You could have this too.
Pushing down the little voice in the back of my mind, I grab a plate and hope this isn’t the last time I’m here with them.
42
JENSEN
“Hey Mama,” I say, kissing her on the cheek before scooping Remi into my arms and inhaling her sweet baby smell. It’s definitely one of those things I didn’t understand until I became a dad. “Where’s Nessa? I thought she was home.”
Nessa had almost canceled on her book club plans when I found out last night I’d have to work this morning. Mama had been all too happy to watch Remi for a couple of hours, easily settling into the role of doting grandmother. And selfishly, I liked seein’ Nessa integrate herself into the town—finding friends and making plans.
Like it could be more than temporary.
My mother straightens and pulls a wipe from the container before rubbing at the paint spots on her hand.
“Mama?”
Her eyes are shiny when they meet mine, regret swimming there, and my heart squeezes. “What happened?”
“I upset her,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to, honest. I showed her the art projects we made today.” She gestures across the kitchen table where no fewer than ten pieces of construction paper are covered with Remi’s feet and hands in cute littledesigns like flowers and hearts. “I knew she seemed stressed this morning when I got here and thought this might be a little something to make her smile.”
Closing the distance, I wrap my mother in a hug before dropping a kiss on her head and handing Remi to her.
“I think Ness is overwhelmed is all,” I start, spitballing because I have no idea why she would be upset today. “Her time here is limited, and I’m sure she’s feelin’ a lot of ways about it.” Giving her a soft smile, I add, “I’ll go talk to her, okay?”
Mama nods, and I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly before taking off down the hall. Nessa’s door is closed—not the one she’s been sharing with me—and I have to tamp down my annoyance.
Knocking softly, I say her name and push my way inside.
“Are you o?—”
I don’t even get the words out, before Nessa spins on me, hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed and tearstained as fire blazes in her eyes.
“I didn’t ask for this,” she hisses, taking a step toward me and jabbing her finger into my chest. “I didn’t want this, Jensen. I don’tdofeelings and I don’t want them. My life is fine without them—great even. I’ve managed to make it exactly what I want.”
“Ness—”
“But then you and your mom and your family and friends come waltzing in here and all of a sudden Icareabout goat soap and friend holidays and the fucking adorable flower handprint papers that I can hang in my office or my locker.But you know what else?”
“What’s that?” I ask, keeping my face carefully neutral as she continues on a warpath that’s so much bigger than finger paint.
“You.”
“Me?” I ask, confused even as my heart beats harder in my chest.
“Yes, you.” She fists her hand in my shirt, pulling me until her breasts are pressed against me. “I told you I didn’t want a nice guy, Jensen, but you burrowed under my skin like that damn dog out in the living room.”
“I know you’re mad, but I’m not sure how to fix it,” I murmur, hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest and the way her lips have parted like an invitation.
“I don’t either. But it’s your fault and now I like them.” Her eyes drop to my lips, lingering there before returning to meet my stare. “It’s your fault I likeyou.”
“That is a really inconvenient declaration to make with my mama on the other side of that door,” I admit.
“You were supposed to be too nice for me, Jensen.”
“I’m plenty nice,” I say, low enough that the words sound like gravel as I back her up until I’ve caged her in against the wall, “until I don’t wanna be.” My hands circle her wrists, bringing them up and pinning them in one of mine above her head.
“I feel like I missed that disclaimer.”
