“Mom?” Harmony called from the vicinity of the front door.
All color drained from April’s face.
“Grandpa says hi, and he didn’t cuss around me today,” Harmony added.
Well, that was good. Grandpa was still in the doghouse and April was still gripping…Jack.
“The afternoon shift,” she whispered, the horror in her tone a cold-water wrecking ball through his body’s previous response to her proximity.
“Mom?” Harmony called again, slamming the door behind her.
Jack moved his hands to where hers white-knuckled his shirt. He moved her hands from the fabric, squeezing them in his own before April pulled them away.
“In here, baby.” April stepped entirely out of his embrace, running her hands along her abdomen to the edge of her skirt at her thighs, adjusting the fabric that neither of them had messed up.
“What are you guys doing?” Harmony asked, her voice getting closer. She breezed to the doorway. “Hi, Jack.” She gave him a toothy grin.
“Harmony.” He moved his hands to his hips because, frankly, he didn’t know what else to do with them.
“Jack was just teaching me to spin on the tile in my socks,” April said, her skin still flushed but nothing like it’d been moments earlier.
Her expression had become unreadable—even for Jack.
He didn’t like that at all.
Harmony dropped her backpack on a chair. “Can I play, too?”
Chapter Fifteen
“On the hard days, pretend you’re the babysitter: ice cream for dinner, don’t do the dishes, just keep the kids alive.”
—Cathi, Louisiana, United States
April
“Jack?” April had changed into a pair of tighter-than-they-were-last-month jeans with a purple flounce-sleeved peek-a-boo shirt and bounced down the stairs.
“In here,” he called back.
It’d been ages since she’d been out with her friends.Theywent often, sure. And they always invited her. She just…
She just hadn’t had time.
It’d been forever since she attended their Sunday morning get-togethers, too. Those had also fallen from the priorities of April’s new life. Again, not from lack of invitation. They always let her know when and where and that they wanted her to show. She just hadn’t had the time to make it happen.
That all needed remedying because…hurrying down the staircase, she realized abruptly that she missed them. She missed who she was when she was with them.
“April?” Jack called from the kitchen. “I’m in here.” He sounded like something was off.
One last glance in the mirror in the hallway—yes, she had eye makeup on both eyes this time—and she headed his way.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she sauntered through the door, the purple flats that matched her shirt dangling from her fingertips.
“I think the chili burned.” The cover was off the slow cooker and he was nudging a black crust around the edges with a wooden spoon.
“How’s that even possible?” She knew her slow cooker like she knew how to breathe. They had a symbiotic relationship, even when she forgot about it.
Actually, she could probably even marry the thing and have a more stable relationship than she’d had with her ex. Her Crock-Pot wasn’t going to shock her by running off with anyone else. Of that she was certain.
