“So why does it feel…”Sad. Lonely. Unsatisfying. Incomplete.“… off lately?”
Sully gave Jordy a long look over his beer. “Can I ask you something?”
Jordy shrugged. “Sure.” If it was too personal to answer in a bar with their teammates, Jordy just wouldn’t.
“Have you ever wanted and worked towards anything else in life?”
The question hit Jordy right in the solar plexus. He didn’t think it showed, though. He hoped it didn’t—hoped he kept his cool and that his confused head tilt and inquiring, “What do you mean?” didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.
“Like, look, I know I met you postdivorce, so it’s been a minute since you were married, but surely at one point you wanted to marry her and be a good husband.”
And sure, Jordy had wanted that. He had loved Sanna and married her because he wanted to be with her, but Jordy hadn’t ever… worked for her. They’d been high school sweethearts, and their love story had had a sense of inevitability. They werea perfect match. Of course they would get together, of course they’d marry. Hell, Jordy had missed most of his senior year, and their peers had still voted them most likely to get married in the next five years.
Jordy didn’t have to work for their relationship. It just happened.
And maybe now, weeks later, Jordy understood what Emma had said about his relationship with Sanna not being messy enough.
Not sure how to even begin to say any of that out loud, Jordy shrugged.
Because Sully was a good guy, he just patted Jordy on the shoulder and asked if he was ready to call a cab.
A WEEKafter Jordy’s return, he left on another overnight trip. This time it was only twenty-four hours out of town, but it gave Rowan a reprieve from the tension for one night.
Since they weren’t having sex or watching bad crime dramas, their interactions were limited to Kaira handoffs and togetherness enforced by Kaira herself, who, despite their best efforts to not be awkward, was unimpressed by their unwillingness to spend time together. Whenever both Rowan and Jordy were home, she insisted on activities that involved all three of them.
With Jordy playing games three times a week and Rowan throwing himself into all the non-Jordy relationships in his life, Kaira’s opportunities were limited. But Rowan couldn’t and wouldn’t avoid the house completely when doing so would have resulted in Kaira’s devastated big brown eyes.
But God, enforced family time with Kaira as a buffer was a knife to the ribs—a tantalizing view of everything that Rowancouldn’t have and hadn’t known he wanted until he was in the middle of it. Who knew that domesticity was so goddamn nice?
Except—Rowan had always suspected, hadn’t he? That was the whole point behind wanting to put down roots and make a home for himself. After a childhood of a cold home and impersonal dormitories, of being left behind and ignored, he wanted something that felt worn-in. Cozy.
Like those stupid bad-TV nights with Jordy, snuggled up under the blanket on the couch and wagering chores against who could identify the murderer.
But today was Sunday, and with Jordy gone and no nanny available, Rowan and Kaira could have some cute domestic time together. At least he’d get a partial fix.
“Hey, poppet.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then sat across from her at the kitchen table to eat lunch. “What do you think about a trip to the library this afternoon? We could see if they have anything new on armadillos.” The weather had turned chilly, but the day offered a bright blue sky and plenty of sunshine, and Rowan had spent enough time in Toronto to know one did not take a gorgeous fall day for granted.
Kaira picked at her sandwich and shrugged.
Maybe he could drum up some enthusiasm if he sweetened the pot. “And then I thought on the way home we could stop for a cupcake. We haven’t been to that cute little café since the summer.”
“No!”
Surprised by the vehemence, Rowan pulled his sandwich away from his mouth. “No you don’t want to go to the library, or no you don’t want a cupcake?”
Kaira shoved her plate away so forcefully it shattered on the floor. “No!” she shouted, sounding more like a toddler than a six-year-old. “No, no, no!”
Before Rowan could say another word, she stomped off to her room and slammed the door.
Okay, then.
Rowan finished his sandwich. Then he carefully picked his way across the floor to the hallway, slipped on a pair of Jordy’s slides, and grabbed the broom and dustpan. If this was going to be one of those days, the last thing they needed was one of them cutting their feet on top of everything else.
Cleaning he could manage. Now he had to switch to the child-minding brain.
Clearly Kaira was upset about something. Unfortunately there were too many possibilities to narrow it down. Wrong sandwich. Missing her father. Angry there was no nanny today. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Stubbed her toe two hours ago (Rowan had witnessed that breakdown too). Sun too shiny. Mercury in retrograde. She probably couldn’t even articulate which of these, or more likely which combination of these, had caused the outburst, and Rowan couldn’t fix any of it.
Giving in to a tantrum wouldn’t set a good precedent either. And she definitely needed to eat some lunch or he was going to be dealing with this all afternoon, when all he really wanted was fun, drama-free times followed by a nice cuddle.
