She rose, brushing her hands on her shorts, then reached for her plate. “That was amazing. I’ll go downstairs and get my stuff.” She smiled at him. “Thanks again.”
Whoa. She did not want to talk about her ex.
He cleaned up the kitchen and waited, but she didn’t come up with her tote bag, so he walked to the stairs and listened. He could have sworn he heard…something.
Was Atlas awake already?
He walked down quietly, listening for the familiar sound of Atlas’s squeaky noises when he awakened from a deep sleep.
But all he heard were soft, soft sniffles. That wasn’t his son crying. It was Pepper.
He came around the corner and stopped as he heard her voice, unable to resist listening before he checked on her.
“My sweet, sweet little boy.” He heard her move, maybe leaning over the crib to stroke his forehead. “I’m so sorry for what life handed you, baby. You have a good daddy. A beautiful, dear, one-in-a-million daddy, like no one I’ve ever met. So, you’ll be okay.”
Jonah froze, a little stunned by the compliment he was surely not meant to hear but would never forget.
“I love you so much, Atlas,” she continued softly. “How I wish that I could be more than your nanny, but…we both know that isn’t going to happen.”
Why not?
Jonah had to force himself from charging into the room and asking the question. He did take a few steps toward the door, able to catch her reflection in the mirror over the dresser.
“Goodnight, sweet boy.” She bent and kissed Atlas on the head. Then she straightened and looked at Atlas, her hand on his back. “In the meantime, a girl can dream, right?”
She took a step back and Jonah did, too, then cleared his throat.
“Hey, you still down here?” he called as if he’d just come down the steps.
“Yes, just getting my bag.” She met him at the doorway, tote bag over her shoulder, her eyes glistening.
He searched her face, a million questions in his head.
No, not a million. One.
Why would she have to dream anything?
She gave him a quick smile and zipped by him and headed up the stairs. “I’ll let myself out. Night, Jonah! We’ll see you Friday for our hurricane adventure!”
With that, she was gone and Jonah was left alone in the doorway, living smack dab in the middle of his own cone of uncertainty.
June 18, 1995
Dear Diary,
The boys are building a platform.
A FLOATING PLATFORM, that is, with rope handles around the edges and plywood on top. The whole thing is supposed to be anchored fifty yards out in the Gulf so we can swim out to it and lie on it and sun. This was Eli’s idea, of course. The future architect, just like Dad, must build things and show off his drawing talents.
He appeared at the breakfast table with a sketch on graph paper and a pencil behind his ear, and Kate went the particular shade of pink she goes when she is trying very hard to pretend she has not noticed something.
Kate, I love you, but you have a tell.
We do not talk about it, oddly enough. We talk about Peter, but she is exceedingly private about her unrequited love for my brother.
Anyway. The build.
Peter showed up at ten in a backwards baseball cap and gym shorts and immediately took off his shirt, because life isn’t fair.
