by Jess Bentley
“I’m the winner!” she laughs, muffled against my side. I know that she’s close enough to bite me, and if she does, I’m definitely going to take us both into the water. I am only human.
Carefully, strategically, I set her back on her feet and then edge away, watching for signs that she’s going after me again. I am laughing so hard that my sides are stitched, and she looks absolutely resplendent in victory.
“I just needed you to know!” she pants. “I am not a little girl anymore, Jack!”
“Noted!” I agree. “You are… all woman! Your point has been made!”
She straightens up primly, eyebrows raised, pressing her clothes back into order. Man, I have missed her. Such a little elf, yet with such a deep reserve of strength. She surprises me. I wonder how long it has been since I was surprised?
“Whew, suddenly I’m hot!” she sighs, brushing her forehead with the back of her hand. “I wish I brought a swimsuit with me. It didn’t even occur to me that you would have a pool!”
“Uh-huh,” I answer, trying not to imagine her in a swimsuit.
I remember it now. White with black dots. Or black with white dots? I remember that swimsuit. I remember her sitting out in a lounge chair, under a giant hat that was meant to keep those freckles at bay. She always had some friend or another with her, like they were standing guard. I guess that was smart. Like I said, we were perfect gentleman when we were kids, but if pushed too far, any boy can make a spur of the moment decision.
And looking at her now, her brilliant smile, her confidence, her curves… Knowing what I know about women now, she is one of a kind. Absolutely.
“I’m really glad you’re in such a nice place,” she says modestly.
“And you? Are you still in the family house? Oh wait… No, never mind, that’s a stupid question,” I finish awkwardly.
It all sort of comes back to me in a lump, like an anvil landing on the concrete between us. After our parents died on a trip to Las Vegas, caught in a cloudburst that washed out the road and their car with it, we discovered the estate was not much better than broke. There wasn’t a lot left after we sold the house and paid for the funerals. Chance and I got swept up in business, working long hours and probably burying our emotions in the tech world. We knew that Chelsea went to live in the dorms at Northwestern University, but I don’t remember ever making an effort to visit her. It seemed like there would always be time, like “maybe next month” became a permanent situation. And then I guess we fell out of touch.
“Yeah, but… I do still live in Evanston,” she remarks breezily, carrying the conversation past the awkward bit.
“Oh, that’s nice. And I guess you got your degree?”
She nods, her hair brushing the tops of her pink cheeks. Shrugging, she drops into a deck chair, crossing her legs casually. I can’t help but notice that her skirt rides up over her knees, revealing tanned, muscular thighs, right out of a memory.
“I’ve got a degree in education with a certification in early childhood,” she shrugs, but then her eyes dart away. “But for now I work in a coffee shop. Well, it’s my boyfriend’s coffee shop. Well, I guess he’s my boyfriend. Anyway, it’s his coffee shop.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask gently, though I am fairly certain the answer is no.
“Is anybody really enjoying themselves?” she counters cleverly.
I can see it in her eyes—the disappointment. The dreams that kind of pile up at some arbitrary starting gate, never daring to move past it, but still stalled. I’ve seen it thousands of times. It sounds like a particular kind of hell.
“You probably should’ve gotten some of what we got,” I answer, instantly sort of ashamed at how true that is. “I mean… some of this. Some of this house. Some of the tech company.”
“No, no, that’s all right,” she says in a hurry, her hands raised defensively. “You guys built it. You earned it. It’s yours.”
“Yeah, but you are family,” I shrug awkwardly.
Her eyes go shaded as she glances away. She’s proud, always has been. She doesn’t ask for much. Not even if it is an emergency. If I’m going to give her any of this, I am going to have to do it on the sly.
My phone goes off suddenly, and I look up at her with a grin until she smiles back.
“Looks like Chance is home,” I inform her, waving my phone with the security alert that someone has breached the front drive checkpoint. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”
Chapter 7
Chance
As soon as I walk through the front door, this sensation of nostalgia hits me like a ton of bricks. Jack is grinning at me with Chelsea standing right next to him. They both look like I’ve interrupted the conversation in progress, like they are waiting for me to catch up. Like there is a joke or a punchline that’s about to land.
This is how it always seemed to feel, or that is how I remember it, anyway. This feeling of pleasant anticipation. This feeling of comfort, of being in the one place where everything was all right. Maybe even better than all right.
But before I say anything, I hear a yelp from the other side of the house. Jack raises his eyebrows and claps his palms together.
“That’s right! Sounds like the boys are up from their nap!” he announces happily. “Chelsea? Would you like to meet our little princes?”
“Heck, yes!” she grins. “Lead the way!”
They head off down the hallway toward the boys’ bedroom and I find myself wanting to hang back just a few steps. I love watching this. I love watching how at ease Jack is, which I now realize I haven’t seen in such a long time. Not to mention, checking out the little differences in Chelsea is fascinating.
Her hair is so long and thick, swaying back and forth as she drifts gracefully down the hallway. It gleams with health. She seems just as strong as ever, with that compact, sporty physique. A dancer’s body, I always thought. She spent endless hours in tap and ballet lessons, though she would only rarely demonstrate her skills. For some reason she seemed to find it kind of embarrassing to show off. Or maybe she sensed that I was a little too eager to sit on the sofa and watch her do arabesque after arabesque. Yeah, come to think of it, that was probably a little too obvious.
But for just a few seconds, I’ll allow myself to watch her hips swaying underneath her skirt as she walks. Her attention is elsewhere, and I think I get away with it.
Because, damn, that’s quite a woman. I knew she would be, but seeing it in person, right here my own home… It’s a little much. I’m going to have to be very careful.
That’s the thing. There have been a reasonable amount of women in my life, but they never really tripped me up like this. They never fascinated me, I guess is the word. Chelsea has always fascinated me. I’ve always wanted to watch her, to drink in her details. Every gesture, every offhanded thing that she would say. She’s a puzzle that I never tired of trying to solve.
The door to the boys’ bedroom swings inward and Chelsea pauses in the hallway, briefly framed by a halo of silvery light. I watch her profile as her expression changes to unabashed delight. She claps her hands swiftly under her chin and then plunges into the room, cooing in a series of feminine, unintelligible murmurs.
Jack shoots me a glance. His eyebrows go up. “Right?” is all he says to me before he goes into the room after her.
But I know exactly what he means. Isn’t this easy? Isn’t this great? Isn’t this just… correct?
It takes me a few seconds to get out of the hall, mostly because I have to convince myself that I can handle seeing what I know I’m going to see. And there it is: my son in Chelsea’s arms as she smiles at him, his chubby hands reaching out to cup her face. Jack carries Ned closer to her to so he can also reach out. The boys are smitten, instantaneously.
They have excellent taste.
“I think I’ll go get dinner started,” I say to practically no one.
No one’s paying attention to me as I edge out of the room, heading back down th
e hallway with little bit of vertigo or something. This is quite a lot. It’s stirring up things I haven’t thought about in a long time. Not bad things, but I can use a little breathing room.
Dinner comes together quickly. Lately the boys have been eating pretty well, even venturing into vegetables that they previously didn’t seem to enjoy. Still, I make sure to incorporate some blander flavors, like sautéed chicken breast and jasmine rice. They haven’t quite mastered forks, but they do pretty well. This should be a satisfying dinner for them.
For the adults, I whip up a garlic and red pepper sauce, plus a rainbow array of peppers and squash. If I remember correctly, Chelsea is not a big fan of tomatoes, which is a pity. I wonder if that still applies.
Ned and Matthew come running into the great room, hobbling dramatically on their bowed, comical legs. Jack and Chelsea follow right after, pretending to chase them while the boys giggle and pretend to be alarmed. It’s a beautiful sight, and I can’t help but laugh as Ned and Matthew circle the sofa, with Chelsea prowling behind.
She crouches down low, holding her skirt up over her knees as she chases them, coming tantalizingly close but never really overtaking them. Ned howls with joy and excitement. Matthew, sensing that his cousin is gathering just a percentage point more of the available attention, throws himself to the floor strategically in front of her, allowing her to “capture” him.
“Aha! I got you!” she gasps, shaking his little feet in her hand. I note that she doesn’t go right for tickling or too much contact. Most people aren’t this cautious. I appreciate that she’s testing his limits, making sure that he is safe and happy and all moments. You never know when a child will suddenly become shy, and I can see that she is aware of that.
“Dinner is almost ready!” I announce in a loud voice.
The boys smile up at me obediently. Ned raises a hand to wave his fingers at me and I wave back. Though they are still so small, I can tell that they are going to be good boys. Respectful, obedient, with just enough naughtiness that it’s going to be a fun challenge to raise them.
“All right, you two,” Jack says in his official voice. “Let’s go wash our hands, okay? Follow me.”
The boys trot behind Jack as he leads them toward the powder room to wash their hands. I can tell they are a little bit tired from the roughhousing, but they still know when it is time to stop playing and get serious.
“They are so cute!” Chelsea breathes, her eyes bright with happiness.
I try to make sure that I’m not beaming too hard. It would be hard to explain how happy all this simple family time made me.
“You’re really good with them,” I observe. “They seem to really like you.”
“I really like them too,” she shrugs. “It makes it easy.”
“They don’t always warm up to everybody right away. I’m glad to see you guys connected right off the bat.”
She smiles, shrugging one shoulder as she glances to the far end of the room, obviously waiting for them to come back.
“Can I help? Can I set the table or something?”
“Seriously? Hell yes you can help. And when Jack comes back in the room, make sure you tell him that you offered. Probably blow his mind to find out that is a thing that human beings do.”
“Okay!” She laughs as she sways around the kitchen island, reaching to the tall cabinets to find everything she needs. I know I could give her more instruction, but it’s fun to watch her figure it out, poking through every drawer as she gathers the plates, silverware, glasses.
“Hey, that smells good!” Jack calls out when he comes back with the boys. “Let’s get some of that good Chardonnay, don’t you think?”
He pulls out the booster seats and gets Ned and Matthew situated and strapped in, and I watch Chelsea glance at him from time to time, her eyes dancing with mirth. I bet it does look kind of funny to her too, to see us with the kids. But she doesn’t make any snarky comments about masculinity or anything, which is a relief. I really don’t think anybody could challenge my masculinity, but some people are just really opinionated about what men can and can’t do with their own kids. Jack and I chose to be hands-on fathers. Every once in a while we will get some pushback about that.
Then again, who cares what people think?
“Okay, this is delicious!” Chelsea sighs, happily crunching a red pepper dripping with sauce.
Next to her, Jack shrugs like he had anything to do with it. “What, did you think we were living on Lean Cuisine and pizza delivery?”
“No, of course not,” she rolls her eyes, absentmindedly picking up Ned’s napkin and sliding it under the corner of his plate before he even has the time to grunt about it.
“Jack would totally be eating Lean Cuisine and pizza delivery if I weren’t here,” I remark, setting the record straight. “Don’t let him fool you; that guy would happily eat Doritos twice a day.”
“Jeez! I’m trying to impress the girl!” Jack objects, dramatically affronted. “You don’t have to call me out for everything, you know.”
I shrug. “Chelsea knows just about everything about us, remember? I’m sure the Doritos are not a big surprise.”
She takes a sip of her wine, pursing her lips innocently. “Yeah… I know about the Reese’s peanut butter cups too.”
Jack groans dramatically. “Oh… Yeah! Those are my weakness.”
“One of many weaknesses,” I add helpfully.
Chelsea smiles, her cheeks dimpling sweetly. I watch her eyes flicker between us and then to the boys.
“This is nice,” she announces, and I can hear her meaning in her voice.
“Totally agree,” Jack smiles, leaning over to nudge her shoulder with his shoulder.
She nudges him back, and I suddenly wish I were sitting a little closer.
After dinner we clean up quickly, while Jack sits on the floor with the boys, erecting his customary tower of wooden blocks for them to drop through Godzilla-style, laughing at the devastation as well as the theatrical displays of horror that Jack puts on for them.
Seems like he can do this for hours, but the boys are pretty tuckered out from an afternoon of excitement. Too soon, it seems that they are yawning and rubbing their eyes, a clear sign that bedtime is approaching.
Ned decides that instead of taking another swipe at the wooden blocks, he’d rather curl up on Jack’s lap. Jack kisses the top of his head as he assembles another skyscraper for Matthew, who goes after it with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“Okay, boys,” Jack announces fondly. “Let’s put these all away okay? Sounds like bedtime.”
Chelsea sits on the sofa, her hands pressed between her knees as she watches every part of our nightly ritual. Her hair flows over one shoulder as she smiles. With the dishes in the dishwasher and the machine softly humming, I edge in next to her, crossing my feet on the coffee table, leaning back to watch the last few seconds of Jack’s bedtime process.
“Okay, kisses,” Jack tells the boys and they obediently climb the sofa, grabbing my neck for their nightly squeeze. To my surprise, they each offer Chelsea a kiss as well, which she happily accepts.
When they leave the room, we settle back on the sofa. I drape my arm over the back and she automatically slides in next to me, fitting her body along mine just like we used to do, watching movies until three or four in the morning.
I don’t want to disturb her, but I am very aware of how close she is right now. Of course, this was our habit. It’s not strange at all.
“Excellent!” Jack says when he comes back in the room. “Movie time?”
“Sure!” she answers immediately.
Jack practically falls into place, dragging a blanket over the three of us, just like old times. Chelsea giggles and snuggles deeper, wriggling like a baby rabbit in a nest.
“Superhero movie? Horror? Um… I think I have the new Avengers movie. Is Thor still your favorite?”
“He’s my secret boyfriend,” she nods avidly. “I’m not supposed to tell.”
“I could take him,” Jack sniffs, extending his arm with the remote and flexing obviously.
“Secret boyfriend?” I have to ask, instantly breaking my promise to try to keep a lid on the boiling urge to get closer to her. “Like, so secret that he doesn’t even know?”
“Hey!” She giggles, twisting to nudge me gently in the ribs.
I flinch automatically, suddenly remembering that she makes me ticklish. I don’t want to be tickled right now. Not like that, anyway.
But instead, she twists around, half lying on me so she gets her face even with mine. My hands automatically close over the width of her hips as she gets into position, maybe because she thinks she’s going to say something smart, some jokey challenge.
But that’s not what’s going to happen. With her body lying over my body, her hair in silky tendrils teasing the skin of my jaw, her sweet open lips just inches away…
I hold her hips in my hand, angling her toward me, and before she can speak, I kiss her. My lips cover hers, drowning out her words, tasting her sweet breath and finally feeling those velvety, plush lips as they crush into mine.
To my surprise, she kisses me back.
Chapter 8
Chelsea
This is what I always wondered about.
I don’t know when I decided it, but sometime this afternoon I knew exactly how the rest of the day would go. I knew that it would become pointless to pretend anymore. Pointless to resist. I wasn’t going to be strong enough.
And I suppose it was maybe when Jack started building those towers out of blocks for Ned and Matthew to tromp through, Godzilla style, that I knew exactly what I wanted.
Him. Chance. Both of them.
My heart has been beating so fast all through dinner. I knew the moment was coming. I just didn’t know exactly when. And then Chance sat on the sofa next to me, thrillingly close. I could feel the rock-hard thigh muscles against mine as he slid to the back, and I automatically rolled up next to him. He put his arm around me, and I let him.
