“As in …?”
We stand in the kitchen, each of us holding our mugs of coffee. The sun streaks into the room and gives things a cheery tint that probably isn’t representative of the conversation. What strikes me more is how real this conversation is. Two days ago, I could barely get a word out of her about who she was, why she left Columbus, and why she was heading to an island in the Pacific.
And now?
It’s as though she’s peeled away the reticence and is letting me see her soul. It makes things easier, and I’m happy she seems to trust me enough to share with me. But I’m not sure I deserve it. I know I’m not equipped enough to handle it.
“When I was a little girl, I thought I would grow up and have a couple of kids of my own and be this famous realtor, of all things.” She laughs. “In high school, I used to go to all of the model home centers and look at the new homes. And you have no idea how many hours I’ve spent on Zillow, just looking at the houses and imagining what I would do to the spaces or who I could see living there. It’s a weird hobby.”
“A little bit.”
She grins. “But then …” The smile falters. “But then my family fell apart. Nettie left. I left the day after I graduated high school with Shawn. I thought we were so in love and that it was going to be the start of my life, but it was a survival mechanism. I just had to get away from my mom and stepdad.”
I press my lips together and try to think my thoughts through before I say anything. But what can I say?
“Shawn and I tried to have a baby a couple of times, but it didn’t work out.” She looks at the floor. “My mom was calling and asking for money. She blamed her husband’s alcoholism on me because I left. Said he missed me so much.” She looks up. “He didn’t miss me. He was a bitter, nasty alcoholic, and had been every day that we lived with him. Yet she said I was his excuse. She didn’t just let him blame me, which would’ve been fine. She blamed me too.”
My chest tightens. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
She looks resolved. I hate it.
“At least you know it wasn’t your fault,” I say.
“Yeah …” She takes a drink. “I got out of my relationship with Shawn a while back because he actually got someone else pregnant. Blamed that on me too—if I could’ve given him a child, he wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere.”
My jaw drops. Anger bubbles inside me.
“He said that? To you?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s fine. I left him. I knew I’d be okay. But then the thing with Chuck and then the Hawaii offer and I really thought I was finally getting to start with my two feet on the ground for once …” She sighs. “And now all of this. I’m still batting from a deficit.”
“That depends on how you look at it. I’m here to help you.”
Her shoulders slump. “And I’m eternally grateful to you. I just don’t want to be the girl who burdens everyone in yet another chapter of my life. It’s a load to carry around. It’s … depressing.”
I set my cup down. I face her shoulder to shoulder and look at her until she looks at me.
I’m not sure what to do with all of this either. I’m a little messed up about it too. But I’m not going to be the guy who lets her feel bad and dicks her over like the rest of the men in her life—if you can call them that.
“For some reason, the world wanted us to do this together or else you would’ve been able to read house numbers,” I tell her.
That gets a little grin.
“So, let’s figure it out,” I say. “Rosie just lost her mom. That’s worse than what either of us are going through.”
“No. You’re right.”
“Maybe whatever life you build from here with Rosie will be better than any life you could’ve made in Hawaii,” I say. “I mean, you can only eat so many pineapples. And I’m not bad scenery. Just saying.”
She laughs. “No, you’re not.”
She must say it before she thinks because her eyes go wide as soon as the words are out of her mouth.
I take a step toward her but am stopped by the sound of little feet pattering on the tile.
“Boone!” Rosie yells. “Boone!”
“Hey,” I say as she enters the kitchen. “Are you okay, little girl?”
She squeezes her Glo Worm tight. “I thought you were gone.”
Oh, hell. I need to make sure she never has that fear again.
Jaxi squats down. “We’re both here. Just wondering what you wanted for breakfast.”
“Pancakes?” Rosie asks.
“I can order that,” I say.
Jaxi laughs as Rosie burrows herself in her arms.
“You and your phone orders.” Jaxi stands and scoops Rosie up on the way. “We have to start eating at home.”
Eating at home.
Rosie leans toward me until I take her. In exchange, I hand Jaxi my phone.
She furrows her brow. “What do I do with this?”
“Order breakfast.” I toss her a wink as I carry Rosie toward the living room. “We have cartoons to watch.”
“Oh, is this how it’s going to go?” she jokes.
“Hey, I have to potty,” Rosie says as if this information is news to her.
I stop in the doorway. Rosie is perched on my hip with her head on my shoulder. I look at Jaxi, whose beautiful face is lit with a soft smile as she looks at her niece in my arms.
She holds my phone to the side. “You really just handed me your phone?”
“So?”
A slow smile spreads across her cheeks. “Okay. Fine. Bacon or sausage with your pancakes?”
“None,” Rosie says. “Just lots of syrup.”
“Bacon for me.”
“I’ll have sausage,” Jaxi says to herself.
Her eyes snap to mine, and I can’t help it. I laugh.
“Let’s get out of here,” I fake-whisper to Rosie. “Your auntie is being naughty.”
Jaxi blushes. It’s a beautiful sight—one I hope to see again.
The odds of it are good because she lives with me.
Which is both the best and weirdest thing to happen to me in a long time.
Fourteen
Jaxi
Oh, my gosh. What are these people doing?
A stream—no, a river—of people come in and out of Boone’s house. Everyone is carrying something. The women bring in containers of food and gallons of tea. The men bring in boxes and packages. A girl with braids who showed up at the same time from a food delivery service brings in paper bags marked with a grocery store logo.
And, in the midst of it all, is a woman with a warm, motherly smile and a no-nonsense attitude who directs the traffic.
I hold Rosie’s hand and tuck her into my side. We stand by the kitchen door and try not to get trampled by the activity.
“What’s happening?” Rosie asks, her face a little pink from the afternoon in the pool.
“I don’t know. I think these people are Boone’s family.”
“Oh.”
Rosie nibbles on her bottom lip and watches the activity. Finally, she shakes my hand away and makes a beeline right in the middle of the thong of bodies.