Baby Lessons

by Teri Wilson

  Jack opened his eyes and frowned at him. So? That was the sum total of his captain’s words of wisdom? “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

  “She might not want to talk to you, and I respect that. But there are other ways of making your feelings known.” Cap cast a meaningful glance at the paper. “You’ve managed to do a pretty good job of it thus far.”

  Jack shook his head. He couldn’t write another letter to the paper. He was finished with that—100 percent done. “Somehow I don’t think writing to the Bee would get me back into Madison’s good graces. Even if I wanted to, she’d probably never see it. She’s gone back to New York.”

  “Then it sounds like you need to think bigger,” Cap said.

  Easier said than done.

  Jack stood and headed for the coffeemaker. He was far too under-caffeinated for this particular conversation.

  But as he made his way toward the kitchen counter, his attention snagged on the reflection in the darkened flat-screen television hanging above the kitchen table, just over Cap’s head. A wooden bowl of apples on the countertop glimmered in the screen as if it were a darkened mirror.

  Jack stopped in his tracks as a tiny flicker of something stirred deep inside his gut—something that felt an awful lot like hope.

  “What?” Cap said, gaze flitting from the bowl of fruit to the television and back.

  “You’re a genius.” Jack smiled his first real smile in a week. He grabbed an apple from the bowl and pointed at Cap with it. “Also, I’m going to need the rest of the day off.”

  Think bigger indeed.

  * * *

  Madison’s feet ached almost as much as her heart did.

  When she’d lived in Lovestruck, she’d walked pretty much everywhere in her trademark stilettos, and she’d been just fine. But setting her Jimmy Choo shoes back in Manhattan had been another story. Maybe it was all the steps leading up to the fourth floor walk-up she’d arranged to sublet from one of her old friends at Vogue who’d be gone to Paris Fashion Week for ten days, or maybe it was simply that everyone in the city walked at a much faster clip than they did in Vermont. Madison wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d been back in the Big Apple for less than a week and her heels were raw and bloodied.

  Plus, she was so out of practice using a hair straightener that she’d already burned herself three times—most recently on the thumb of her right hand, which was wreaking havoc with her ability to tweet, Snapchat, Insta and post to all the other myriad social media outlets that she was responsible for in her new position.

  New York hates me.

  She stared blankly at the glass brick walls of her cubicle. Madison didn’t really believe New York hated her, but she was beginning to come to terms with a most inconvenient truth—the lifelong love affair she’d had with Manhattan just didn’t feel the same anymore. She’d gotten used to moseying down Main Street and sipping her maple latte on the way to work in the morning instead of cramming herself into the subway and jostling for sidewalk space. She missed waking up with a hairless dog curled up beside her and the clickety-clack of Aunt Alice’s knitting needles late into the night. Most of all, she missed Jack.

  She missed him so much that she’d begun Googling the Lovestruck Fire Department’s webpage multiple times a day just to see his face. She’d gaze wistfully at his headshot until her cubicle mate—Felicity, Fashionista’s assistant beauty editor—would clear her throat, reminding Madison that she was supposed to be tweeting about the cape dress that Meghan Markle had just worn instead of daydreaming about the fireman she’d left behind.

  “Who is he, exactly?” Felicity asked as she sashayed into their tiny shared space early Monday morning.

  Madison blinked. She’d been daydreaming about her life back in Lovestruck—again—and hadn’t realized Jack’s chiseled features were lighting up her browser.

  “Oh, um. No one, really.” She jammed at the escape key until he disappeared and the hot pink Fashionista logo took the place of his strong jaw and dreamy blue eyes.

  “I just thought I’d ask since you’ve looked at his picture so much in the four days you’ve worked here.” Felicity winked at her as she lowered herself into her chair. Her lipstick was the same color as Jack’s fire engine, and the Chanel jumpsuit she had on probably cost more than Main Street Yarn made in an entire month. “Not that I blame you. He’s certainly hunky.”

  “You should see his little girls. They’re six-month-old twins.” Madison wondered how long she’d remember Emma and Ella’s tiny little toes, their baby-soft scents and the impossible softness of their skin. She couldn’t imagine ever forgetting those tiny details.

  “Twins?” Felicity’s perfectly lined eyes widened. “Wow. That’s sweet, but I’m not really a baby person.”

  Madison nodded. “I get it.”

  She did get it, even though she found it slightly odd that Felicity kept a framed photo of an infant on her desk, despite not being a baby person. But everything else about Felicity screamed fashion plate, and there were dozens of other items on her desk that were completely non-baby related—a carefully curated collection of perfume bottles from Jo Malone, candid pictures from Fashion Week, no less than four engraved lipstick cases from Guerlain Paris. Madison couldn’t imagine a baby in the pretty woman’s arms, no matter how hard she tried.

  Not that she was judging her in any way. Quite the contrary, actually. Just a month or so ago, Madison had been Felicity, and it was a perfectly wonderful way to be. Madison had been happy back then. Content. But then she’d gotten fired, moved to Lovestruck and now everything had changed. She’d changed, and now she wasn’t so sure she belonged at a place like Fashionista anymore.

  Every time she stepped off the elevator into the sleek lobby, she wondered what was going on at the Bee. Had Brett finally found an investigative piece to work on, or was he still working the maple syrup and bake sale beat? What new recipes had Nancy whipped up for her food column? Was Mr. Grant still rocking his awful brown tie?

  Most of all, though, she wondered if she’d made a mistake when she’d refused to forgive Jack for not telling her sooner that he’d been writing the letters from Fired Up in Lovestruck. She told herself repeatedly that she’d done the right thing, but it was getting harder and harder to remember exactly why she’d been so hurt and angry with him. She hadn’t been 100 percent truthful, either—certainly not in the beginning. The letters Jack had written hadn’t exactly been complimentary, but they hadn’t been downright cruel, either. What was that old saying about sticks and stones?

  Words will never hurt me.

  Her heart wrenched. Jack’s words had hurt her. She wished they hadn’t, but they had. More than anything, she wished there was a way for him to take those words back.

  “I’m off to the break room for a pressed juice. Want me to bring anything back for you?” Felicity lingered at the entrance to their cubicle.

  “No, I’m good. Thank you, though.” Madison forced herself to smile, and once Felicity was gone, she redirected her attention to actual work.

  She posted a few snaps of various leopard print shoes and had just started crafting a graphic with shopping links on how to get Reese Witherspoon’s latest red carpet look for less when Felicity came flying back to the cubicle, pressed juice sloshing everywhere.

  “Madison!” There was a blob of green liquid right in the center of her jumpsuit’s bodice, but Felicity either didn’t notice or she didn’t care.

  Alarm bells started ringing in Madison’s mind. They sounded suspiciously like the sirens on one of the LFD engines. “What’s wrong?”

  Felicity shook her head, and her glossy blond hair swished around her slender shoulders like she was in a shampoo commercial. The beauty department always managed to get its hands on the best hair products. “Nothing’s wrong. But you need to get up and come to the break room. That fireman whose picture you’re alw
ays staring at is on television!”

  Madison’s entire body went wooden all of a sudden. Jack was on television?

  Felicity plunked her juice down on her desk and tugged on the sleeve of Madison’s sweater—the fuzzy, hand-knitted one Aunt Alice had given her to wear to her night nanny job. She couldn’t quite force herself to give it up, even though it was wholly out of place at Fashionista. “Come on or you’re going to miss it!”

  Madison stumbled to her feet and let Felicity drag her toward the room. The closer they got, the faster Madison’s blistered feet seemed to carry her. By the time she burst through the doors of the break room, she’d passed Felicity and was panting from the effort, even though she wouldn’t quite let herself believe that Jack was really on TV. Not her Jack. He would never. Thus far, he hadn’t even publicly admitted he was Fired Up in Lovestruck. Not as far as she knew, anyway.

  But as she came to a skidding halt in front of the flat screen beside the coffee and juice bar, she was stunned to discover Felicity had been right.

  “See, I told you!” Felicity waved a perfectly manicured hand at the television.

  Jack was sitting on the infamous Good Morning Sunshine sofa, right where Madison had been less than two weeks ago. He looked so good that Madison felt like weeping at the sight of him, but what on earth was he doing?

  Then her gaze shifted to Meghan Ashley sitting beside him, holding up a copy of the Lovestruck Bee. Oh, God, had they somehow identified Jack as Fired Up in Lovestruck and tricked him into making an appearance on the show? Maybe they’d told him they wanted him to come on air to talk about fire safety or something. He was dressed in his LFD shirt and the dark cargo pants he usually wore when he was on duty. It looked like he’d just slid down a fireman’s pole and landed on Meghan Ashley’s sofa.

  Her stomach churned. Jack would probably think she’d called the station and told them exactly where to find Fired Up. Any and all hope they might have for a future was about to go up in smoke, no pun intended.

  But you don’t want a future with Jack Cole, remember?

  A few editorial assistants who’d been busy pouring coffee joined Madison and Felicity where they stood, eyes glued to the screen.

  “Who’s that?” one of them asked. “He’s hot.”

  Felicity answered before Madison could say anything. It seemed she’d lost the ability to form words. “He’s Madison’s secret boyfriend.”

  Madison shook her head in protest. “He’s really...” Not. He wasn’t her secret boyfriend and never had been. But she couldn’t bring herself to say such a thing out loud, because that would make it real, and there was still a tiny, pathetic part of herself that refused to give up hope.

  She just couldn’t believe Good Morning Sunshine had dragged him on air, but it was the only explanation. Meghan was reading all the letters between Fired Up and Queen Bee out loud while Jack sat beside her, as stoic as ever. Madison couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. The Jack Cole she knew would never, ever want his personal business broadcast all over the country like this.

  But then the craziest thing happened.

  After Meghan read Fired Up’s most recent letter to the Bee, she turned toward Jack and smiled. He smiled right back at her before turning his charismatic grin toward the camera. All at once, it seemed as if he was looking right at Madison, straight to the most hidden part of her soul.

  A thousand butterflies took flight deep in her belly, just like they had when Jack had reached for her hand and held it to the wall on the day they’d met. The question he’d asked her back then whirled in her mind.

  Feel anything?

  Yes, she wanted to say. I feel you, and I love you...still.

  A banner flashed across the bottom of the screen, directly beneath Jack’s face.

  Jack Cole from Lovestruck, Vermont, with one last message for Queen Bee

  Madison’s knees buckled, and Felicity reached for her hand and squeezed it tight.

  Jack cleared his throat. “Thanks for giving me a few minutes this morning to come on here and read my latest letter to Queen Bee. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve written it in the form of a list.”

  A listicle?

  A hysterical burst of laughter escaped Madison’s lips. Was she dreaming? How could this be real?

  Jack glanced down at a piece of paper in his hands. “So without further ado, here are the top ten reasons Fired Up in Lovestruck is in love with Queen Bee.”

  “Oh, my God. I remember hearing about this.” An editorial assistant from the fashion department gestured to Madison with her coffee cup. “You’re Queen Bee, aren’t you? He’s talking to you.”

  “Shhh! We need to hear.” Felicity gave Madison’s hand another squeeze, which was a good thing because her support was the sole reason Madison was still upright.

  Jack was in love with her and he’d managed to get himself onto national television just to win her back.

  That was what was happening, wasn’t it?

  She tried to tamp down the happiness sparkling inside her, just in case...just in case she was dreaming or had somehow misunderstood things. Just in case this was all part of some really elaborate goodbye instead of what she so desperately hoped it was. A new beginning.

  She thought she might faint, but she couldn’t—not without hearing his list. He hadn’t even started reading it yet, and she could already feel her face splitting into a goofy smile.

  “Number one: she loves with her whole heart, even when she’s trying not to.”

  Madison’s breath hitched. He’d cut straight to her soul right off the bat.

  “Number two: she has excellent taste in bedtime stories. Number three: the sound of her voice when I can’t sleep at night.” He looked right into the camera again, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze left no mistake—this wasn’t just an elaborate goodbye. He was opening up to her in a way he never had before.

  She inhaled a ragged breath, tears clouding her vision as he went on.

  “Number four: she’s the best knitter I know.” A secret smile tipped his lips, and Madison laughed. “Number five: children and animals love her, even when she’s afraid they won’t. Number six: I love the way her pink toenails perfectly match the polka dots on her bathrobe. Number seven: I love her untamed hair.”

  Felicity and the editorial assistants cast confused glances at Madison’s carefully flat-ironed do, as did about half a dozen other Fashionista staffers who’d wandered into the break room since Jack began reciting his list.

  Madison barely noticed their curious stares. She was rooted to the spot, hanging on Jack’s every word, pressing her hand to her heart as if she could tuck everything he said deep inside where she could take his words out and replay them again later. Over and over.

  On the screen he took a deep breath, and the sheet of paper in his hands trembled ever so slightly. “Number eight: she’s the bravest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Number nine: my girls miss her. I miss her.”

  Madison sank down into the closest chair. She could barely see Jack’s face on the screen anymore, because she’d begun crying in earnest.

  “I knew it,” Felicity said quietly beside her. “He misses you, too.”

  “And number ten?” Meghan prompted onscreen as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “What’s the last one, Fired Up?”

  “Number ten is the simplest one. I love her for the same reason I love Vermont—she always smells like apples and fresh air.” He looked up from the list, and his eyes shone brighter than Madison had ever seen them before. Forget-me-not blue. “Like home.”

  Everything that happened next seemed to pass in a blur—Meghan gushing over Jack’s letter, the camera switching to a cooking segment before Madison could fully register what she’d just witnessed, the oohs and ahhs of her coworkers, especially Felicity who’d darted back to their cubicle an
d returned with Madison’s handbag and a pair of ballerina flats from the fashion closet.

  “Here. You’re going to need these.” She thrust the items toward Madison. “If you hurry, you can make it to the studio before Jack leaves. You are going after him, aren’t you?”

  Felicity’s sense of urgency pulled Madison out of her dreamy little trance. He was right there in New York. In the midst of all the shock and excitement of what he’d just done, that significant detail hadn’t even registered in her consciousness.

  Madison nodded. Every cell in her body screamed. Yes! Yes, yes, yes. Of course she was going after him.

  She kicked off her Jimmy Choo shoes and slid into the ballet flats. They were pink, just like the polka dots on the bathrobe that she couldn’t believe Jack remembered when he’d only seen her in it once.

  As she stood and slung her purse over her shoulder, the happy chatter in the break room came to an abrupt end, replaced by an awkward silence. All eyes turned toward the doorway, where Angelica Kent, resplendent in a floral Erdem dress Madison had last seen on Kate Middleton, stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

  “Well, well, I wondered where our entire staff had gone,” she said. “Everyone, get back to work.”

  Felicity and the others scattered in a flurry of clicking heels and a swish of fine fabric, leaving Madison alone in her handmade sweater and flat shoes to deal with Angelica.

  Her boss eyed her from head to toe, and Madison had never missed Mr. Grant and his brown tie so much in her life. “That means you, too, Madison.”

  “I’m sorry, Angelica. Thank you for the opportunity.” Joy like she’d never known filled Madison’s chest. She was going back to Lovestruck—back to Jack and his girls. Back to Alice and Toby and the town where she’d left her heart. Vermont didn’t hate her. It never had, but it had changed her and that was where she belonged. Now and forever. “But I quit.”

  * * *

  One minute, Jack was sitting on the big orange sofa on the Good Morning Sunshine set with a camera in his face, and the next...