“Something smells delicious,” I say, holding her to me. I kiss her lips, then her neck, and Jami shivers with desire before placing a single finger against my chest and pushing me away with a teasing grin.
“Dinner is almost ready,” she says. “Go change into something more comfortable.”
I do as she says, and by the time I get back to the dining room, the food is set out on the table, and a cold beer is open and waiting next to my plate. Curiously, I sit down and take a drink of it, my eyes on Jami’s sweet ass as she fills my plate with mouthwatering food and then takes a seat at the table across from me, gazing at me silently from where she sits.
“Alright, out with it, woman.” I take a bite of the roast she’s cooked to perfection and close my eyes, savoring the taste.
“Out with what?” Jami says innocently, but I know it’s coming. Whatever it is.
“I haven’t seen you in this good of a mood for weeks.” I take another drink of my beer and set it down, watching Jami from across the table. She hasn’t touched her own plate. She hasn’t even looked at it. “Something is on your mind, so tell me what it is.”
Jami pushes a small breath of air between her teeth and meets my eyes, holding them steady. She looks nervous to say what she’s about to say, though I can’t imagine why. What could possibly be worse than what we’ve already been through?
“I want to foster Maddy,” Jami says without a single hitch in her voice. She’s still staring at me, those gold-speckled eyes determined.
“You want to … what?” I ask, feeling like the lowest kind of idiot possible.
“I want to foster Maddy,” Jami repeats, reaching across the table to snag a homemade roll from the bread basket. I continue to stare at her, unsure if this is really happening right now, and Jami’s eyes narrow in my direction. “Madison Hill,” she says again, probably because I can’t seem to find any words. She’s looking at me like I could be partially stupid, which wouldn’t be a far cry. “She’s going to be bounced into the system, as you know. But I want to foster her.”
“Jami …” Finding my words, hopefully, I fold my arms and lean back to scope her out. “This is a child we’re talking about here, not an animal.”
“Don’t condescend me, Ely. I know the difference.” Jami, too, folds her arms across her chest as she glares at me, but her stare alone sends a chill of intimidation down my spine.
“Don’t you have to take classes to even become a foster parent?”
“Yes, and I have,” says Jami matter-of-factly. “Years ago, actually. I just never had time to open up my life or my home.”
“And you do now?” I ask doubtfully.
Jami’s eyes cast to the tabletop, but she nods. “I think this is important, Ely, and I would really love it if you could support me in this.”
“Jami—”
“Because I’m doing it. With or without your blessing.”
I sigh and rub a hand over my face, expecting nothing less from this woman that I’ve completely and utterly fallen for. I reach across the table and take Jami’s hands in mine, kissing the top of her knuckles. She relaxes at once, all the fight melting from her bones as her hands rest in mine.
“I can’t get her out of my mind,” she says, shaking her head. “Just an innocent little girl who has been through more trauma and hurt than the average adult should ever even experience. It … kills me. Her mother is dead, and her father is in prison, and now she’s taking the fall for it.”
I get up and walk around the table to wrap my arms around her. She melts into my touch, and I rest my lips on top of her head, just holding her.
“You’re a good soul,” I tell her. “I always knew you were.”
“I haven’t been feeling as good as I should be, I think,” Jami admits. “All I can think about now are the days I lived in foster care, bounced from one house to another until I couldn’t even keep track anymore.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath that seems to shake her down to the bones. I kiss her, tilting her chin up to meet my eyes.
“Is that part of why she’s so important to you?” I ask. “Because you’ve been through what she is going through?”
“Maybe. But I think it’s more than that.” Jami sighs, but her grip on me doesn’t waver. “There’s something I should tell you,” she continues. “Something I probably should have told you when I first met you.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” I’m afraid to hear the answer because all at once, a million worst-case scenarios fly through my mind, and all I can think about is some terminal disease taking this woman away from me far before her time.
“I found out just out of college.” Jami’s voice is quiet, meek. It’s unusual coming from between her lips because this woman is not a meek person. “I went in for a yearly check and found out that I would probably never have children.” Her voice breaks, and I can see how much this means to her, how much the words spilling from her lips pain her. I hadn’t expected that not really, and I’m both mildly relieved that she’s physically okay yet absolutely devastated for her.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whisper, and I mean it, but I know that nothing I say or do at this moment can change the way Jami is feeling. And not just Jami, not anymore. This could affect us. Affect our future.
But I don’t care. With or without children, Jami is my family. At least, I want her to be. I don’t know yet if she wants the same thing.
“It was kind of one of those weird things,” she continues, and her fingers grip tighter around mine. “I wasn’t even sure I ever wanted kids, but as soon as I was told that it might not be a possibility, I felt like I had lost something. Lost that chance, I guess, to be a mother. Like maybe God or whoever was punishing me for being so uncertain.”
