His eyes narrow. And for a second, I think he’s going to refuse.
Until Maisy gives him a pleading look. “Please, Jojo?”
He shoots me an irritated look, but then smiles at Maisy. “Sure. What are we playing?”
“Eye Spy,” I say before Maisy can come up with something else. I learned that lesson after playing the sing-along game for hours.
Maisy claps in excitement, and Jonah groans. Getting under Jonah’s skin brightens my day. “I’ll go first. Just remember, it has to be something inside the van.”
She nods eagerly. And then has Bell nod too.
I don’t hide my smile as I look around. At George and Mom, talking softly and laughing in the front. At the immaculate blue floors—how old is this van anyway? I’m sure Jonah could tell me—to Maisy squirming in her seat. And finally, I let my gaze settle on Jonah. He raises a brow, and I try to hide my grin as my gaze roams over him, taking in his light-blue shirt that matches his eyes, his gray shorts, and those legs, finally stopping at the red and black slides on his feet.
“Any day now,” Jonah says, irritation lacing his words and fueling me on.
I meet his gaze, savoring his annoyance and then turn to Maisy. “I spy with my little eye something red and black.”
“My slides,” Jonah says confidently.
“Sorry,bro. We’re going by age, so Maisy gets to go first.”
She beams. “Jojo’s shoes.”
“Yes! Good job, Maisy. Your turn.”
“Really?” Jonah huffs and crosses his arms, which emphasizes his broad chest and biceps.
The air-conditioning is on since it’s already starting to get warm at six in the morning, but it must not be working properly. I’m burning up. My shirt sticks to my skin, and I pull it away.
“I spy with my little eye something blue,” Maisy says and then shakes her head. “No, pink. Something pink.”
Jonah quirks an eyebrow. “You’re younger than me.”
And why does that make me feel immature? “Just by a few months.” But it’s not being younger that bothers me. Jonah moved away. He lives on his own in another state and has a full-time job. Like a real adult. I ignore his satisfied expression and look around. I don’t need to. There are only two pink things in this van. The bow on her dragon princess and my bag. She’s staring at my bag, being even less subtle than I was. “Bell’s bow,” I guess.
She giggles. “No!”
Jonah rolls his eyes. “Vivian’s bag.”
Her smile falters a bit, but she nods. “Yup. Your turn, Jojo.”
I grab my bag and pull my phone out. As I type away, Jonah scoffs. “Really? We’re playing a game—” His phone beeps, and he stares at the message I just sent.
Stop guessing right away. She’s four. Let her enjoy it.
He glares at me and types furiously. When my phone pings, I read his reply.
This wasn’t my idea. And life is hard. Better to learn that now.
“For Christ’s sake, Jonah,” I say through gritted teeth, “grow up.”
“Me?” He points to himself, his voice getting louder. “I’m the one?—”
“What’s going on back there?” George glares at us through the mirror. Mom bites her lips as she watches us. She doesn’t like conflict. For a good reason.
“Nothing.” I wave my hand. “Everything’s fine.”
“Are we still playing?” Maisy asks with tears in her eyes. I want to yell at Jonah that this is all his fault, but that would make everything worse.
