“Mom! I’m home!” Jackson calls, the door slamming as he enters like a cyclone.
“In the kitchen,” I answer, though his footsteps sound like he’s already headed our way.
“Hey, Gio!” he exclaims as soon as he rounds the corner, and a brilliant smile lights his face.
“What’s up, little man?” he asks, bumping knuckles with my son as if this is the most natural thing in the world, and for a moment, I’m struck dumb by how cute they are together.
Jackson’s clearly enthusiastic to see Gio here with me, and it tugs at my heartstrings to watch the healthy interaction.
Finally, Jackson turns his attention to me, and I open my arms.
“What am I, chopped liver?” I tease. “I let a friend come over for dinner, and suddenly you don’t have time to hug your mom hello?”
Jackson rolls his eyes, stumbling over in his grass-stained shorts to wrap his arms around my waist, and I lean in to kiss the crown of his head as I give him a fierce hug.
“How was school?” I ask, cupping his face and attempting to wipe a smudge of dirt off his cheek with my thumb.
“Good. Mrs. Vance says we’re getting a classroom pet next week.”
“A what?” I ask, my voice jumping an octave in feigned disbelief.
Jackson laughs, Gio’s low chuckle making my stomach quiver as he joins in, and warmth radiates through me as I realize we have an audience.
I’ve never really thought about having someone else be privy to these moments with my son, and while it’s strange to have someone on the outside looking in, I find it surprisingly comforting that he could enjoy it as much as I do.
“Yeah! Maybe a lizard or a hamster. She even suggested a tarantula, but I think that was just a joke. Principal Harper is an arkak… arnarac…” Jackson’s brows furrow. “He’s scared of spiders.”
Humor tugging at my lips, I run my fingers affectionately through Jackson’s hair. “An arachnophobe.”
“Yeah, that,” he agrees.
“Well, any of those sound like they’ll be cool to me. Why don’t you go get washed up? Dinner’s ready. Gio brought us Italian from Osteria Nido,” I explain.
“Whoa! That fancy place downtown you said we couldn’t afford?” Jackson asks, his eyes lighting up as heat floods my face.
Sometimes, kids say things innocently that end up digging in deep, and I cringe, hoping Gio didn’t notice the unintentional comment about our financial well-being.
“Yeah, bud. Go clean up,” I repeat, gently nudging him toward the stairs.
If Gio did notice, he’s polite enough not to say anything as Jackson tramples up the stairs to his room.
Instead, he just chuckles, shaking his head as he watches my son go.
“He’s just a ball of energy,” he observes.
Laughing, I take a sip of wine. “Believe me, it takes everything I’ve got just to keep up sometimes.”
Turning to meet my eyes, Gio steals my breath away with his smile, and when he steps closer, I’m overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of his cologne.
It smells expensive, a sensual blend of jasmine, amber wood, and cedar, and I’m inhaling deeply before I can stop myself.
“You’re a good mom,” he observes, the soft rasp of his voice raising goosebumps along the back of my neck.
“Thanks,” I say, suddenly feeling shy from the warmth of his praise and the intensity of his gaze. I’m nervous.
I can feel it in the way my hands shake as I clasp my glass of wine. But it’s not a bad, frightened kind of feeling. I’m nervous in the best possible way.
Because I can see myself falling for Gio.
