I exhale slowly, nodding like I’m unaffected. “Yeah, I’ll see you when I get back, Sarge.” I pat his shoulder in a way I know will piss him off. “Tate’s birthday party and all.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t stop me as I step past him.
Jules meets me at the exit, pushing it open as Sarge’s death glare follows us out into the cool morning air.
“What did he say?” she asks, her voice laced with hesitation. “Whatever it was, I—”
I cup her cheek, my thumb grazing along the sharp line of her jaw, grounding both of us in the moment.
“I’ll see you on Saturday for Tate’s birthday,” I murmur.
She swallows, her breath catching as she leans into my touch. “Have a safe flight.”
“I will.”
Reluctantly, I let my hand fall away and head to my car. Jules lingers on the sidewalk, her arms wrapping around herself as she watches me go. As I pull out of the parking spot, she lifts a hand in a small wave.
I don’t know what’s going on with Sarge, but if he thinks I’m staying away from Jules, he’s dead wrong.
Chapter Seventeen
Jules
“You’ll call me if anything happens, right?” I ask Sarge, lingering by the door.
He waves me off as he flips open a box of pizza on the dining room table. “Jules, I can take care of my own nephew for two hours.”
Connie invited me to an art exhibit tonight, a friend of hers showcasing new work at a local gallery. With Corbin out of town, I tried to get out of it. Tried to convince myself that a night in with Tate sounded better. But Sarge, who overheard the entire conversation, volunteered to babysit.
And by ‘volunteered’, I mean he told me flat-out that I needed a fun girl’s night instead of another family dinner with my ex-husband.
I still don’t know why he’s so against Corbin and me spending time together. It’s not like we’re sneaking around behind Tate’s back. We’re doing this for him.
“I’ll only be ten minutes away,” I remind Sarge, hesitating.
He grabs a slice of pizza and takes a massive bite straight from the box.
“Plate?” I widen my eyes at him.
Sarge shrugs, completely unbothered, as Tate dissolves into laughter.
I shake my head and grab two plates from the kitchen, setting one in front of Tate before placing a slice of cheese on it.
“Don’t be like your uncle,” I lecture, shooting Sarge a pointed look.
With a mouth full of food, Sarge grumbles, “Hey!”
Tate grins, already reaching for his slice, and I kneel beside him. “I don’t have to go, bud. If you’d rather I stay here—”
His small hands cup my cheeks, his fingers warm and sticky with pizza grease. “Mom, Sarge and me are gonna eat pizza and watch a movie. We’ll be fine.”
My heart squeezes at the confidence in his voice, the certainty that he’s safe and loved.
“Two hours,” I promise. “I’ll be back in time to tuck you in.”
Sarge rolls his eyes dramatically. “We’ll be fine, Jules. Go have fun. Or, you know, try.”
I sigh, smoothing down the hem of my black, thigh-length dress. “I mean it, Sarge. Call me if anything happens.”
