asks after I head to the kitchen to get a drink. I didn’t hear him follow me in, but he’s standing there, leaning on the pantry doors when I close the fridge door, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jesse!” I gasp. “You scared the shit out of me!“ His smile goes wider, thoroughly entertained by me, and he suddenly looks younger, so much more carefree.
“Good. Now, are you going to ignore me again?”
“Why would I ignore you?” I ask, deciding playing dumb is the best plan as I crack open a can of soda.
“I don’t know, but you seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.”
I scrunch my nose up and open my mouth to lie, but decide it’s not what I want to be doing. Not with Jesse, not when he’s always seemed to be able to follow my train of thought, so long as Iexplainit to him.
“It’s not that Iwantto ignore you,” I start.
