Jules obliges, giving her a particularly sassy hair flip, and I beam with pride. Only thirteen and eating up every space she enters.
Natalie shakes her head in awe. “Shining brighter than a diamond, I swear to god. I can’t believe how much taller you’ve gotten since the last time I saw you.”
With my five-foot-nine frame and her father’s six-foot-two, she was bound to be a beanpole; I just didn’t expect her to almost reach my height this young.
“Ah, you’re the child I’ve heard so much about,” Winston says as he emerges from the living room. He offers his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
This is the friendliest I’ve ever seen him, despite wearing his signature scowl. When Jules lets go, he looks closely at his hand, as if concerned about cooties.
He points the book he’s holding in her direction. “I understand children have a tendency to unknowingly cover themselves in sticky substances and proceed to touch every available surface.”
“Winston, she’s not a goddamn toddler,” I snipe.
“I’m just saying,” he’s replying to me but still looking at her, “wash your hands, kid.” And then he makes himself scarce for the afternoon. I make no objections.
Natalie gives us an in-depth tour, mostly showing me all the changes she’s made since I was last here, which are primarily decor she’s picked up from the nearby thrift store. We go outsideand do a lap around the property, and Jules gets to meet Ethel, their garden ghost. She didn’t make herself corporeal like Winston did, and Jules is entranced by Ethel’s gray, translucent form while she points out various seeds she’s planted outside the garden shed.
The hours pass with the three of us drinking mocktails and snacking on chips and guacamole. We play Uno while listening to pop hits, and I can tell by the volume of Jules’s voice and the wild laughter bursting out of her that she’s having a blast with her Aunt Natalie. We order pizza for dinner from Crust Lust, and drive back to Pebblebrook as the clock strikes eight. Jules has done a lot of peopling today, and I can tell she’s hitting the wall.
I’ve been keeping my screen time limited today so I could be fully present with Jules, but once she falls asleep in the bed beside me, I grab my phone and smile as I read the texts from Dominic. They’re mostly about the menu updates accompanied by pictures of the changes Anton made to the ones I tasted earlier. The last message, however, is unlike the rest.
Nic: Let me take you to dinner tomorrow. It’s weird to have you so close but not being able to see you.
I’ve been thinking the same thing all day. There’s one problem, though.
I have Jules.
As desperate as I am to spend time with Nic and, let’s be real, ride that glorious dick again, I can’t exactly ditch my kid for the night.
Nic: She’s invited too, of course. We can show her the town. It’ll be fun.
I have no doubt about that, and I’m touched he wants to get to know her better. Having the two of them spend time together was a worry of mine this week, because is it irresponsible of me to introduce my daughter to a guy I’m casually hooking up with? Yes, but that’s not all Nic is to me. We’re not in a serious relationship, but he’s my friend, and a wonderful man.
There’s also the fact that I truly enjoy being in Mapletown, and if I continue coming up here, I want Jules to love it too.
Sounds great. Thank you for inviting her.
The next day, Jules and I drop off the pizza rolls and cupcakes, and run into Camilla and her daughter Rocío as we’re leaving. Rocío is close to Jules’s age, while Camilla and I are chatting about witchcraft, I notice the two of them start to talk. They exchange Instagram handles before we part.
Nic tells me to meet him by Mapletown Rock in the center of the square at five. It’s a mild winter day, which is a huge relief. The sun is shining, it’s forty-seven degrees, and the piles of snow on the edge of the sidewalks are rapidly melting. Since the town square is pretty small and the walk to it is quick, Jules and I decide to get dressed up. I wear a leopard print sweater, fitted black skirt, and knee boots, and Jules sports a knee-length maroon dress with black tights and platform oxfords.
We find Nic standing near a red and white blanket spread out on the grass next to the rock, with his hands behind his back.
“Uh oh, a picnic?” Jules says quietly at my side. “Mom, you hate picnics.”
“Shh. We don’t know it’s a picnic, but if it is, we need to smile and be polite, okay?”
I give Nic a hug, and Jules gives him a fist bump. The day goes immediately downhill after that.
He hands me a beautiful bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath, and in an instant, water runs from my eyes with the force of parallel waterfalls. The sneezing begins too, and the smoky cat-eye I took a long time to perfect is likely ruined. Jules has seen this movie before and knows to get rid of the flowers. I hear her say, “It’s the little white flowers. I’m sorry. They’re very pretty,” as she takes them away, and I make a note to thank her later for complimenting Nic’s efforts.
She digs out an allergy pill from my purse, and Nic hands me a bottle of water to suck it down. Once my symptoms pass, Jules does her best to clean up my face using a tissue. That’s when I realize Nic has, unfortunately, set up a picnic. This is a problem for two reasons. First of all, I don’t enjoy dining on grass, where bugs can easily get to me and whatever I’m eating. Secondly, there’s no way I’ll be able to go from standing to sitting on the blanket in the skirt I’m wearing. It hugs my body from hips to calves, so unless I’m trust-falling onto the stiff, still-frozen ground, it ain’t happening.
But I try, oh do I try, because this was a sweet gesture, and I don’t want Nic feeling like he biffed this entire day, especially after the flowers. I start by folding myself down to my knees, which isn’t easy. Luckily, I have Jules to lean against on my descent. Then I shift sideways until I’m on my ass and my legs are bent to the side.
“Are you my mom’s boyfriend?” Jules asks as Nic opens the picnic basket.
My stomach drops.
