Andthatwas uncomfortable.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Parenting is great and everyone is having fun until the fundraising forms come home from school.”
—Anonymous, Florida, United States
Jack
Jack stepped back in the hall, unsure of what he was actually going to do or say or become. Which was unlike him. The cotton of his tee scratched more.
April rounded the corner with a basket of laundry under one arm, and then the itch disappeared. He straight-up grinned, uncertainty falling away.
She had piled her hair in a bun at the crown of her head with a few loose tendrils kissing the length of skin exposed along her neckline. A pair of athletic pants with a long-sleeved crew neck weren’t particularly seductive. But on her? They hugged every inch in just the right places. Places he knew intimately.
“Morning,” April greeted, as though they hadn’t woken up together around four a.m. before she booted him back to his bed so her children didn’t see him emerge from her bedroom and start asking questions.
“Hey you.” He did not lean in and kiss her like he wanted to. Like his lips urged him to. “Can I help?” He gestured to the laundry basket.
She shook her head. “I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”
He followed her to the laundry room, opening and closing his mouth to make a point that he hoped she’d agree to. In the end, he probably just looked like a trout following her upstream.
“I think I might actually be ahead after this load,” April said with a mellow chuckle.
Before coming to April’s house, he had thoroughly underestimated the amount of soiled clothing a family of four could create. Adding him into the mix, the laundry and the dishes never seemed finished. There was always one or thirty more. For some reason, because he had apparently lost his mind, it didn’t drive him bonkers.
All that led to the realization that he thrived here. The idea of his cold apartment with no one there to keep him company, the laundry service picking up his clothing, and a once-every-three-days housekeeper handling the dishes all sat starkly against the backdrop of April’s chaos. The warm, cozy comfort that embraced him during it all.
When he was a kid, the family used to take a winter ski trip up to Big Bear for a weekend every January and rent an oversized cabin with an enormous fireplace. The thing had seemed massive. While everyone was out on the slopes, Jack would often hang out with Rachel by the fireplace to keep her company. She’d hated skiing. He’d hated that they left her alone. So he stuck around with her.
The feeling of a thick blanket of snow outside the walls had contrasted with the warmth inside. And that’s precisely what he experienced with April.
Yet the reality of the imminent future when he would have to leave loomed heavy.
“What do you have on tap for today?” she asked, apparently oblivious to the internal mess he trudged through.
He pulled the laundry soap from the shelf and poured it into the cup for her. “A call with Ethan later to go over a plan for your cooking segment.”
Her eyes lit up at Ethan’s name, like they always did. Jack should’ve been insecure about the obvious celebrity infatuation, but he’d told himself that he didn’t get to be insecure. And, while April may have been excited about Ethan, she’d also been excited about other Jack-exclusive things.Moreexcited, even.
So he nipped that jealousy in the bud.
“I wanted to talk to you about maybe sticking around for a little while longer,” Jack said, shoveling a whole heap of dirt over his pride.
April’s expression fell. “Jack.”
“Not for long,” he assured quickly.
She stared into the depths of the washing machine. “That’s not a good idea.”
He said nothing, because he thought it was a fantastic idea.
“We can’t confuse what we are.” She gestured between them. “What we’re doing.”
What she didn’t say, but what she broadcasted loud and clear, was that she hadn’t changed her stance on what her future looked like.
Okay, fine. Point made. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t push her. He’d promised her he wouldn’t push.
