A favorite memory floats to the forefront of my mind. A glowing fireplace and several picture books strewn across my lap . . . Marley asleep in my arms and Connor dozing on my shoulder. It was that moment that I realized I don’t have to be Marley’s mom. I can just be Jessa, because Jessa belongs here.
It helps that Connor has this innate ability to sense when I need a moment to myself. And I certainly appreciate the few extra minutes in front of the mirror. We haven’t gone out on a date in . . . I don’t even want to count the months. Putting a number on it would force far too much pressure on this evening to be perfect. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make it the best night we’ve had in a while.
I’m not a stylist, by any means, but I know my way around some bronzer and a little eyeshadow. And let me tell you—this look? Smoky, warm, and all kinds of sexy. It’s too bad this velvet slip dress will spend most of the night hidden away under a winter jacket . . . but such is early spring in Chicago, I’m learning. It’s not not winter until it’s very suddenly summer.
I’m just about done perfecting my lip liner when a knock echoes down the hall.
“They’re here,” I call, peeking my head out the bathroom door.
“I’ve got it,” Connor calls back.
It occurs to me that we’ve still got all of our holiday decor up, even though we’ve long since entered Valentine’s Day territory. It would be easy to kick myself for not cleaning up before having friends over, but a little voice in my head reminds me that I’m juggling a full-time job with co-parenting a tiny human—who isn’t even a full year old yet, I might add.
I listen to the familiar voices of our friends at the door—Penelope’s excited chirp, Wolfie’s rumbling growl. Part of me wants to just cancel our plans and hang out with them, but we rarely get an opportunity like tonight for just the two of us. And I can’t pass that up.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Penelope has a very pleased Marley propped on her hip.
“Oof, Marley girl. You’re getting heavy.”
“Milk o’clock is her favorite time of the day,” I say with a shrug before pulling Penelope into a side hug and shooting a smile Wolfie’s way, who returns it with a silent nod.
“You look so hot.” Penelope gasps, making a show of looking me up and down before glaring at her brother with an adorable pout. “Hey, why do you always get to go on dates with Jessa? When’s my turn?”
“Always is a strong word.” Connor chuckles, but his voice is strained. Date night has historically come second to parenting, a pattern we’re both guilty of falling into over the winter.
“How’s work, Jessa?”
This earnest question comes from Wolfie, catching me a little off guard.
“Oh. It’s great. We just finished processing a ton of citizenship paperwork, and one of the students I’m tutoring learned how to spell his name and all of his siblings’ names this week. It’s a lot of work, but it’s very fulfilling.”
I’m still not used to talking about my job. I mean, going from part-time nanny to full-time nonprofit employee is a pretty wild evolution. How much information do I share? How much do people care? I could go on and on, but I’m always careful not to bore people either.
“Sounds like good, decent work,” Wolfie says with a serious expression. “Helping those in need through a substantial life change is no joke. You’re better than the rest of us, that’s for sure.”
Not only have I never heard the man string so many words together in succession, but I’ve also never been so speechless. Before I try and fail to find the right response, Connor comes to my rescue. Thank God.
“That’s not news to me.” He chuckles, putting an arm around my shoulder and planting a warm kiss to my temple. “She works harder than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m lucky to be on her arm tonight.”
I beam up at him. “Oh, stop . . .”
“It’s true. I don’t know how you do it. You deserve a break.”
“And you deserve one too,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow at her brother in a look that says we’ve had this conversation before.
I reluctantly duck out from under Connor’s arm to untangle Marley’s chubby fingers from Penelope’s hair. “We’re so grateful to you both for coming out to watch her for a bit.”
“Of course. I think the two of you taking a night to yourselves is a great idea. And I love spending time with my perfect, darling niece.”
“And she loves spending time with your perfect, darling hair. Let up, Marley,” I say, scolding her gently, but Penelope just laughs.
“C’mere, Wolfie. Hold her,” Penelope says, and Connor and I share a look of mild alarm.
Has Wolfie ever held Marley? Has Wolfie ever held a child, period?
I watch in awe as Penelope passes Marley off to the gentle giant, who nestles the baby girl comfortably into his arm, keeping her head supported and her attention engaged. Penelope sighs happily, leaning against his bicep as they each offer a finger to Marley’s eager hands.
“What do you think? Do you want one of these?” she teases, but I can hear the genuine curiosity in her voice.
I’ve never thought of Wolfie as a dad, but it kind of makes sense. The protectiveness, the no-nonsense attitude, the tenderness beneath all that rough exterior . . . He’d be a wonderful dad.
“I’m open to it.”
The hint of a smile on Wolfie’s lips mirrors Penelope’s full-blown grin. Their happiness is contagious, and soon we’re all grinning like the cast of a Hallmark movie, old holiday decor on the walls and all.
“Ready?” Connor squeezes my hand, and my heart says bah-thump loudly in my chest.
“Yeah, but . . . are you sure about this?” The question catapults out of my mouth despite my best intentions.
Connor sighs wearily, the hard line of his lips telling me he’s in the exact same boat. The worry boat. We haven’t left Marley in the care of friends for more than an hour before. There’s really no knowing what to expect.
“It’s not like I asked Caleb to watch her,” Connor mumbles with a half smirk, his eyes twinkling with humor.
“Okay, true . . .”
“We have the guide you sent us, Jess,” Penelope says with a reassuring smile. “We’ll take good care of her.”
Connor quirks an eyebrow at me. “Guide?”
I shrug sheepishly. “Yeah, just the basics. Bottle temperature, diaper protocol . . . you know.”
“She typed it all up in a Word document,” Penelope says with a grin.
Connor just smiles and pulls me into a tight hug. “How about we get going then?”
“Yes. Go, go.”
Penelope shoos us down the hall, where Connor helps me into my coat and slides his arms into his own. After promising her that we won’t be back until ten p.m. at the earliest, Connor and I are out the door and cruising down Lakeshore Drive in no time.
Car rides have always been a time for thinking, and this one’s no exception. With my fingers intertwined with Connor’s, my eyes glaze over as we thread through the nighttime tapestry of streetlamps and headlights.
It’s wild how half a year can pass in the blink of an eye and sweep up everything that was once so true for me, replacing it with a whole new perspective on life. I went from nomad nanny with lofty ideals of saving the world to busy career woman with a tangible mission and dirty diapers to boot in barely any time at all.