by BK Rivers
I try to laugh it off, play it like I’ve got this. The truth is I’m terrified of living on my own. I’ve been able to rely on Stacey whenever I’ve needed her, and her moving out feels like a divorce. I’m going to officially be a single parent, and I don’t have any idea how to do that.
“You know Micah and I will be fine,” I say, lying through my teeth. I know she needs to do this; technically we both need this. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.
We work together to finish the last of her packing as the boys come into her room and lug the boxes to the U-Haul. When the last of her things are loaded, I stare at her empty room with fondness. So many nights that ended with sleepovers, like we were still teenagers.
“Ready?” Stacey says, pulling me into a hug. I nod and follow her down the stairs, where I find Micah sitting in the middle of the seat in the U-Haul cab. Even though he won’t talk to me because he thinks it’s my fault she’s leaving, he still wants to be a part of Stacey’s big move. He loves her just as much as I do, and I know this is just as hard on him as it is me.
James’s friends, Drew and Harley, slide into the truck, sitting on either side of Micah, and start up the engine. James is driving Stacey’s car, and she’s riding with me to her new place. When we arrive, the look on Stacey’s face is pure joy. I do my best to mimic her excitement as I follow her to her new apartment. The guys begin unloading boxes and stacking them in the second bedroom. While they are unloading, Stacey and I clean the kitchen, readying for her things. An hour into unloading, there’s a knock on the door, followed by a distinct “Hello?” that makes my stomach drop.
I peek around the door to see Jordan holding a stack of pizza boxes, and he’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a vintage, gray Pearl Jam t-shirt. He smiles as he walks into the apartment, leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek, and sets the pizzas on the counter.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.
“I brought pizza,” he says with a killer smirk that makes my lady parts swoon. Not that there will be any swooning in the near future. I’m mad at him for ignoring me for so long.
“I can see that,” I say, tossing the wet dishrag into the sink. “But why are you here?”
“Stacey mentioned everyone would be hungry after moving her things when I talked to her yesterday, so I decided to show up. With food.” He talked to her and not me? Why? He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, looking as good as ever. Which doesn’t make seeing him here any easier.
“But why now? You haven’t bothered to call or to stop by since L.A. Why is that?”
He shrugs as a smile tugs at his lips. “Missed me, did you?”
Groaning in frustration, I grab the four boxes of pizza and look around Stacey’s kitchen for somewhere to put them. Obviously, where Jordan set them is perfectly fine, but it feels like he’s won whatever this is and had the last word. I place them about six inches to the right of where they were, breeze past him, and call out from the living room that food is here. Within seconds, the three guys are barreling toward me with Stacey in tow.
I push past the guys and Jordan, and a hand clasps around my elbow, pulling me into Jordan’s chest. He smells so good, like heat and musk and hot summer nights. “I didn’t get back to Phoenix until last night,” he says, brushing his lips against my cheek.
“And you didn’t think to call me while you extended your stay in L.A.?” His hands glide down my sides, stopping at the top of my jeans. He slides his fingers through my belt loops and pulls me closer.
“I had some things I needed to take care of before I came back to you and Micah. Now that they’re done, I’m back and can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you and our son.”
Yes, I still melt when I hear him refer to Micah this way, and I think I always will. But I can’t live in a melty kind of world; I need to live in the real world where the man I love is here to stay. I won’t let him come in and out of our lives, because it’s too hard. Thinking about him constantly traveling, only coming home to me and Micah every few months, hurts like a spoon digging through my chest, trying to find my heart.
“Jordan, you can’t just waltz into my life whenever you want. There’s too much at stake, and it’ll only end up hurting all three of us in the end.” I pull away from the warmth of his body and return to the sink for the dishrag. I need to finish cleaning up the kitchen.
“So, you’re going to push me away before we even try to be a family? Before you hear me out?” Jordan steels his gaze, and it shoots through me like a harpoon. It cuts deep, anchoring us together, making it impossible to truly let him go.
“I want you to choose us, Jordan,” I say with a whimper. “I want all-inclusive love, and for you to hold me each and every night and never let me go. I want you to tuck our son in at night, tell him you love him and will always be here with us. I want you now and forever.” My cheeks burn at how selfish I sound, but I need to be honest with him. He needs to know exactly what I want, because I’m not willing to compromise any longer. “Can you do that, Jordan? Can you be all in with me?”
His shoulders are shaking, and he’s slowly moving his head side to side. He’s smiling, holding back a laugh.
“You’re laughing?” I say incredulously. “What part of what I said do you find humorous, exactly?” My defenses are raised and I fold my arms across my chest.
“Bug,” he says as he closes the short distance between us. “I’m all in. Have been since the day I told you I love you.” Jordan’s hands come to rest on my shoulders, and his thumbs traces lines up and down the sides of my throat. His touch sends sparks pinging through my body.
“But what does that mean? I need to know.” Men are so hard to decipher. I just want him to tell me everything I want to hear.
“It means I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you and Micah happy.” His arms engulf me in a firm embrace, and I settle against his chest. This is home, this is comfort, right where my heart belongs—in the capable hands of Jordan Capshaw.
We spend the rest of the afternoon helping Stacey unpack and settle in, and then Jordan follows me and Micah back to my apartment. Micah crashes the minute he’s buckled in the backseat, and I’m more than wiped out myself. Jordan carries our boy to bed, tucks him in, and walks me to my bedroom. He pulls off my shirt, pops the button of my jeans, and slowly slides them off my legs. He presses a warm kiss to my forehead and then steps back, admiring my state of undress. His eyes rake over me, making my entire body light on fire with want.
His lips turn up into a crooked smile as he leaves the room. I stand in the middle of the bedroom in my bra and panties, wondering why he disappeared. From the bathroom I hear the water turn on in the tub and the rustling noises of him searching my cabinets. Moment later, he returns, his eyes still roving over my body.
“Go relax in the bathtub,” he says with another soft kiss to my forehead. “You’ve had a stressful day, and you’re exhausted. Let me take care of you tonight.” He guides me out of my room and into the bathroom, where he watches hungrily as I slip off my panties and unclip my bra, letting it slip to the floor. His Adam’s apple bobs, and it makes me feel amazing knowing this man still wants me after all these years apart. That even after having his child, he still finds me desirable. And I want him just as much.
***
I feel like I have a hangover from hell. My insides have all but twisted inside out and are crawling their way out of my throat. I haven’t been sick like this in years. Poor Micah has been stuck in front of the TV for two days since I can hardly get out of bed.
“Mom?” he cries from the living room. “Mom!”
I can barely move, but when my boy needs me, I have to go to him. Groaning, I manage to slip out of bed and stumble down the hallway. Micah is huddled up on the couch with two blankets wrapped around his little body.
“Are you sick, buddy?” I ask and run my hand over his forehe
ad. He’s burning up, leaving no doubt he’s got what I have—the flu. Shit. I can’t call Stacey to come stay with us, because she’s working, and my parents are too far away, not that I want them to be here right now. We’re on our own, I guess.
We sit together on the couch, watching Spongebob Squarepants until late in the night. I’ve drifted off to sleep, only to be woken up by Micah groaning and holding his stomach. He belches, and with it comes a spray of vomit that lands on the carpet in front of him. I didn’t even have time to grab him a bucket. I glance at the clock. It’s almost 2 a.m., and I don’t know what else to do but call Jordan. I need help, and I need it now.
After the second time I call, he answers. “Hello?” His voice is gravelly and full of late night grogginess.
“We’re sick with the plague, and I need you,” is all I say before I hang up and try to figure out where to begin cleaning up the mess in the living room. If he really wants us, then this is what he’s going to get.
Chapter 37
Jordan
Reggie answers the door wearing a stained tank top and a pair of old, red plaid boxers. Her hair is matted to her head, and she holds a tissue to her nose. In her other hand she’s gripping a rag and a spray bottle of some kind, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest with the urge to embrace her. Damn, she’s a mess, but she’s beautiful despite being sick.
“This is it,” she says, though it comes out as more of a sob. “You want this? I’ve got puke to clean up in the living room. I smell like ass, look like I’ve been run over by a truck hauling manure, and I feel like death.” She gestures to her body, her house, and then her head falls to her chest as though she’s calling it quits.
“My life isn’t glamorous, and shit hits the fan when I get sick.” A laugh bubbles from her throat as she glances around the room, taking in the state of things. “I’ve never done this single mom thing. I’ve always had Stacey, and now she’s gone.”
Tears pool in the corners of her eyes as she sniffs and runs a tissue over her cheeks. I step into her apartment, close the door, and pull her into my arms, tucking her head to my chest. The skin on her forehead is burning up, and she really doesn’t smell all that good—but I don’t care. I bring my lips to the top of her head and give her a quick kiss. These past couple weeks without her have been some of my worst. I know we have shit to figure out; I have a son I hardly know. But he’s mine—and hers—and that’s all I need to know. For once in my life I want more of those little things running and calling me Daddy.
My fingers glide under Reggie’s chin and bring her head up to look me in the eyes. I’m done hiding what’s in my heart, and I’m done letting her push me away.
“Reggie-bug,” I begin, but she closes her eyes tightly as though she doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. It breaks my heart. “Bug, look at me.” She shakes her head, pulls her lips between her teeth, and clamps her eyes harder.
“Jordan, please don’t,” she whispers.
“Regina Mariquita Velasco, don’t you push me away. I’m here at two in the morning for you—will always be here for you. I want you sick and smelling like ass and feeling like death. And puke all over the living room floor. I want you and Micah no matter what you look like. I’m not going anywhere, ever again.”
Reggie’s shoulders are shaking in my arms as tears slip down her pale cheeks. I bend forward and claim her mouth with mine, giving her a quick kiss, not caring that she’s sick. When I pull away, her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open.
“I haven’t brushed my teeth in three days,” she admits.
I shrug, grab her by the shoulders, and turn her around. “Go to bed. I’ve got this,” I say, giving her a little shove and smacking her ass lightly. She walks down the hall, and I swear I can see the weight fall off her shoulders as she closes her bedroom door.
I take a look around Reggie’s apartment and, for a moment, allow myself to panic just a little. The place is a wreck. Micah is groaning from the couch, holding a bucket in his hands while watching some cartoons on the television. My palms begin to sweat as I prepare to throw myself into the fire with this boy—my son. I wonder if he will ever like me. Can I be the father he deserves? I sure didn’t have a great example of a father, so at least I know if I don’t follow his footsteps, I have a fighting chance.
I step around the puddle of vomit and sit next to Micah on the couch. His face is pale, but his cheeks are bright pink from fever, just like his mom’s. I cup my hand over his forehead, and he’s hot too.
“How you feeling, little man?” I ask. Micah shrugs, and the blanket he has over his shoulders slips down, so I pull it back up and tuck it around him again. “What are you doing up so late?”
“I got sick and can’t go back to sleep yet,” he says as he burps and brings the bucket up to his face before puking again. I cringe and clench my teeth, trying hard not to lose it.
When he finishes, his eyes are bloodshot and watering. What did my mom do when I was sick? I try to remember a time when I was younger, and then it comes to me. I remember! I rub his back for a minute and ask for his bucket. I dump the contents into the toilet, wash it out, and rush it back to him in case he has a repeat episode.
“I’m going to bring you some soda crackers and a glass of water, okay?” Micah nods and returns his focus to the TV. In the kitchen I find a box of saltine crackers, and I fill a sandwich bag with a few and then bring Micah some water.
“Don’t eat if you’re not hungry. If you are, only eat one cracker at a time. We don’t want you throwing up what you just ate.”
Okay. I can do this. Micah seems to be doing all right, Reggie’s sleeping, and all I need to do now is clean up the mess on the carpet. I search through the apartment until I find the supplies I need and then get to work. Twenty minutes later, the carpet is clean, though I think I will call a carpet cleaner in the morning to come wash them anyway, otherwise the place might begin to really smell. I wash my hands and begin cleaning up the rest of the apartment, starting with the dishes in the kitchen. Around four in the morning, Micah is feeling a little better and asks me to take him to bed.
For a moment, I’m stuck standing next to the couch as Micah stares up at me, his brown eyes having a hard time staying open. He hasn’t thrown up since the last time, but as we walk down the hall to his room, I carry his bucket just in case. He climbs in bed and scoots next to the wall and pats the space next to him.
“Will you read to me?” he asks, his eyes blinking rapidly as though he’s fighting to keep them open.
“Sure. What would you like me to read?” He points to a book on his dresser, Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow. I sit down next to Micah on his twin bed and open to the page he has dog-eared. About three paragraphs into Jacob getting kidnapped by space pirates, Micah is fast asleep.
Chapter 38
Reggie
The first thing I notice when I return to the planet of the living is my clean apartment. Clean as in dishes are done, the counters are clean, pillows are organized, and best of all, Micah’s vomit is cleaned up. My heart swells knowing Jordan must have been up really late taking care of my house and our son. As quickly as my heart swells, just saying our son makes it skip two beats.
Our conversation at the door last night halts me in my tracks. He said he’s not leaving again. Again. What does that mean? Tear prick at my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away and walk down the hall to Micah’s room. His room is dark, but I don’t need to turn the light on to see the sight across the small room. My breath catches in my throat. I should walk away, but I can’t. The damned tears break free regardless of how much I wipe them away.
Lying in the bed is Jordan with his arm under my boy, who is tucked into his side lying with his head on his father’s chest. My chest constricts, and the love I feel for them both nearly explodes out of me. Are we all going to be okay? Can we really be a family after all of this?
I turn to leave the room, but Jordan whispers across the way, “Hey. How are you
feeling?”
A smile parts my lips as I sniff away my tears and nod. “Better, thanks to you.”
Jordan shifts, scooting Micah off of him, returning my boy back to bed as he pulls the blankets over his sleeping form. He stands and stretches, crosses the room, and places his hand on my lower back as we close the door and walk across the hall to my room. We sit apart on the edge of my bed, with our hands linked between us. The silence drags on and I can feel the heavy weight of Jordan’s gaze on me, but I don’t know what to do or what he wants. So I do what I do best, fill the awkwardness with small talk.
“I really want to thank you for coming over last night. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” My fingers tug on the hem of my shorts, which are clean now that I’ve showered and washed my hair. “And the apartment, you didn’t have to clean it.”
“What are you doing, Bug?” Jordan asks as he slips to his knees in front of me. “What part of what I said last night isn’t getting through your thick skull? Was it the part where I said I didn’t care if you were sick? Or when I said I didn’t care if you smelled? Which, by the way, as much as I didn’t care that you smelled, I really love how you smell now. You smell like vanilla and spice, and it makes me want to lick every inch of your skin.”
His hands close over my thighs, eyes searching mine, and I want so badly to fully give him my heart. I know what I feel for him, what I want from him, and how badly I long for him to stay in my life. He must see the hesitation on my face, because his hands fall to his sides and the muscles in his jaw clench as he closes his eyes and turns his head.
“Damn,” he says as he stands, places a kiss on my forehead, and walks out of my bedroom. Within seconds, I hear the snick of the front door closing and the cracking of my heart. It’s not small, in fact it’s so wide I could crawl inside and be lost forever in the chasm I just created by hesitating. He walked away and I didn’t stop him. I don’t understand what we’re doing to each other. He loves me—I know this. Why did I not stop him? Why did he walk away?
