by Silla Webb
“Ugh, is dis whys you made the dolphin, Daddy? To twick me! You knew I’d want a cupcake.” Belle huffs as she climbs off the barstool and clambers over to her seat at the dining table.
Jordan throws her head back and laughs as she rounds the counter to follow Belle, and I link my arm around her shoulder to lead the way.
Belle entertains us over dinner, telling stories about her day at preschool. She talks to Jo more than she does me, and I eat it all up, watchin’ their interactions with a full heart. And since Jordan is eating dinner without argument, Belle mimics her actions, even humming appreciatively when her plate is clear.
“Dat sure was yummy, Daddy. Now can I has a cupcake?” Her freckles crinkle behind her smile as she butters me up.
“Sure, while Daddy cleans up the kitchen, you and Jo can have a cupcake.”
Jordan helps me clear the table while Belle climbs up on a barstool at the island and plays Eeny-Meeny-Miny-Moe between vanilla and devil’s food.
I start the dishwasher, then get paper plates out of the cabinet for the cupcakes.
“Since we’re celebrating your victory, you get to choose first.” Jordan shoves the cupcakes closer to me, but I dismiss her with a wave.
“Nah, I’ll pass for right now.”
Jo pokes out her lip in a pout, and I want to nip it, bite it, kiss it, suck it. “Oh come on! One little cupcake ain’t gonna set you back, Mad!”
“Yeah, Daddy. Has a cupcake.”
I get the milk from the fridge and pour Belle and Jordan both a glass. “You better eat up, kiddo. It’s getting close to bedtime.”
“But JoJo is here, Daddy. I can’t stay up a wittle while longer?” Belle pouts.
“Not tonight, Belly.”
“And you’s not eatin’ a cupcake with us?”
It takes everything in me not to devour the sugar-laced deliciousness, but I’m too conscious of everything I put into my body now to have a setback. I might not stop at one.
“Not right now.”
Belle shrugs and chooses a devil’s food cupcake, inhaling deeply before she takes a bite. “Oh well, that’s more for me!” she mutters with frosting coating her lips.
Jordan closes the box and shoves the cupcakes aside, out of sight and out of mind.
After Belle finishes her cupcake, I get her ready for bed. She doesn’t even argue, in a complete sugar coma from her snack. “Can JoJo read me a bedtime story?”
Before I can object, Jo snuggles into bed next to Belle with a book and begins reading to her. I press a kiss on Belle’s forehead and whisper goodnight. I lean against the doorjamb and watch the two of them together, and it shreds at my heart because this is the life Belle is meant to have. Happy with a daddy and a momma instead of me doing it all on my own. But that isn’t her reality. Jordan holds the book in one hand, her fingers delicately brushing the wisps of hair out of Belle’s half-lidded eyes as she reads to my girl. It’s freakin’ precious as all hell. This is what I want for my daughter. For me. But I don’t know how to create this for our family. Wrapped up in my head, I don’t realize Belle is sound asleep until I notice Jordan tiptoeing across the room toward me.
“She’s out like a light.” The look on Jordan’s face completely takes my breath away. She’s happy that she shared that moment with Belle, that my little girl looks up to her and needs her the way Belle does.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Jo studies me for a moment, her chest rising and falling slowly, seemingly caught up in her own mind. Realization that she’s staring at me seems to dawn on her, and she inhales deeply as she sidesteps me. The moment passes between us so quickly I don’t even have time to react.
I peek into Belle’s room to make sure her nightlight is on, and then I pull her door shut.
Turning down the hallway, I find Jordan in the living room snooping through the titles on the bookshelf. “In the mood to read the latest edition of Toolbox?” I joke as I take the corner of the couch, crossing my ankle over my knee.
“Not really.” She trails her fingers across the spine of each book as if she’s looking for something specific; I don’t know what. Until she turns around with my high school yearbook in her hand. “Really. Didn’t realize it was Throwback Thursday, Jo.”
She smirks and sticks her tongue out as she pads across the hardwood toward me. I wish she wouldn’t do that. Make simple gestures that are innocent and friendly that my fucked-up mind twists into something … more, something dirty.
“It’s actually Transformation Tuesday, so I thought we’d take a stroll down memory lane.”
“We really don’t need to do that.” I reach for the yearbook.
“Ah-ah-ah.” She wiggles her finger in my face. Jordan takes the center cushion beside me, and I lay my arm across the back of the couch, eager for her to be close to me. The scent of her perfume assaults my senses, and I hold my breath for just a moment, not to memorize the scent—it’s already embedded in my brain—but to swallow it back and savor it. Regardless of whether Jo’s been in the gym training clients for twelve hours or she’s fresh from a shower, like she is tonight, she always has a sweet scent about her. It comforts me in the weirdest way, and I really can’t put it to words.
But tonight, it’s almost like she went out of her way to show me the other side of her beauty. Her usual knotted ponytail or messy bun is loose around her shoulders, and she’s changed up the tank top and capri leggings for skinny jeans and a long-sleeve sweater. Her usual makeup-free face is just the same, but her eyelashes seem darker, maybe highlighted with mascara, or whatever it is chicks use. She’s absolutely stunning, and I’m struggling even more with her close proximity to keep my hands to myself and our relationship platonic.
“You okay?” She crinkles her nose up and tilts her head to the side as she looks at me.
“Just peachy, darlin’.” I wink without thinkin’. I’m not trying to flirt. Really. I’m not. But Jo seems to like my response because her smile is wide, a sparkle lightin’ up the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
She flips the yearbook open and flips through the pages like she knows exactly what she’s looking for. She stops on a page, her finger softly sliding over each image until she lands on my senior portrait. “Madden Alexander Davenport, Class of 2007. Member of the Who’s Who Among American High School students, member of the Honor Society, Spanish Club, Future Builders of America…”
Jordan reads over my senior bio, jarring memories of the past and the guy I once was. But I haven’t a clue why.
“Shortstop for the Coastal Pirates, and most likely to be remembered as the class clown.” Jordan giggles to herself then side-eyes me as she turns the pages to the sports section, where her finger lands on the regional championship picture. “You were an amazing baseball player. Team couldn’t have won that trophy without you.”
“You’ve been talking to Laney, I see.”
She shakes her head, a knowing smirk proudly on her lips.
“Bottom of the ninth, the bases were loaded with two strikes on the board. Ryan Guilliams, the Tigers’ best switch hitter, was up at bat. He hit a line drive, which you recovered and passed to first base. End of.”
I have no idea how she knows this, but she’s right.
“Murmurs around town were that you’d go off to UGA and play baseball, but you didn’t. You stayed right here on the island and went to work for your dad, helping manage the many projects Davenport Construction was responsible for developing at the time. You got your business degree at Georgia Southern, studying when you weren’t on a job site.”
“Google?” It’s definitely a question, but I state the single word, unsure of where she’s learned so much information about me. Sure, we’ve talked about our lives, quite a bit actually, since I’ve been training with Jordan for the last six months, but I never shared any of the details she’s going over right now.
“Ha, but you’re wrong again, Mad.” Jo sighs and thumbs through the pages, searching the number on the bottom corner as though sh
e knows what she’s looking for. She smooths the page over with her hand and places the yearbook in my lap, leaning her body closer to mine. I suck in a breath, my pulse quickening as her soft hand grazes my thigh. “Recognize anyone?” And as if she’s in my head or can hear my thoughts, she scoots impossibly closer, her head resting against the inside of my bicep.
I’m fuckin’ confused as hell as I scan my eyes over the freshmen class of 2007 page, each face unfamiliar. Random strangers. Well, except that kid. I think Mav shoved him in a locker daily, but that was only because he had the hots for the kid’s older sister. Leave it to Mav to be a dick just to get laid. “I don’t think so.”
“Look closer, Mad. Really look.” Jordan takes my hand in hers and traces each image on the page, stopping near the very end. Her hand is clammy, shaky, and I realize Jordan is … nervous. But why?
Beneath our twisted fingers is the image of a chubby face that is so unrecognizable but familiar all the same. Her hair is braided down the side of her face, her cheeks round and smattered with freckles and a tinge of sunburn. Her smile is small, sad, and distant. The ordinary face of a teenage girl. But it’s in those eyes, tantalizing honey brown eyes, though meek and timid, that I see Jo. I scan my eyes over to the roster and back to the portrait, completely in shock that this knock-out beauty beside me is the same girl in the picture.
I can’t control the muscles in my face when my jaw falls slack, and the words rolling about my mind are lodged in my throat.
“I was the overweight ugly duckling in high school.” Her admission is low, pained, and there’s even a hint of humiliation in her tone. “I told you, Mad, my longest love affair has always been with cupcakes.”
“You knew me in high school?”
“Erin was a year younger than you, and our gram used to make her take me with her anytime she went to ballgames, school events, yada, yada. You were my high school crush, Mad.”
My head is spinnin’ out of control.
“Why didn’t you say something when I first started trainin’ with you at Dumb Belles?”
She shrugs, embarrassed. “What would I have said exactly? I wasn’t even on your radar in school, Mad, bein’ three years behind you; not to mention, my weight then doesn’t define who I am today. Like your weight six months ago doesn’t define who you are.”
Unsure what to do with all this, I turn my attention back to her freshmen yearbook photo realizin’ we really don’t know as much about each other as I’d like. I want to change all that.
“This is why you decided to become a trainer?”
“One of the reasons. I had no idea that was the direction my life would take, certainly not at fourteen when I was already on blood pressure medication and being monitored for pre-diabetes.”
“This doesn’t even look like my Jo…” I mumble more to myself than to her, although she hears me. “You were still beautiful then.”
“High school was difficult. My closest friends were guys who were only interested in sports talk or a smart girl to do their homework. When Erin and Laney weren’t draggin’ me out with them, I was holed up in my bedroom alone watching reruns of Friends and prayin’ I’d have a Monica Geller outcome, all the while stuffing my face with whatever snacks my granny had made that week.” She shrugs, lost in her own thoughts for a moment.
“Erin and I…” She sighs, and I start to tell her she doesn’t have to continue, but she trudges on. “Our grandparents raised us. Mom and Dad had no business having one kid, let alone two. They were never around, and when they were, we always ended up back at Granny and Papaw’s anyway. That was home for us … their house felt like home.” She smiles for a moment as if she’s remembering good things about her childhood. “Man-o-man, my granny was one of the best cooks on the island. She always had some kind of homemade goodie prepared. At some point, I don’t even remember when, I began to associate food with my granny, and Granny was comfort because she was home.” Taking a deep breath, she continues, “Food was how I coped with anything. I didn’t really care about my appearance, and by the time I did start to care I was already a big girl.” I raise my thumb up to her cheek and wipe the tear away, and she offers me a sad smile. “Kids made fun of me because I was obese. By the time I was in a junior in high school, I had managed to drop some pounds but not the healthy way. I tried every fad there was to lose weight quickly. I don’t think that I ever took it seriously until my freshman year of college when my grandpa passed away due to heart disease and diabetes. The doctors told Gran that his weight was a major factor in all his health problems. That scared me straight. I didn’t want to end up like Papaw. I didn’t want to be withdrawn anymore. I wanted to be confident in myself, so I changed my whole lifestyle. Started studying nutrition and worked my ass off to learn all kinds of exercise regimens. It wasn’t until Kyle, my brother-in-law, suggested that I open Dumb Belles that I realized my success.”
“You’ve done awesome, Jo. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.” She smiles bashfully, and I don’t even care that my outburst is embarrassing. Shit, I’d say about anything to make that woman smile. “Fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’. Don’t you see that?”
“Are you sayin’ that because you’re crushin’ on your trainer?” She pushes my shoulder, puttin’ me in the damn friend zone again, and I clasp my hand around her wrist and bring her hand up to my lips, kissin’ the open palm. She sucks in a breath at my contact against her skin.
“I’m sayin’ it because it’s true, Jo.” I lace my fingers around hers and hold her hand against my thigh, intent on explainin’ to her what she means to me. “Crushin’, absolutely. Hell, I’m kickin’ my own ass because I didn’t notice you in high school, but then…” I trail off, unable to say the words out loud. Fate has a weird way of bringin’ your life full circle. Had I noticed Jo all those years ago, I wouldn’t have my little girl. Although life with Casey was brutal hell, we’ve closed that chapter of our lives. Maybe this is mine and Jo’s… “You’re beautiful inside and out, Jo, and although you’re far out of my league, I’m thankful to have you as a friend because you’ve brought my ass a long way; you quite literally saved my life. You treat my little girl like a damn princess, sharing moments with her she’d otherwise have missed out on because her momma ain’t in her life. And you do all of this so selflessly. You’re my damn dream girl, Jo. I’m crazy about you…” The same pink tinge that covered her cheeks that day in the gym when I kissed her has made its return, spreading down the length of her neck. She tilts her head to the side and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, studying me as she absorbs my confession.
“Mad...”
I wave my hand, cutting her off. “Come on, let’s get away from all the heavy. I think I’m ready for a cupcake.” I stand and pull her up with me, keeping her fingers linked with mine as I lead her into the kitchen.
Turning into me, she puts her hands on my chest as she looks up at me under her lashes.
“I like you, Mad. More than I let on because I’ve always been married to my career, to my health, and I’ve never given a relationship any thought. Because I really don’t know—”
I grip her hips and kiss her forehead, unsure of what any of that means. “We’re supposed to be avoidin’ the heavy, remember, darlin’?” I release my grip on her, intent on puttin’ some space between us.
“Yes, you’re right.” Jordan opens the box of cupcakes and places one on a plate. Clapping her hands together, she beams up at me with pride and happiness etched across her features, seeming to have turned her mind off to our previous conversation.
“You and I, we basically switched roles in our lives, Mad. It takes so much hard work and dedication to put yourself first, to get fit and become healthy. But you’re the same guy you were all those years ago. The same shortstop, the same young construction worker climbin’ his way up the ladder in his dad’s company—quite literally. The only difference is now you’re a dad, and you made this transformation for your daughter, to give her all of yourself, and to e
nsure her quality of life wouldn’t be disrupted any further because of your health.
“So, to celebrate your weight loss, seventy-five pounds of Madden Davenport that we will never see again, we’re gonna share a cupcake.”
“Makin’ this so much easier on me, Jo.”
“You owe it to yourself, Mad. Don’t feel guilty,” she encourages. “Besides, I enjoy watchin’ your ass on the elliptical.” She winks as she peels the wrapper off the cupcake and drops it to the plate, pinching the base of it in half. I hesitantly take the piece she offers me, but my gaze never leaves hers. “Like on the elliptical, I’ll count us down. Three, two…” She brings the cupcake up to her mouth and envelops it between her lips with a satisfied groan. And my dick jumps at the sound she makes, her eyes rolling back in her head as the flavor of chocolate bursts on her tongue. “My God, Mad, this is…”
My half of the cupcake hits the counter, and my hands grasp her face, pulling her lips to mine. Jordan chokes on a breath of air as my mouth claims hers, taking her by surprise as I pin her against the wall. I don’t care that she’s my trainer. I don’t care about any fuckin’ self-imposed rules she’s trying to follow. I want her, and I’m gonna fuckin’ have her. I’ve worked my ass off for this moment. I deserve it. I deserve her.
Jordan groans against my lips, her hands slowly sliding up my chest and around my shoulders as she pulls me closer to her. The kiss is heated but sensual, soft but hard. I lick the frosting from her lips and work my mouth down her cheekbone and to her neck. Her chest rises and falls in quick succession as I nip and bite at her sweet flesh. My tongue sweeps across her collarbone, the fabric of her shirt in my way and pissing me off. I don’t even consider asking permission as my fingers find the hem of material, and I break contact with her long enough to rip the shirt over her head.
