by Olivia Miles
“Like teeth!” Sophie cried. “I can’t wait to tell all the kids about my tooth.”
Jane gave a tired smile. “Teeth don’t just fall out, Sophie. They have to get loose first. Your time will come.”
“She wants to fit in with the other kids,” Henry remarked. “I used to feel that way, too. Especially when there was a lot going on at home.”
Jane frowned, feeling sad to think of Sophie just wanting to be like other kids. It was probably why she wanted Henry to join them for dinner: to have some semblance of a full family life again. Some of the older kids at the school came from divorced families, but off the top of her head, Jane couldn’t think of any in the kindergarten class.
When had the dream turned into reality? She suddenly felt like she’d failed as a mother.
Sophie chattered all the way home, until Jane finally rounded the car into their driveway. In the backseat, Sophie held the apple core in one hand, a small piece of fruit in the other. “See? My tooth!”
Maybe it was the drive, or maybe it was the stress of everything else coming down on her, but Jane’s patience was shot. “Sophie, I told you that I don’t like you eating in the car, and I definitely don’t like you playing with your food. Now eat that piece of apple, please.”
“But Mommy—”
“Eat it, please,” she repeated.
“But Mommy—”
Jane stared at the tiny white piece of apple. “Eat it now, Sophie. And I’m not going to say it again.”
“But Mommy, it’s my tooth!” Sophie burst into tears, and that’s when Jane saw it. The small gap where Sophie’s lower front tooth used to be.
She screamed, then clasped a hand to her mouth, biting down on the inside of her knuckles.
“You weren’t joking!” Sophie shook her head and Jane took the tiny tooth from her daughter’s hand. “Oh my goodness, honey, I’m sorry. I thought this was a piece of apple!”
Sophie started giggling through her tears and Jane felt her own eyes began to prickle. She could still remember when this little tooth had popped through, just six months into Sophie’s life. Now it was resting in her palm, its time served. Where had the years gone?
She suddenly felt Henry’s gaze on her. His eyes were wide, but his lips twitched.
“You must think I’m crazy,” she muttered.
He glanced from crying child to tearful mother and shook his head, but a small smile played at his lips. “I think you both are.”
“You know what this means?” Jane said excitedly to Sophie. “The tooth fairy is coming tonight!”
“She is?” Sophie’s eyes lit up as she wiggled to get out of her car seat.
Jane laughed and released the clasp, then climbed out of the car. She poked her head back in and met Henry’s eyes. “You coming?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Henry replied.
CHAPTER
21
Henry watched as Jane spread a thin layer of children’s glue over a dollar bill and sprinkled it with pink glitter. Her fine brow fixed in concentration, she waved it in the air a bit, tapped a finger over the surface, and then, satisfied that it was dry, tucked it into a drawstring jewelry bag.
“Ready?” she asked, grinning.
Henry startled. The loss of Sophie’s first tooth was clearly a big event. Big enough to warrant screams and tears and a huge bowl of ice cream for dessert. Big enough to call for three bedtime stories instead of two and a special nightgown Jane quietly admitted she had been saving for Christmas, having purchased it on sale just last week. He hadn’t assumed he’d be a part of the ritual, and he wasn’t really sure he should be. Sophie was Jane’s daughter. Jane’s and Adam’s, and he was just a bystander. A role he’d played far too often in life.
Jane was already walking down the hall toward the staircase, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, following her uncertainly. The front door was just ahead and he had a sudden thought to walk right out it. He should go, now, before it was too late, before he became more entrenched in Jane’s life than he should be. It was too easy to be lured in by the domestic bliss, to imagine how simple, easy, and fulfilling life could be.
The longer he stayed the more he hated the thought of leaving, returning to his empty hotel bed, eventually moving on to an equally quiet hotel room, and then another. Travel was meant to be shared, and he told himself he was the one sharing it through his words and photos and experiences. Who was he kidding? Not himself. Not anymore.
The first step creaked under Jane’s foot and she froze, wincing as she craned her neck in the direction of Sophie’s room at the far end of the upstairs hall. Henry realized he was holding his breath, not moving, getting far too invested in this little game than he had any right to.
But damn it if it wasn’t sort of fun.
“She’s still asleep,” Jane whispered, taking the next step.
Henry nodded and crept close behind, allowing himself one sweeping glance at Jane’s tight waist, the soft flare of her hips. His heart was beginning to pound as they neared the top hallway and approached the open door. Sophie had been so excited she could barely eat her dinner, and she’d insisted he help her search every toy box and drawer until she found her sparkly pink pen, which she used to write the tooth fairy a note, under his tutelage. Now, Jane carefully pulled it out from under Sophie’s pillow, along with the tiny ring box containing her tooth. It read: Dear Tooth Fairy, Please take good care of my tooth. I might want it back someday.
Sophie barely stirred as Jane slid the jewelry bag containing the glittery dollar bill under the pillow, but just as Jane was pulling her hand out, Sophie rolled over, causing Jane, then Henry, to drop to the floor.
Her eyes were wide when they met his, and they stared at each other, both breathing heavily. Jane pressed a finger to her lips with the hand that wasn’t still wedged under the pillow. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the parted curtains, casting shadows on Jane’s face, bringing out the sparkle of her eyes.
He had a sudden urge to lean over and kiss her, to taste her sweet lips, run his hands through her hair, hear his name on her breath. He swallowed hard, easing the tightness in his groin.
Jane pulled her hand free from the pillow and grabbed his arm. “Run!” she whispered, yanking him toward the door by his shirtsleeve. They dashed to it like a pair of robbers fleeing the scene of a crime, down the hall, and straight down the steps. By the time they hit the first floor, they were laughing so hard his ribs hurt.
“I bet you never knew parenting could be so much fun,” Jane chided as they walked back into the kitchen. She opened a drawer and set the box containing Sophie’s tooth inside.
Henry wasn’t sure whether to be alarmed or touched by the gesture. He half wondered if she’d throw it out. That’s probably what his mother had done.
But then, the tooth fairy had never visited his house.
He leaned against the counter. “For some, I suppose. You’re an excellent mother, Jane.”
She dropped her gaze, and her lashes fluttered softly. “Thanks. I just hope the judge agrees.”
He hated the defeat in her tone.
“How can he argue with a glittering dollar bill?” Henry said lightly, but his chest pulled tight when he saw the strain in Jane’s smile.
“I’m just so thankful this happened tonight and not on a night she was with Adam. If I had missed this…” She shook her head. “I would have been crushed.” She let out a long sigh, suddenly looking tired. “That’s the hardest part of all this. It’s not about not being with Adam. It’s about missing out on special things with Sophie. I’m already dreading the holidays. I’ve been dreading them since last year. Thanksgiving and Christmas used to feel so magical; now I just wish they didn’t exist at all.”
He felt the same way, for different reasons.
“You know, there was a time when I thought I could stay married to Adam, even though I was unhappy and even though I knew he was…” She met his gaze. Cheating on her, the bastard. “I didn’t
want Sophie to be shuffled across town, split between her parents. I thought I could keep us together, for her sake. Maybe for mine, too.” She shrugged. “Eventually, I had to speak up.”
This surprised him. All along, he’d assumed Adam had left Jane. He searched her face, noting the resilience in her eyes, the calm smile on her lips. She wasn’t the same girl he’d once watched glide down the aisle on her father’s arm. She was strong, and maybe even a little jaded. She’d get through this.
He hoped so, at least.
Someday he hoped to come to terms with his own divorce. For now, it was easier to shove it in a box and forget about it. Eventually, though, the truth came out, didn’t it? No amount of hiding from the past could deny its existence, the part of you it claimed.
“Well, it was all worth it for one reason and one reason only.” Jane smiled. “Sophie.”
Henry gritted his teeth, frowning hard. He’d never experienced that kind of relationship with a parent, and he would have done anything to have it. “Do you really think they could take Sophie from you? You’re her mother.”
“And Adam’s her father.” Jane looked so sad and fragile that Henry kicked himself for saying anything at all. He wanted to stand up, put his arms around her, and tell her it was all going to work out. But he couldn’t promise that. No one could.
He balled a fist, thinking of Adam. Of course he’d want to be close to his daughter, but at what price? It was selfish, and downright cruel. But hadn’t Adam always put himself first when it came to Jane? he thought, thinking back on the scholarship she’d given up for him.
Jane deserved a man who showed her kindness, who appreciated her strengths and rewarded her for them, not punished her. She deserved someone who was here every day, wanting the simple joys of family life that Jane so clearly treasured.
Adam wasn’t that man.
Henry ran a hand over his tense jaw. He wasn’t either.
Jane opened the fridge and peered inside. “Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Wine? We might have some beer in here.”
“Coffee will be great,” he said easily.
Jane frowned but said nothing as she started a pot. He forced a breath, telling himself to calm down and not take it to heart, but he couldn’t fight the part of him that hated the stigma in this town, the one he couldn’t ever seem to shed, no matter how many years he’d been gone.
“I never drink,” he offered. His voice was loud and assertive, as if confessing to something he’d been keeping a secret for a very long time. “I saw firsthand what alcohol could do to a person.” Henry ran a hand over his jaw. Even the smell of the stuff made him feel like he was ten years old again, and he didn’t want to go back to that place.
“I’ve seen Ivy with an occasional glass of wine—”
“She shouldn’t.” The words were barked out with such intensity that Jane was startled. Henry held up a hand. “Sorry. I just… I’m sensitive about this, as you can tell. Even though I knew my mom had problems, she was still my mother, and the only parent I ever knew. I hated the things people would say.”
“In these small towns, it’s hard not to be the subject of gossip at some point or another. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t told anyone about the custody situation.”
Henry frowned. “Not even your family?”
Jane shook her head, and Henry leaned in over the kitchen island, suddenly wishing he was standing closer. She was wearing another soft sweater, but one that scooped down, revealing her collarbone. She was so pretty, so welcoming, so—
He cleared his throat. “But you’re so close to your family.”
“Exactly,” Jane said. She scooped the coffee grounds into the filter and turned to him. “Grace is getting married in a few weeks, and Anna’s busy with her new restaurant. Why burden anyone with my problems?”
Henry thought of his sister. Was this the way Ivy felt, too? Why she had waited so long to turn to him?
“Believe me when I say they’d want to know. They’d want to be there for you, Jane.”
Jane shook her head with force. “No. I’ll handle this on my own. They can’t change the outcome anyway.”
Her hair slipped down over her face, and Henry reached up and brushed it back. Catching her eye, he dropped his hand quickly.
“The coffee’s ready,” Jane said, reddening. Her back to him, she flung open a cabinet and grabbed two mugs. Their drinks in hand, he followed her into the living room, happy for the change of scenery. Things were getting too cozy in there, and here he could keep his distance.
He eyed the armchair where he’d slept just a week ago. He should sit there, keep a safe distance. Instead, he settled next to her on the couch.
On the end table was yet another picture of Sophie, this one taken on what appeared to be her first birthday.
“Did you and Adam ever discuss having more children?” Henry asked, and then regretted his words when Jane’s brow creased. She blew on her coffee and sipped from her mug.
“Not really. Adam and I didn’t talk about much. I was so in love with him when I was younger, I didn’t stop to notice how different we were. Adam likes his freedom. He liked things on his terms.”
“And taking the scholarship to the dance academy would have messed with his plans.” Henry scowled.
Jane met his eye. “Exactly. He wanted to get married and go out and live his life and have a nice sweet woman who sat back and took care of him, no doubt the way his mother did.”
Henry stiffened at the mention of Patty. He owed her a phone call. He owed her so much more than that.
“And what did you want?” Henry asked.
Jane blinked and stared at the fireplace before sliding him a strange smile. “Do you know, I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me that. It’s been so long since I’ve stopped to think of myself, I don’t even know how to respond.” She paused. “All I want is to keep my daughter with me. That’s the only thing that’s important.”
“Do you want to remarry?”
Jane arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Henry pulled back against the throw pillows. “Touché,” he said, when what he was really thinking was, Hell, no. He’d meant it when he told her he wasn’t marriage material.
His mouth thinned. Wasn’t family material either.
He suddenly felt prickly and out of place in this carefully decorated living room with the framed photos above the mantel and the baskets of toys in the corner. Jane deserved a man who wanted all this, a man who would come home at the end of the day and pick up the dolls and tuck Sophie into bed, and help Jane with the dinner dishes.
And that wasn’t him. As much as he wished it could be, it wasn’t.
He’d tried the family thing. Twice. And both times it had ended in disaster.
He set his mug on a coaster and rested his elbows heavily on his knees. He should go. Now. Before he did anything stupid.
He slid her a glance, noticing the way her full lips parted, her gaze steady, her lashes fluttering softly. A lock of hair slipped over her cheek, and without thinking, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear.
She gave a hesitant smile, her eyes widening slightly as his hand grazed down her neck, his thumb tracing her delicate collarbone, trailing over to her shoulder. Her skin was soft and warm, her breath shallow, and her eyes searching. He lowered his gaze to her mouth, unable to hold back or fight this urge that had built for so long, and brought his lips to hers. He kissed her lightly, once, pausing for her to return the gesture, to show him this was all right, even though he knew it wasn’t, even though he didn’t want to stop anyway. She smelled like apples and honey, and her hair was so silky, her lips so tender. He tried once more. Hesitantly, she kissed him back, and his groin stirred with desire as he reached his arm around her waist, pulling her close, feeling her breasts against his chest and her hair in his face, lacing it through his fingers, tangled in his palm. He laced her tongue, tasting her mouth and breathing her air, wanting this moment to continue t
o forever.
Suddenly, Jane pulled back. “Sophie.”
Henry felt a wash of shame. “Right. She might walk in—”
“No, she’s calling out for me.” Jane was quick on her feet, hurrying to the base of the stairs. “She never calls out.”
Sure enough, he heard the cries, too, the ear-piercing screeches. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” And there was Jane, on her feet, up the stairs, dropping everything. Even their kiss.
And damn it if that didn’t make him want her even more.
“Mommy, mommy, the tooth fairy came! The tooth fairy came!” Sophie was running down the hall, meeting Jane at the top of the stairs, jumping up and down and showing off her glittering bill. “And she took my tooth! And she left me money!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart! But it’s time to go back to bed, now.”
“Can you sing me a song?” Sophie asked.
“Of course—”
“No. Him.” Sophie pointed right at Henry, and he felt his stomach uncoil.
“Oh. Um.” He turned to Jane for help, but she just shrugged. “Well, okay then.”
He walked up the stairs more slowly, past Jane and that funny smirk on her face, and followed Sophie into her room. Ivy would have loved a room like this when she was little, he thought, taking in the pink billowy covers and the matching ruffled curtains. A pretty little dollhouse was wedged in the corner, along with a small round table containing a tea set.
“Go on. I’m listening,” Sophie said once she was tucked in to bed. She stared up at him, her eyes narrowing. “Sing me a lullaby.”
Henry tried to think of a children’s song and came up blank. His grandmother had sung to him as a child, but that was so long ago, the best he could do was hum the tune. He looked around the room for inspiration, trying to think of something that would meet a little girl’s approval and finally did his very best version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” Sophie listened patiently through the entire thing, her little mouth curving into a pleased smile, but when he finally reached the end at long last, she said, “That’s not really a bedtime song, but I enjoyed it anyway.”
