The Best Thing

by Zapata, Mariana

  Peter made the slightest face, which was really the equivalent of a huge gesture coming from anyone else. “Not much. She asked why you laughed at her, didn’t like what he told her, and then she left.”

  I hummed and crossed my ankles, sneaking another glance at him. He was still making a weird expression. “Are you okay with her showing up?”

  “I wish she hadn’t. If it were up to me, you would’ve gone the rest of your life without meeting her, but—” He glanced over with those dark, dark eyes. “—Lenny, you know it’s Gus who kept her away, don’t you?”

  I was an adult, and these two men I loved so much were still trying to protect me. And they always would, I knew. Always.

  But even knowing that it was her divorce from my grandpa, and the reasons behind it, that had kept her away, didn’t change shit. If Mo had a daughter, there was nothing that would keep me away from her. Nothing.

  So I told him the truth, most of it at least. “I know, and I wish she hadn’t come either. I don’t want her to cause either of you any problems.”

  I didn’t know what to think of the silence that followed afterward as he parked the car and we headed inside. I knew her appearance worried him and my grandfather. For multiple reasons.

  And as much as I didn’t want to make this about me, it was hard not to. She’d shown up to talk to Grandpa. Not to see me. That hadn’t even been in the plan.

  So fine. Fuck her. Shoving Rafaela aside, I followed Peter into the house.

  All the lights downstairs were still on, which wasn’t surprising. But not for the first time since we’d left, I wondered how it had gone between Jonah and Grandpa Gus. I kind of regretted we didn’t have a camera set up in the house so we could spy on them.

  But at least, if Jonah had fucked up, Grandpa Gus would give me a play-by-play on what happened.

  The first thing I heard was the sound of the television on softly in the living room. I peeked inside, unsure if someone was going to be hiding or just sitting there. But Grandpa wasn’t trying to scare the shit out of me yet. He wasn’t alone either.

  On the floor, Jonah was stretched out beside Mo—eight times her length, it seemed like—who was sitting up, smashing colorful blocks together.

  The thing that struck me the most was the little smile on his face as he spent his time looking at her instead of the replay of a boxing event playing on the television. He looked… happy? Did he already really like her? He should. She was amazing, but….

  Grandpa Gus, on the other hand, was sitting in the middle of the couch, arms stretched out to both sides, eyes straight on the television.

  “We’re home,” I called out as I took a step forward and stopped being a stalker.

  Two sets of adult-sized eyes moved, and Mo shrieked.

  I had read in a book that right around her age she might start getting clingy with people coming and going, but she hadn’t. She was still so happy to be reunited after some time with me and Grandpa Gus. It killed me a little and made me feel guilty for leaving her alone so much.

  At least she was always with someone who loved and cared for her. That’s what I told myself.

  But if I had any doubts that someone was still holding a grudge that I had left him with a visitor, the expression Grandpa Gus shot me would have confirmed it. It almost made me laugh, but I figured he was already going to make me pay for it without making it worse. It would still be worth anything he put me through, though, even if I pissed my pants.

  “How’d it go?” he asked grudgingly as Peter stepped up behind me.

  We looked at each other.

  “He lost,” Peter answered with disappointment.

  I walked over to the other side of Mo, got down on my hands and knees and blew a raspberry on her upper arm before aiming for each of her cheeks so I could ask, using every bit of strength inside of me not to laugh, “How’d it go here?”

  I glanced up to find Grandpa shooting me the same face.

  Yeah, someone was going to scare the fuck out of me at the very least.

  “Well, I think. Changed my first dirty nappy.” Jonah glanced at me with a slight smile on his face. “It was… something special. It didn’t smell like I thought it would.”

  I looked down at my girl so he wouldn’t see me grin at what he’d gone through. He didn’t need to sound so happy about it either. “Did it get out of her diaper and go all over her back?”

  Out of my peripheral vision, I saw his head tip up. And when I glanced back at him, his expression was serious as hell, and his voice was stunned and slow as he asked, “Is that possible?”

  From the couch, Grandpa snickered, and I couldn’t fucking help but snicker too as I nodded at the beautiful man. “Yeah.” I cupped my hands and made an exploding gesture with them.

  His blink made me laugh.

  The things this man would learn. Honestly, part of me couldn’t wait to see his hands full of shit for the first time. Maybe Mo would throw up on him at least once. That would definitely make my day.

  Jonah laughed, and I highly doubted it was my imagination that it sounded a little nervous. “I know what to expect now, I suppose. I never would have guessed someone so small could do such a thing. Is every child that… capable?”

  “She takes after somebody, so it isn’t surprising,” my hater-ass grandpa threw in on a mumble, eyes back on the screen, and a smirk on his face.

  I pulled the elastic out of my ponytail, not caring it was going to leave my hair a mess, and shot it at Grandpa. It hit him right on the chest. He had the nerve to throw his hand over the spot and shoot me a face that was way too dramatic for how much that only slightly stung.

  A deep chuckle escaped the brown-haired man as he started to move one of those long, muscular legs that were taking up a ton of floor space. “Thank you for allowing me over,” Jonah said as he got to his knees and thrust a hand toward the man sitting on the couch.

  Grandpa Gus’s nostrils flared for a moment before he took it, looking just as put out as I would have expected, but he gave it a shake anyway. He didn’t say anything in response though, and he did make a suspicious face.

  With his hand back, Jonah paused and tipped his chin down. That same big hand moved toward the baby’s face, and one single finger—his index—touched a chubby Mo cheek before lightly giving the round little belly covered in a soft lilac onesie a tap. “Goodnight, Mo,” he said in that voice that was somehow laced with just enough kindness to sound sweet.

  Mo waved her whole hand in the air, earning her another little tap of a finger against her tummy.

  And in a way that I could have admired on any other person his size, Jonah got to his feet lightly and quietly, meeting my eyes as soon as he was up. “Thank you again, Lenny.”

  It ate at my heart to say “You’re welcome” because I was an asshole.

  His smile made me feel worse.

  I almost sighed but got to my feet, scooping Mo up just as her dad made it to the hallway that would lead him to the front door. “Do you want me to give you a ride to your hotel?” I basically gritted out after him.

  Over his shoulder, those intense honey-colored eyes lingered on my face. “It’s late. You should stay. Shouldn’t take too long for the driver to arrive if you don’t mind me sitting outside until they do.”

  Was I being that much of a jerk that he thought I was going to pitch a fit over him waiting on the porch? He had fucked up, but he was here. I wasn’t that petty.

  There were millions of people in the world who fucked up too and wouldn’t even think about facing their mistakes.

  Like the woman who had showed up today.

  That thought had just entered my head when my gaze landed on a brand-new book sitting on the coffee table. Where the Wild Things Are. Something nudged at my gut as I took in the cover and the fact this dickface had brought it for Mo.

  He unlocked the door and opened it before I could get out. “We’ll wait with you.”

  Grabbing Mo’s jacket, I slipped it on her as
I watched him dip his head and step out, closing the door once she was ready. He settled on the top step, all the way over so he was inches away from whacking his elbow on one of the pillars straddling the stairs as his fingers moved across the screen of his cell phone. I sat down as far as I could on the same step to the left, balancing my girl on my thigh, with her back supported by my upper arm and chest. I tugged the hoodie part of her jacket over her ears just as she began grabbing at my sweater, trying to stick it in her mouth.

  Down the street, I could hear kids playing even though the temperature had started dropping a little to bring a chill. Blended into those noises were car doors opening and closing. They were all familiar, comforting sounds of being surrounded with the mostly historic homes on our street.

  I glanced at Jonah when he set his cell phone on his thigh and aimed his upper body toward us, an open expression on his broadly boned face. His gaze flicked down to Mo, and a small, but tender smile replaced it.

  I only had to think about it for a moment, still relishing her weight and her smell, but knowing damn well I would have it after he left. “Do you want to hold her while your ride comes?”

  He sucked in a nervous breath and reached over with those massive hands, meeting my eyes briefly with that smile on his face, before plucking her gently off my lap and settling her down on one muscular thigh. “So small,” he murmured as he held her, both sets of fingers stretched out wide in case Mo decided to go for a nosedive.

  “She’s pretty big for her age,” I found myself telling him, as I thought about how he’d assumed I wouldn’t want him on the porch. I was all for being an asshole… but only when it was necessary.

  “Is she?” Jonah asked, attention downward. He dipped his face close to hers, eyes going big. “She must get that from you.”

  Mo answered with “Ba” like yup.

  I peeked at his shoulders alone.

  He flashed me a quick grin before focusing back down on his daughter. Our daughter. “I was a skinny kid until sixteen.”

  I made a disbelieving face at him that got me another grin.

  “I’m not joking. Even my own mum had given up on me growing. In one year, I grew… sixteen, seventeen centimeters. The next year I grew another eight. Bit of a crap two years. My knees hurt the whole time.”

  Holy shit. What was that? A foot in two years?

  He changed the conversation around back to me. “You’ve always been tall?”

  I curled my hands over my shins as I watched his index finger brush the bottom of a tiny foot. “I’m not tall, but yeah, I—”I had to try, I reminded myself. I was going to have this man in my life for a long time, and he was being awfully fucking decent so far. So… I could be decent back. It was less work than flipping him off every chance I had. “I was taller than most of the boys and almost all the girls for a long time. Now, I just kind of wish I was shorter.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s hard to find pants that fit,” I told him honestly. I was an inch too tall. It was a curse.

  His chuckle made the dimple closest to me pop. “Yeh, I know what that’s like. It’s a bit of a pain in the ass, isn’t it? I’ve got, maybe, five pants that fit me well.”

  I snorted and only slightly regretted it when he shifted those honey-colored eyes at me, giving me a glimpse of both his dimples as he smiled sweetly.

  “Would you like to talk about your grandmother?” he asked out of nowhere.

  That caught me off-guard, but luckily there was only one answer to give, and I didn’t hesitate to share it. “No.” I didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about her and her mysterious reappearance, much less talking about her, especially with Jonah. There were a few too many holes there I wouldn’t be able to jump over if I tried explaining the situation.

  He’d heard enough to have an idea of just how absentee she’d been. Which was 100 percent.

  There was that and… I just didn’t want to talk about her.

  He nodded in understanding and smiled some more, his teeth very white against his tan face, a gentle reminder to me of how he’d been in France. Of why I had liked him so much. Of why I had looked for him and waited for him and been so disappointed when he hadn’t come.

  That familiar question floated around in my head, and even though I knew I had no business asking it, knew I wasn’t going to like his answer or still might not believe it, the fucking question was there. Wanting to be asked.

  I glanced down at my hands still covering my shins. What did I have to lose? Nothing, that was what. I’d made a commitment to get along with him, and I was going to stick to it until he went total dickhead on me and earned me being a bitch back.

  So I just fucking asked, “Did you really not know I was pregnant?”

  I watched him glance at me with alarm. Or maybe it was surprise. But it was something.

  “I’m not going to kill you or anything if you did. Nothing will change between you and Mo. I just want to know,” I told him, knowing it was the truth. “You’re here now. Your relationship with her is what matters to me, but… I don’t want to wonder about it. I just want to know the truth.” I squeezed my shins and tried to give him a smile that felt pretty damn grimace-like. “I won’t get any madder than I’ve already been. Promise. I don’t think I could ever get that mad again, anyway.”

  All right. Maybe I didn’t need to throw that last part in, but it was the fucking truth. I couldn’t get any more pissed off than I’d been back then.

  He should be so fucking lucky he hadn’t seen me there at the end.

  Jonah took a long and steady breath that made me feel better instantly. In my experience, the people who were the most passionate when accused were always the biggest lying sacks of shit. Another slow smile that wasn’t all happiness and joy crossed over his mouth. It was a bittersweet expression.

  Actually, no, I realized after a second. There was no sweetness in it. It was pained.

  “What’s that saying?” Jonah asked gently, taking hold of our girl’s foot in his big hand and swallowing it up with those long fingers. “I cross my… heart? Is that it? I cross my heart, Lenny.” He lifted his head and looked right into my eyes with that heartbreaking face. “I didn’t know. Not until I got here and you told me. I had no clue.”

  I watched his face. I watched his face so damn carefully….

  “I would have been here in a wheelchair if I had known,” he claimed, steadily, quietly. “On crutches. On my hands and knees, I would have been here.”

  It was a lot harder than I would have assumed to process that thought. If I had known you were having my baby, I would have come. But if I hadn’t known, I still would have waited because you weren’t important enough. God, when the hell had I become this person?

  This has nothing to do with you, I reminded myself, even if it was uncomfortable.

  Even if it hurt. Just a little. Stung more than hurt, I’d say. And even that idea had me shifting on the step, from one butt cheek to the other. But I could focus on the positive part of what he was trying to say.

  He would have been around for her, at least. And that was what mattered. What would always matter.

  How he felt about me was the last thing I needed to keep carrying around so close to my heart. It needed to be somewhere around my damn colon for me to hate him passively, and that’s what I’d agreed with myself on. That I wouldn’t hold on to it. I wouldn’t.

  “I got your first messages,” Jonah continued. “I told you. I saved them. Even the angry ones.”

  The ugly feeling made my stomach churn. “Look, I just wanted to know if you were being honest about knowing or not. I don’t need to know what—”

  The hand that wasn’t holding Mo’s foot reached out, cool fingertips touching the top of my hand over my shins. “No offense, love, but I don’t care whether you want to know or not. I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up, but I can’t do that. I don’t want you thinking for any longer than you already have that I left because of you.”


  That fucking ugly feeling in my stomach churned again, crawling up my esophagus and wanting this conversation to be over with. “Jonah—”

  The Asshole shook his head. “No, Lenny, you have to hear me out. Please.” His hand closed over the top of mine, and I didn’t move it. I wasn’t retreating. That wasn’t me. “It’s no excuse, I know, but I was in a crap state of mind then.” He winced. “I shut myself off from everyone. Everything, really. My family. My mates. My team. Physios. Everyone.”

  His hand squeezed over mine, but I couldn’t move it.

  “You.”

  Me. He remembered he’d left me hanging. How about that?

  Jonah kept going. “It was stupid and reckless, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my bloody life. I thought my life was over. All the work, the sacrifices….” The fingers over mine jerked so slightly I thought I might have imagined it.

  But I didn’t.

  And I still didn’t move my hand away.

  “I had to get away, even from myself. I stopped listening to the voice mails altogether. The calls never stopped, you understand. I deleted them at first but stopped doing that too. I was tired of the calls to see how I was doing, to tell me how sorry they were. I thought… I thought it was over,” he explained softly. “I slipped one night getting off the recliner, and I broke my phone out of frustration.

  “I’m ashamed that it all got to me—the people ruling me out from coming back, saying I was done because it was my second Achilles injury. I couldn’t bear to read it. To hear it. That’s when I stopped checking my emails, because of all the messages too, and I hadn’t seen them. Not since then. Not until you told me about your emails. I’ve read them all now. It took me a bit to get the right password.”

  Now, almost a year later.

  “I stopped getting online around then too. The media….” He trailed off.

  I squeezed my shins again, his own hand staying exactly where it was over mine.

  I had never… I had never been so down over an injury that I had felt like my life was over. But I had seen so many of my friends go through that. The grief. Because that was what it was. Grief over losing your identity. Or at least at the idea of losing it. At the overwhelming possibility of it.