I stared at the spinning fan until the wee hours of the morning as I considered every possible angle on the Kacey situation. My conclusion was this: Kaceycouldn’tbe mine.
Miranda and I had sour history, sure, but she never would’ve kept my son from me. I had to assume what she said was true—Kacey was the product of a hook-up. As sad as it made me, it was easier to swallow than the other two possibilities. And grasping onto the easiest explanation was the only way I was able to embrace a wink of sleep.
Miranda never had big goals or ambitions. She was happywith normal things. Wasn’t pursuing a career or chasing dreams. She just wanted to be a mom, have a family. She liked things like reading novels and going on walks. Enjoyed being outdoors. Baking and having get-togethers. She even talked about homeschooling one day. Miranda’s goal in life wastogetherness. It was one of the things I loved about her.
And it was something I was happy to provide.
But we tried. Again and again we tried. And every time we lost a baby, I lost a piece of my wife, too.
It’s why Kacey’s existence stung. How could a one night stand give her the one thing we both wanted?
If I was the man I should be, I’d be happy for Miranda. But I wasn’t ever what I ought to be. The sting of jealousy crept in, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. She left me all those years ago, made terrible choices, and now here I was helping her. I wanted to be the one to make things right for Miranda. And Kacey. Despite the conflict raging in me, I would give her anything. She could take everything I had.
I didn’t know if that made me a stupid idiot or a fool in love. “In love” soundedcrazy, but I didn’t know what else to call it.
Watching her enjoy her creamer and meandering around the mall together solidified my second conclusion: I was a fool.
Through and through a fool.
As much as I hated to admit it, Jules was right. I was going to get my heart trampled in the worst possible way if this all ended the way we agreed it would. It would kill me to sign papers a second time.
Every moment I spent with Miranda made “in love” sound less psychotic. There were endless things to love about her. She could turn the most anxious expression into a blooming smile when Kacey called for her. She could go from chewing her finger nails to singing the “Itsy BitsySpider” in two seconds flat. Her commitment to him was—straight up hot, to be honest. Maybe one of the most selfless displays I ever witnessed.
Speaking of hot, I also forced her to buy a holster at the outdoor storefor one of my 9 mms. She picked one that would cradle the gun right below her left breast. Like a true glutton for torture, I watched her try it on over her pink fitted tank top. The young guy selling them was watching too, which made me want to tear his face off.
She was absolutely oblivious to how sexy she was—yet another thing to adore.
When we visited the shooting range, I was disappointed to learn that Miranda hadn’t forgotten a thing about guns. Meaning, she didn’t need my help or any refreshers. Meaning, I wasn’t able to get as handsy as I would’ve liked.
But whenever I could, I placed a gentle hand on her back, her arm, her side. Anywhere and anytime I got a subtle chance. Accelerating toward the brink of insanity with every touch.
And Kacey was a really sweet kid. I lifted him up onto the rocks at the edge of the big tank at outdoor store, and we looked at fish for fifteen minutes. He talked my ear off then cried when we had to leave. He felt better when I offered to let him ride on my shoulders.
I pretended to bump into the walls and display tables until he laughed so hard I was afraid he might puke on me. But Miranda laughed, too. A sound I would gladly take some puke for.
We got dinner out and let Kacey run at the restaurant’s playground. He scarfed down nuggets and waffle fries and scampered off. Miranda ate three nuggets, and had half a medium fry. It was more than I’d seen her eat before…but still not enough.
When we left, Miranda had to sit in the backseat of thetruck and sing songs with Kacey to keep him awake for bath and bedtime. He told us about ten times it was the best day he ever had. Which made me laugh. But made Miranda cry.
As they sang, I stewed. Tried to figure out how I could get her to eat more. She wasn’t getting enough and never looked relaxed while she ate. When she was tucking Kacey into bed, it dawned on me. I fished the bottle of red wine from the kitchen cabinet and pulled the cork.
It took a little convincing, but she agreed to stay downstairs and watch Food Network with me. It almost felt like old times, and I was delighted. It was a habit we started while dating. We both loved food so much, it just made sense.
A niggle of conscience pricked me as she settled on the couch a few cushions down. I wanted to pretend we were something we weren’t—a family. Me, Miranda, Kacey. Three mere days under my roof and I was smitten.
I am a fool.
After she tucked a blanket around her legs, I handed her a glass of red wine.
She frowned, not moving to take it. “What’s this for?”
“I have a hunch.”
“Which is…”
“That it’s anxiety keeping you from eating. You hold your stomach like it hurts. So, I thought maybe a little nudge toward relaxation would help you eat more than three bites at a time.”
She blinked, staring at the cup.
