“And you asked if Chris was your daddy?”
He nodded.
“Do you remember what I said?”
“Chwis is not my daddy.”
“That’s right.” It was going well. Good thing I practiced.
“Mommy, can we go to the pawk?”
“Maybe later. Right now, I want to tell you who your daddy is.”
Kacey’s eyebrows raised.
I pointed at Jack, who was now eye-level with us, squatting just a couple feet away. “Kacey, Jack is your daddy.”
Kacey frowned and looked at Jack. A slow, confused “oh” came out of his mouth. He slid off the bench and walked up to him. My heart stopped beating as I waited. Kacey already loved Jack. But I hoped he wouldn’t say or do anything to make this weirder than it already was.
Kacey immediately invaded Jack’s personal space, puttinghis tiny hands on Jack’s big shoulders. “Dack, canyoutake me to the pawk today?”
Jack’s throat bobbed. I had never seen Jack truly emotional. He was fighting it back. He blinked a few times, his hand tentatively coming to Kacey’s back and patting. “Yeah, buddy, I think that sounds really fun.”
Kacey squealed and took a few spins around the yard, doing some sort of half cartwheel thing that made him look like a chimpanzee.
My gaze tangled with Jack’s. “That went well,” I said.
“Did he understand?”
“We’ll know over time whether he did or didn’t.”
Jack’s voice was gentle, soft. “Thank you, Miranda.”
An hour later, I had Kacey in his socks and tennis shoes. Jack took my suggestion seriously and told Kacey they were going to the park, getting lunch, and then ice cream.
If Kacey had any reservations about leaving without me, they evaporated. Mine screamed though.
Jack moved the car seat into his truck and buckled Kacey in. Before he hopped into the driver’s seat and took off, he approached me. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Yes—I need to be.”
“I put something in the kitchen for you.”
“What is it?”
“Just go check after we leave.”
“Okay.” Curiosity burned in my brain. But before I could ask more questions, Jack’s arms came around me. I didn’t hesitate this time, immediately hugging him back.
I didn’t even get the chance to enjoy it. It was brief and over before it began. “Thank you for this. Call me if you need me.” He turned on his way back to the truck. “Oh, and if you go anywhere, go armed.”
I waved them off.
Then made a beeline to the kitchen.
There was a fifty-dollar bill on the counter next to a post-it note with an address. No personal words on it—just an address. I almost dropped my phone, pulling up the maps app as fast as I possibly could.
The address was a Barnes and Noble.
