Cole
“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” I ask, running a hand over my head. “Your toothbrush? Your pajamas?”
Jane rolls her eyes dramatically. “Dad…I’m not a baby.”
“I know, it’s just…” Just what? Jesus, Jane has spent the night at friend’s houses before, and of course, she’s stayed with her grandparents, but the Labelle’s looming lawsuit for full custody is making me extra protective. I have an uneasy feeling that’s slowly building as I wait for them to make their next chess move.
Jane looks up at me with that piercing gaze she gets when she’s trying to work out a problem.
The problem being me.
To my surprise, she walks over and wraps both arms around my waist, giving me a tight hug.
I hug her back, a lump filling my throat. Seeing Calliope Labelle at the restaurant on Big Jump Mountain was one more turd added to the pile of shit I’m worried about. On the way back to town, I called Rory and asked him if there was any way for Matchmake Me users to get personal information about other clients or somehow rig the system to get matched with a person of their choosing. He assured me it’s not possible for users to find out who else is using the program, let alone rig the results. He wanted to know why I was asking, but I kept my meeting with Cherrybomb to myself.
I definitely broke the rules, and while I don’t necessarily care, I like Rory too much to admit to screwing with his beta test.
Now that I’ve had more time to think about it, I’m less certain Calliope is actually Cherrybomb. Even though it’s been years since we had a real conversation, Calliope’s always been an Evelyn mini-me. Only some kind of head trauma and a complete personality change could have made her the Cherrybomb I’d been messaging. As unlikely as it seems, it might be a crappy coincidence.
Which means I made a mistake by blocking Cherrybomb on the app.
I’ve considered unblocking her and apologizing, but part of me is relieved. It’s terrible timing to start a relationship for one, and—shit. Is that what I was doing? Starting a relationship?
Surprisingly, I’m not that freaked out that I probably was. I’m not sure what to think about that. But I still think the Cherrybomb thing is best put on hold, maybe indefinitely, and I don’t want to examine my reasons for that.
Rory also asked if Jane and I wanted to join him and Bryn for Thanksgiving dinner. Like an idiot, I blurted out, “Will Holly be there?”
He paused, then said, “Yes, sheismy future sister-in-law.”
I told him that we were considering going to visit my brother in Atlanta, so I’d have to think about it, which for me means no, because Holly confuses me—she wraps me up in knots inside—and now she’s coming over to work on Jane’s computer. I’ve been thinking about that more than I should.
I’ve also been thinking about that kiss, the hot, needy press of her lips.
“I’m only going for one night,” Jane says, still squeezing me. “But if it makes you feel better, I can stay home. Before Betsy invited me, we were supposed to build the Lego castle tonight.”
I give her one last hug, then pull away, taking her chin my hand and tipping her head up to look at me. “We can work on the castle tomorrow night.”
While I have to admit that part of me wants to keep her here, she hasn’t been to a sleepover in months. She needs to spend time with her friend, and besides, Holly’s coming over tonight. After the fiasco last week, I don’t trust Holly to not disappoint my daughter again, so I’ve decided not to tell Jane about the computer until after the fact. Then again, maybe I’ve also decided to keep quiet because of that kiss…
Am I hoping for a repeat tonight? Will it be a disaster if wedorepeat it?
Jane watches me with a look that reminds me so much of Millie, which makes my heart ache in a whole new way. While I’ve learned to accept losing her, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the fact that Jane will never have her amazing mother. “What are you going to do tonight?”
“Maybe I’ll call Uncle Logan and invite him over to watch football. We haven’t hung out in a while.” It just popped into my head, but it’s not a bad idea…except I’m not in any hurry to call him. It’s the memory of that kiss with Holly.
I won’t be able to think about anything else until I see her. Until I know if it was another aberration, or if she plans to do it again.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jane’s gaze softens. “You need a girlfriend.”
I choke on my spit. “What?”
“Mom died almost eight years ago. Betsy says men have needs.”
My eyes fly wide. “Jesus, Jane. You can’t be saying things like that!”
“Why not?” she asks matter-of-factly. “I asked one of the fifth-grade boys at recess, and he agreed.”
“Not making me feel better,” I growl. “You can’t be talking to boys about things like that!” I will definitely be setting up a meeting with Mrs. Knucklehead on Monday morning. Why are third graders mingling with fifth graders at recess?
