“That’s the summary, yes,” I say.
Ruby chooses that moment to rediscover her spoon and smacks it against the tray, babbling happily. Blair automatically hands her another Cheerio, eyes never leaving my face.
“How are you feeling?” she asks. Her voice is soft. There’s no humor, just concern.
“Honestly,” I say, “I am all over the place. Nervous. Excited. Worried.” I blow out a breath. “But also kind of…okay. Which sounds insane.”
“It doesn’t sound insane,” Blair says, quick and firm.
“The situation is a mess,” I say. “She barely knows me. I work for her dad. There are about eight million ways this can go wrong.”
Wyatt nods.
“That night still plays on repeat in my head,” I admit. “I wanted more than one night, but she was very clear that she doesn’t do relationships, doesn’t do complicated, this was a one-time thing.”
“Maybe,” Blair says, “you get another chance. Different circumstances, yeah. Messier ones. But a chance.”
“If she lets me,” I say. “She’s scared. She’s panicking about the show and what this means, and she has every right to. I told her I’m not going anywhere. That we’ll figure it out together. I meant it.”
Blair reaches acrossthe table and squeezes my hand. “Jake, once she realizes who you are she’s going to realize she hit the jackpot. You’re one of the good ones.”
“I hope so,” I say.
Ruby decides that is the perfect moment to launch a Cheerio at me. It bounces off my shoulder and lands in my lap. She screeches with glee like she has invented a new sport. Despite everything, I laugh.
“That’s my cue to go wrestle her into pajamas,” Blair says, scooping her up. “Stay as long as you want, Jake. There’s more wine.”
After Wyatt and I catch up on a few work things and schedule our next round of golf, I stand to leave. “I should get out of your hair,” I say. “Thank you for feeding me.”
“Any time,” Wyatt says, walking me to the door. “And hey, we’re here if you need anything. You’re not alone in this either.”
At the doorway, Blair appears again, now with a baby monitor clipped to her shirt and her hair pulled up into a messy bun.
She pulls me into a hug and holds on longer than usual. “It’s going to work out,” she says into my shoulder.
“I hope so,” I say.
“I know so,” she counters. “Just be patient with her. And with yourself. She’s had less than a day to process something that’s going to change her life. Same with you.”
I nod, throat tight. “Yeah.”
Outside, the air is cooler. The sky is washed out withcity light, a few stars punching through anyway. I sit in my car for a second before starting it, the quiet wrapping around me.
I pull out my phone. No texts from Natalie. I didn’t expect any. I know she needs time. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do something.
I open my grocery delivery app, fingers hovering for a second. Then I start adding things without overthinking it. Fresh berries. Apples. Whole grain bread. Yogurt. Cheese. Eggs. Orange juice. I add some easy snack stuff. Nuts. Granola bars. Crackers. Things she can grab when she’s tired and overwhelmed and doesn’t want to cook.
My thumb hovers again.
Then I scroll to the vitamins section and add a bottle of prenatal vitamins. It feels big and intimate and slightly presumptuous and also exactly right.
I type in her address and, after a second of debating, open the little box for delivery instructions.
Just a few things to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Hope it makes your day a little easier. – Jake
I stare at the words for a long beat. It feels like a lot. It also feels like nothing at all compared to what she’s carrying.
I hit order before I can talk myself out of it and set the delivery for tomorrow morning.
