Closing Costs: Stewart Realty, Book Three Page 8

  “Well then.” Her eyes flicked up and down his suit-clad form. He made a point to take his hands out of his pockets to display his ring-less state, ignoring the anxiety that had reasserted itself, falling into flirt mode as self-defense mechanism.

  “So, this is your place?” He gestured around.

  “Yes, I own it.” She leaned back and crossed her long legs. He took a step closer.

  “You have kids then?”

  “Older ones.” Her eyes swept up and down him. He chuckled.

  “You realize you’re checking me out pretty obviously, right?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She slid a business card across her desk at him. “Go ahead through there. She’s waiting.”

  The place practically echoed, all of the commotion having died down. Now there was only an eerie silence. He didn’t see a soul. About to start back through the door to the office and rip somebody a new one for sending him on a wild goose chase, he stopped in his tracks at the sound of a small voice.

  “Who are you?”

  He stepped closer, letting the light hit his face. “I’m your Uncle Jack. Where are you anyway?”

  “Where’s Uncle Blake?” He peered around a bookshelf and saw her, sitting on a small table, matching lunchbox and backpack clutched to her chest. Her bright white, high-top tennis-shoe-clad feet swung back and forth. Jack took in the hot pink tutu, purple tights and orange t-shirt adorned with what looked like a sponge, with a face.

  “He’s on vacation. Nice outfit.”

  He held back, hands in pockets. Her huge green eyes appraised him with a worldliness that startled him. Tufts of dark blonde hair had escaped their braids and haloed her face. The resemblance to her mother, all the way down to the attitude she wore like a glove, was eerie in the extreme.

  “Thanks. It’s my favorite. Are you Stranger Danger? You have on a nice suit for a kid-lapper.” She didn’t move from her perch, just kept staring at him, her gaze open and innocent. A weird feeling settled in Jack’s chest as he watched her feet swinging back and forth. He took a seat next to her.

  “Thanks. It’s my favorite. I’m not a stranger. Or a kidnapper. I’ve been to your house before, for, um, birthdays and stuff like that. I’m taking you home today.”

  “Oh, okay. Hang on.” He watched, incredulous, as she pulled a sparkling pink phone from her bag and put it to her ear. He cocked an eyebrow at her, listening as she called Sara, getting confirmation that Uncle Jack did not represent “Stranger Danger.”

  “Your mother gave you a phone? Pretty advanced for a four year old wouldn’t you say?” He smiled when she jumped down and stuck her hand out. He took it.

  “Yes, but I can only call, not text or use internets or anything. No games either. And I am five years old.” She pouted a half second. “Mommy says it makes me in-pe-den-dant. Pleased to meet you Uncle Jack. Can we get Washtenaw Dairy on the way home? Please?” He kept her small, warm hand in his and led her out.

  “Won’t that ruin your dinner?”

  “If Mommy’s running late then you have to feed me dinner anyway. Uncle Blake makes me homemade mac and cheese. Can you make that?” Jack shook his head. The girl’s face brightened. “I know! Let’s have ice cream for dinner.”

  “Quite the negotiator. You’re more like your mommy than you realize.” He fastened her into the complex seat with her help.

  “I get that a lot.”

  Jack laughed, loving the sound when she joined him. “How old are you really? Twenty? Thirty?”

  “No silly. I’m five and one quarter. How old are you? A hundred?”

  “Ha! Only at night.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. I haven’t had ice cream for dinner in a while. Let’s make that happen.” He put the car in gear and headed toward the venerable Ann Arbor ice cream spot nestled in the residential Old West Side. He snuck glances at her in the rearview mirror as she kept up a stream of consciousness monologue about the relative merits of Sponge Bob Square Pants versus Steven Universe, whatever those were.

  He smiled, realizing his life would never be the same again and never happier about that fact.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sara re-opened the car door, yanked her raincoat’s tail out with a muttered curse, and noted Jack’s car parked in front of her house. She took a breath. The amazingly stressful day crashed in on her, making her long for a huge glass of wine and bit of quiet. But coaxing Katie into the tub, endless rounds of book reading and excuses for not going to bed, then yet more hours of work still lay ahead of her.

  She leaned on the car, chastising herself, and wishing Blake were here. She shoved that away remembering her promise to herself about not relying on him so much.

  “Be the mom,” Rob had said when she dropped them off at the airport. “You can do it. You have to do it.”

  Depressing really, how many people who loved her though she couldn’t handle “being the mom.” She sometimes wondered if she’d be that worst of clichés—the self-fulfilling prophesy when it came to parenthood success or lack thereof. Katie was a great kid—smarter for her own good maybe but she came by that honestly enough. They’d survived the toddler years and she seemed fairly well ensconced in her life as Boss of the Montessori Pre-School Class. Sara was inundated with requests for playdates, not to mention wine dates with some of the moms.

  Maybe she’d done something right with the girl. She did love her, so much so it was a physical pain at times, like when they’d be singing their way to day care or on a rare mother/daughter weekend picnic. The pretty, precocious, clever, somewhat honestly manipulative little girl truly was her heart, ripped out of her chest, and walking around outside her body unprotected.

  Motherhood. It’s a brutal business.

  Squaring her shoulders, she headed through the side door noting as she did every day that the damn thing needed a coat of paint. The kitchen was dark and spotless, obviously untouched for dinner. She frowned, putting her briefcase and purse on the counter.

  Music wafted through the house. The sound of Jack’s laughter from upstairs made her squeeze her eyes shut for a second. She’d missed him so much. Although, she would never in a million years admit that to anyone, much less to him. Not marrying him was the smartest, and hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.

  Her daughter’s loud giggle echoed down the steps. Sara smiled, poured herself a cabernet and sipped while slipping out of her shoes on the way to the living room, thanking god that it was cleaning service day.

  She sank into the cream-colored leather couch, trying to relax, listening to the sounds of Katie babbling away, mixed with Jack’s rumbling, regular replies. After about thirty minutes, the noises ceased. She closed her eyes, relishing the concept of not being in charge at least for a few more minutes even though the ever present guilt was hard on the heels of that.

  A hand on her knee woke her. Her eyes flew open, panic filling her brain. She put her glass on the table and got up, starting to the steps on autopilot.

  “She’s asleep, although the ice cream and donut dinner might lead to a tummy ache later. Sorry in advance.”

  A fire danced in the grate. He’d poured himself a glass of wine and sat, dress shirt loosened at the neck, sleeves rolled up on a shirt that looked like he’d given a dog a bath, not an almost five-year-old girl. She slumped against the wall, using every ounce of willpower she had not to launch herself into his arms. He raised his glass.

  “Well done, Sara. She’s an amazing kid.”

  “She has been from the start, really. It’s me as a mom that I worry about. I mean, you’ve probably figured out that she’s kind of…”

  “Mature for her age? Yeah. I get that.” He rose to his full height, bringing her heart into her throat. “You’re gonna have a hell of a time keeping me away now.” He walked by her, not touching or speaking. She sighed, knowing she didn’t deserve any different.

  She followed him into the kitchen and watched him refill his glass. He turned, pinning her with his fa
miliar, deep blue gaze.

  “I want to take her with me to Orlando next week. I’m meeting Mo and the kids there. Brandis has a short leave to the states, so we planned…”

  “Are you nuts?” She only half meant it. But she sensed the control she had over the situation slipping from her.

  Why not trade one Uncle for another, a tiny voice whispered.

  No. This is my daughter. Our life. I won’t let him swoop in and take over.

  Realizing she could finally mentally verbalize to her reluctance to let Jack get too closely involved with Katie, she glared at him. “You can’t do that. She has a schedule. A routine.”

  “She’s four years old for Christ’s sake. I’ll be sure and put it on her secretary’s calendar.” He kept his face neutral but she sensed anger on the horizon. She dug her heels in, not really sure why, but needing to assert herself. This was it. This was the moment. The moment Jack took over.

  “No.”

  “Why not? Jealous? I can take you, too.”

  She stepped away from him. “She hardly knows you. I mean what kind of mother would let her daughter go off to Florida with some…guy she hardly knows?”

  He frowned and her scalp prickled in that familiar way, anticipating a fight.

  “I’m not some guy.” He gripped her arm as she tried to walk past him. “And you fucking well know it.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She yanked out of his grip and walked to her bedroom. Doing her best to ignore him, she stripped out the suit she felt like she’d had on for days and tugged on sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. She sighed and yanked her hair up into a ponytail.

  Stop it Sara. Don’t be such a hypocrite. You pushed him away on purpose. Give him a break. Stop acting surprised that he’s smitten with the girl.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. The older Katie got, the more of Jack’s personality she saw in her. She was organized to the point of painful, tidy, neat, and eager to be in control of everything around her. It was something she’d been forced to acknowledge lately.

  She’s your child. You get to say “no” if you want.

  To her surprise, Jack had his coat back on and keys in hand by the time she made her way back downstairs. She tried not to let the disappointment show.

  “So, thanks. For today.” Face neutral, she brushed past him on her way to the kitchen.

  “No problem.” He stayed put. She leaned against the kitchen counter. “You think I’m kidding.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

  “About dislodging me from your life now that I’ve met…your daughter and spent some time with her.” He stared at her. Then, before she could blink, he had her in his arms. His lips hovered over hers. She tried to calm her pounding heart, realizing her deep well of desire for the man holding her right now.

  “Jack.” She made a half-hearted attempt to pull away. “Don’t…”

  …ever let me go…

  He put a finger over her lips. “I won’t.” He brought his face close. “But I won’t be denied my own daughter. Are we clear?” Sara gasped when he stepped away. “I’ll let you continue to delude her into thinking I’m yet another uncle. But I’m doing that for her sake, not yours.”

  She tried to speak, but no words formed. Until something horrible flooded her brain, a fear of losing Katie forever that left her cold, and shaking. He chuckled, but his eyes stayed dark with anger.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I won’t press the issue. I don’t need a paternity test to know that’s my child asleep in the other room. But you will have to adjust your damnable independence a little.” He ran a finger down her face. “You and I will just have to learn how to get along, at least in front of her. Because I will be let into her life.”

  “You have no say in this.” Her whole body ached to have him close, but her mind would not let her yield. Too many years of denial and anger between them, perhaps, but there it was.

  “Actually I do. I won’t make you prove anything. We’ll just have a quiet understanding between us. Got it?” He kissed her then, forcefully, with an urgency that made her moan as he pressed her against the kitchen counter. He tore his lips from hers and stepped back. “I’ll pick her up again tomorrow. We’ll talk more then.” And with that, he was gone, the door making an annoying soft click behind him.

  She shook with fury, remorse, and a weird sense of relief. She’d been holding herself together for nearly five years, operating under a strange sort of immaculate conception myth in her own head. As she watched his car pull out of her driveway, the small kernel of hope that maybe, now, they could make something different work nestled deep in her soul.

  If he’d even want her was anyone’s guess of course. She’d been so adamant, so stubborn. If he demanded significant time with the girl, she’d allow it. Encourage it, even.

  But would it be too late?

  She stood for almost fifteen minutes staring in the mirror at her face. She’d washed, masked, toned, the works. She touched her cheek. Ran a fingertip across her lips and down her neck.

  Jack. He loved her and she needed to cut the crap and admit she felt the same way.

  Her heart raced. It felt like a metal band was wrapped around her chest, tightening with her every inhale. Her face flushed. She put her hand to her neck. Tears spilled from her eyes, dropping onto the marble vanity top.

  Oh God. Could she do this? Could she trust him? Or would it be the dumbest decision she ever made for her and her daughter?

  “Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it all to hell and back…Gah!” Jack pounded the steering wheel all the way home. An incoming call dinged through the radio. He glanced down and saw Evan’s name on the screen. He hit the answer button on the steering wheel.

  “What?”

  “In civilized countries we say ‘hello’ when answering the phone.”

  His friend’s voice was light, but Jack sensed something was wrong.

  “Fuck off. I’m in a shitty mood.”

  “Good. Me too. It’s why I’m calling.”

  * * *

  His house felt cold, empty and pissed him off to no end. His psyche could not take much more. Total abstinence from sex of all kinds, vanilla and otherwise, made him want to leap out of his skin. The few women he’d taken on perfunctory dates just to get off later danced through his head. His balls ached and his head pounded. He jerked the shower on full force and stepped into the burning hot streams coming at him from above and the sides.

  By the time he got out fury made the room dim. He flopped down on the bed, ran his hand up and down his stubborn erection, and proceeded to relieve a bit of stress to the point where he could at least walk. Wandering downstairs, he noted the time and wished he could talk to his sister. Then again, she’d just brow beat him for being such a pussy. He sighed, grabbed his keys and headed out to meet his friend.

  “You know Gordon, you’re being a real pussy about this.” Evan held up a beer bottle.

  “You know Adams, I don’t give a shit what you think, right?” Jack poured another splash of bourbon in his glass. The music surged and pulsed around him. Evan sighed and did the same. “What’s your problem? I told you my sad sack story. It’s your turn.”

  “Julie wants a baby. I don’t. I thought she didn’t. We fought. Now I’m here with you like a loser instead of home with my wife where I fucking belong.” He sighed and drained his beer, signaling for another.

  “Huh.” Jack sipped and watched the stage show. It had zero effect on him. He felt numb, packed in cotton, with a need so urgent to go back to Sara’s right now he had to grip his thighs to keep from leaping up and running out the door. Hanging out at the area’s fanciest gentlemen’s club—okay, titty bar—usually lifted his mood. But right now he felt like the saddest sack on sad sack nation.

  “Yeah.” Evan turned to the show then too and the men stayed silent until agreeing without speaking to leave the strip club where they’d agreed to meet.

  All the way home Jack felt dirty, slimy, coated in shame for
even going there, even though the place had been his go-to for a lot of years. The thought of those women, having to act the way they did just to make ends meet, feed their kids, go to school made him swear off going to any of them ever again.

  * * *

  Sara frowned at the unfamiliar number on her screen. She ran her fingers through her shower wet hair and answered it.

  “Sara, hey. It’s Julie.”

  “Oh, hi there.” She’d met Evan and Julie a couple of times. It was all part of the complex web of friendship Jack wove which included Suzanne. The woman stayed silent. “Um. Can I help you with something?”

  “I was wondering if Evan was with you. I mean, with Jack.”

  “Jack’s not here. So I don’t know. I can call him…”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  Sara sat, poured a glass of wine. Julie’s few words spoke volumes. “Do you want to come over? I mean, I know we don’t know each other that well but…”

  But now that I plan to do everything in my power to get Jack back I might as well make friends with his friends, she finished in her head.

  “Oh, no, that’s all right.”

  “No, really, I mean it. I have some decent wine and a few snacks. Let’s chat. We can compare notes on how shitty men are.”

  Julie laughed. “Fine. What’s your address?”

  Sara had never really had a close female friend. She mistrusted other women, had been burned by several supposed close friends in college, and had limited her engagement with females in general outside of work. By the time Julie was weaving back into her kitchen to open another bottle, Sara had to concentrate to not see double. But it was fun, god damn it. And they were drunk enough to declare themselves best friends forever.

  “I want a baby so bad.” Julie dropped onto the couch. “You’re lucky.” Sara tried not to snort too derisively.

  “No. Just fertile with bad timing.”

  “Evan was such a total shit about it tonight. Claimed I misled him. I’ve changed my mind, damn it. He won’t listen.”