He took off, spilling more grape soda along the way.
“My god.” My face overheated from embarrassment. “He’s actually making it worse. How is that even possible? It’s like a full-on crime scene now.”
“He’s leaving a trail of blood,” Jake agreed. “You might want to consider hiring a lawyer now. The kid’s going down.”
I laughed. “Thank you for being so cool about it. It’s like he’s pocked with holes—pour something in and it squirts right back out.”
“No problem. I have a little sprinkler myself named Slater. You’re Jess, right?”
“How’d you know?”
“Casey said you were here with your son, Noah. I put two and two together. I’m clever that way,” he said, offering me his hand.
I took it and he lifted me to a standing position.
Noah came back out with the towels and handed them to me. I handed them back and told him to do it himself. He appeared perplexed, and I didn’t blame him. Cleanups had always been my job, and I desperately wanted to do it now, but Jake had just lifted me from the floor and I couldn’t drop back down to it now.
Noah began.
Wordlessly, Jake and I watched as he missed large swaths of soda and smeared the purple mess around. My heart pumped a little faster as I tried micromanaging him from a standing position, but it was no use. I grabbed the paper towels from him and dropped back down to my hands and knees to complete the job.
While I was down there, I offered to clean Jake’s shoes too, but he mercifully declined with an amused grin on his face before offering his hand to me… again.
From my subservient spot on the floor, I blew the hair from my face and said, “You must be very impressed right now.”
“I’m entertained, that’s for sure. You and Noah really need your own show.”
Jake’s personality, the way he phrased his words, the way he injected wit and humor into the conversation, it felt so familiar—like bantering with Quinn. He pulled me to my feet again just as a tousle-haired man in a hospital gown and board shorts called out his name as he hop-skipped down the hall.
“Jake!”
“Keith!” Jake mimicked.
“Jake,” Keith repeated again, his face alight with joy. Keith looked to me, confused. “And random girl I don’t know! And kid covered in purple. I just became a father!”
The brothers hugged. Noah got a fist bump. Then Keith turned to me—the random girl in the hall—and unexpectedly hugged me too. I laughed, genuinely overjoyed for him.
“Boy or girl?” Jake asked.
“Like I’m going to tell you first.”
He took off down the hall to the room where his eager family was awaiting the news.
Jake and I exchanged an amused glance before we followed after him, arriving back just in time for the big reveal.
“It’s a boy!”
26
Jess: A New Bottom
Decorations—check. Goody bags—check. Store-bought cupcakes (no judging)—check. I wasn’t sure who was more excited about this birthday party, me or Noah… or Quinn. Who would have thought Quinn would have lasted long enough to make it to Noah’s ninth go-kart birthday party? But he did. And he showed no signs of stalling.
In the three months that we’d been together, Quinn had wound himself around us so tightly that I could scarcely remember life without him—nor did I want to. He hadn’t officially moved in with me, still slipping out the front door in the morning before Noah woke up, but he was there every night—eating dinner, helping Noah with homework, teaching him guitar, and lulling him to sleep at night with a song. It was enough to nearly explode my heart.
But once Noah was tucked in for the night, that was when romantic, hot-as-sin Quinn came out to play. We really couldn’t get enough of each other, which kept our sex-to-cake-pop ratio quite high. Because I’d never hadeverythingwrapped up into a nice shiny bow, I wasn’t sure exactly how to process it all. I had a boyfriend who loved my son. I had financial security. I had a father freshly released from rehab and getting stronger by the day. And I had a whole new family that was gradually becoming my own. And while most days I embraced the unknown with characteristic optimism, there were days my heart clenched in panic, waiting for the bottom to fall out from below me. When I’d related those fears to Quinn, he’d responded the way a true hero did—If it happens, babe, I’ll build you a new bottom.
Our first real test was coming. Sketch Monsters was moving ever closer to the release date of their first album, scheduled to coincide within weeks of their upcoming tour. A tour that would take him and the band on the road for five months, maybe longer if the album performed as expected. And that seemed likely, given the buzz already surrounding them. I’d heard the songs. There was no way the album wouldn’t smash all expectations.
