Challenged by You: A Fusion Universe Novel

by Tracey Jerald

  She straightens her shoulders. “I certainly can. And furthermore, I refuse to be a party to such behavior. You don’t think I don’t have you figured out? All your life you’ve acted like you’re too good for the life you’ve been escaped from.”

  “You’re the life I escaped from,” I hurl at her, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You and your hateful words. What did I ever do to you except exist?”

  She takes a step back as if I’ve slapped her. “How dare you with everything I’ve done for you?”

  “Everything you did?” I ask incredulously. “What did you do except berate me—including just now when you said my kids were better off with someone, anyone, other than me?”

  For just a moment I think my words penetrate, but she squares her shoulders much in the same way Annie does before she says something to hurt me. God, how insane is it I realize my daughter picked up that mannerism from my mother. “Well, add this to the things to hold against me, then. Find someone else to watch your kids. I no longer want a thing to do with them or you.” She turns to stalk off toward her apartment.

  I want to scream at her we don’t need her, but memories of last night with Jonas flash through my mind. Instead, I call to her retreating back, “I feel sorry for you, Mom.”

  That halts her progress. Even though she doesn’t face me, I continue almost conversationally. “I understand better now how difficult it must have been for you after Dad left. You worked hard. I didn’t appreciate it then. I’m sorry for that, but only that. You know why? Because despite all of that, when I did reach out, you didn’t care. And if you really cared about my children, you might give a damn about the well-being of their mother. But that’s neither here nor there.”

  “Don’t tell me I don’t care for those babies,” she snaps, facing me again.

  “You said your piece, and you said you’re done. Now, I’ll say mine.” I edge a little closer. “I’m sorry for you because their minds are young. In a few years, they’ll forget about you. They’ll have school plays you won’t be invited to, Halloween costumes you’ll never see, Christmases you’ll never be a part of—no matter how big or small. And every one of those events will be special.”

  “Because of that man in there?” she sneers.

  “No, because the three of us will make it that way for whomever is with us on those days.” Now, I turn around and walk back to my door. “Did you just make my life difficult again in the short term? Certainly. But in the long term, I have two magnificent children who will know every day they are loved—something I wondered every day if I was. What will you have?” On that parting shot, I push open my door. Closing it behind me, I lean back against it before sliding down so my ass rests against my heels. “God, what am I going to do?”

  A shadow crosses in front of my feet. A male hand reaches down for me just as big feet bump against mine. “Why don’t we figure it out together?” Jonas suggests quietly.

  My head snaps back and raps into the door behind me. “Ow. I think I just put a hole in my head,” I gripe.

  “Not a shock, Lorraine.” Jonas’s voice is tender as he teases me around to our conversation just before my mother transferred a dumpster’s worth of resentment my way. “It just adds more light to your already holey image.” He reaches a hand down.

  My lips quirk a bit at his pun. “When I first met you, I never would have thought the staid Jonas Rice has a thing for puns,” I wonder aloud as I take his hand.

  He pulls me to my feet and brushes his lips across mine. “That’s a special secret between us, okay? It’s something I only share with people who are special.”

  Even though I’m tempted to break down in maniacal laughter, I touch his face gently and whisper, “Deal.”

  “Now, back to what I was asking. How about letting me…”

  I’m about to ask him what he means by “help” when with a mother’s hearing, I hear Annie’s slight whimper. “Back in a few. Duty calls.”

  As I shift away, I hear a low “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

  I can’t say that doesn’t give me a bit of a tingle low in my stomach as I cross the threshold to the bedroom to hear Annie’s anxious “Mama?”

  “Nono!” Chris exclaims. Crawling next to his sister on the couch, his exuberance leads to a sloppy baby kiss on the side of Jonas’s cheek that Annie hasn’t already claimed to gnaw on.

  “Hey, buddy. Sleep well?” Just before Chris can begin babbling, Annie’s teeth take a bite a little too sharply. Instead of jerking back, Jonas merely chuckles, “I think that’s your mama’s job, sweetling.”

  “Mama, Mama,” Annie agrees. Lurching away from Jonas, she dives for the end of the sofa. Simultaneously we reach for her, Jonas swooping her up and down onto the floor so she can safely take off in my direction. When she reaches me, she holds her arms up. “Hungry. Want eggs. Pweese?”

  I reach down and pick her up, balancing her on one hip. Chris is perfectly content snuggled next to Jonas. “What about you, buddy? Eggs?”

  My son, still sleepy, nods.

  “Do you want me to grab her?” Jonas offers.

  “Nah. Annie likes to cook with me in the morning. Don’t you, love bug?” She nods exuberantly in response. I grin at Jonas, and my heart stutters when the warmth pouring out from him swamps over both of us.

  What started out being one of the most intense nights of my life changed to one of the most devastating mornings. Now, we’re bouncing back all within a matter of hours. And it’s in part to do with the man sitting on the couch.

  “Why are you here?” I blurt out.

  And just that quickly, the ease of the moment begins to evaporate. Annie buries her head against my shoulder. Chris is curled into Jonas, but if he were awake, I’m sure he’d notice the tension building in the room. “Excuse me?” Jonas enunciates precisely.

  “You didn’t have to stay. I could give a thousand reasons why you should be gone—”

  Standing, he lifts my son into his arms as naturally as if he’d been doing it his whole life instead of a few weeks. “And I can give you three why I did.” I open my mouth to protest, but Jonas lifts his finger to silence me. “I’m here, Trina, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  For now. The thought works itself insidiously inside my head, but I shove it aside when I answer shakily, “All right.”

  A flash of something I can’t name crosses his face. Instead of commenting, he arches a brow. “Let’s see how you handle breakfast one arm down.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, I flippantly say, “If your snack was any demonstration, better than you could with two, I imagine.”

  As I turn into my kitchen with Annie still buried against me, Jonas’s laughter follows me. “I have no doubt. Do I get to custom order my eggs?”

  Deadpan, I say, “Absolutely,” as I reach into the refrigerator for eggs, milk, and butter. Placing Annie in the high chair she and Chris share, I murmur softly in her ear when she begins to protest, “Eggs,” and she begins to squeal in glee.

  “I’ll take mine…” Jonas begins just as I start cracking eggs into a bowl.

  “Your choices are with or without cheese.” As a piece of shell lands in the bowl, I frown before using a larger piece like a magnet to attract the smaller piece out. I smile beatifically. “Also, with or without shells.”

  Jonas bursts into laughter, and I’m thrown off kilter at how easily we’ve found that balance between us that comes so rarely between two people. Even though he’s irritated with me, now’s not the time for us; it’s the time where my children come first. Before last night, I might not have understood why he’d so easily have understood that. Now that I do, I lean over and nuzzle my nose against his and whisper, “I might be convinced to make something different since watching you—”

  “Yes?” he encourages.

  “—act as a living high chair does something for me,” I conclude before brushing my lips against his cheek. “They absorb everything like little parrots, and I love h
ow you understand. Thank you.” I get close to his ear before taking a small nip. I’m thrilled when it causes a visible tremble.

  To entertain us all while I cook, and to prove a point to Jonas, I pull up the music on my phone. Alessia begins to sing out. Annie and Chris babble in beat with the word “stay” coming out exactly when the young singer emphasizes it during the song. Jonas gapes, “No freaking way.”

  “Told you.” I chuckle. As the man I’ve become more intimate with in the last few weeks than I was with my children’s father props his chin in his hand and becomes absorbed in their every nuance, I quickly scramble up eggs and toast up some bread.

  By the time the song has played for the third time, breakfast is ready. I leave mine in a pan as I reach for Chris, but Jonas holds him back. “Will he eat all of it?” Jonas asks, reaching for the bowl I’m filling for my son, even as I’m handing him his plate.

  “Yes, but you shouldn’t have to…” I’m cut off by the very male, arrogant look I get from two sets of eyes.

  “You worry about Annie, Trina. I’ve got Chris handled. Right, buddy?” Jonas jiggles my boy, who responds, “Nono!” in glee.

  “That’s if it’s okay with you?” A note of uncertainty fills his voice.

  Quickly I fill my plate and sit down next to Annie, who’s banging her hands on the high chair tray demandingly. “Sit, please. I’m sorry. I think everything’s just catching up with me.”

  Relief crosses his face. Arranging himself with Chris on his lap, he watches me feed Annie with tiny bites before he does the same with my baby boy. And with each bite, I want the world to stop. I want the simple meal—a ridiculous one to be feeding food critic Jonas Rice, I realize belatedly—to go on forever.

  Because there’s no way any of this is happening to me. Jonas let my daughter use his face for a teether the morning after he made love to me and is sitting in my microscopic kitchen feeding my son. Somewhere a clock is ticking to rush me back to my reality—a reality where I’m not falling for him. God, just don’t let it be right now, I plead.

  In between feeding Annie, I shove in a few bites. I only raise my brows when Jonas says, “I have the perfect solution for your babysitting dilemma.”

  I chew. I was trying to not think of it just yet because I didn’t want my anxiety to communicate itself to my children. Swallowing, I manage, “Oh?”

  Thank God I got the food down because I immediately begin coughing when Jonas announces, “I don’t see why you can’t utilize the firm we have at work to find a new sitter.”

  My “Excuse me?” must be deafening, because Annie yells, “Mama! Loud!” before slapping her food-ridden hands on top of her ears. Chris quickly follows, meaning I’ll have to give both kids a bath.

  My head falls forward. “No. Just no.”

  And of course both kids chant, “Nono!”

  Jonas, the bastard, laughs. “See? The kids agree. It’s settled.”

  I turn my head and manage to land my ponytail in the remainder of my own eggs. “It so is not,” I hiss.

  His smile is slow and filled with heat. “Is that another challenge? Look how the last one turned out for us.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure it is.”

  Damn, I wish it were. I open my mouth and close it before I get any more off course.

  Chapter 20

  Trina

  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer.” I hand Jonas a beer as I curl up on the sofa next to him. Annie and Chris are down for their naps. They’re exhausted from playing in the park earlier at Jonas’s suggestion.

  It was a good one. Even though I had to spend time picking egg out of all of our hair and getting everyone dressed for an outing, it was a perfect way to spend a day. They ended up shrieking and chasing one another in the small green space provided by the apartment complex. Jonas outright laughed as I dashed behind them waving my hands like a monster. Then they’d shrieked at each other, “Play here!”, “No, here!” And I felt like a goalie defending my territory, pivoting back and forth to keep them herded.

  Jonas, remarkably, had a blast. He hefted Chris into his arms and caved to the demand of “Swings!” when Annie pleaded with me for “Slide, Mama.” With a wink, he lugged my son over, so we divided and conquered the playground in a way I’ve never done before.

  My brain keeps trying to tell me I shouldn’t get used to it. But my heart? God, my heart was turning somersaults every time I saw his smile.

  Now that the kids have had a bath and they’re settled, I bring Jonas around to the oh so casual comment he made earlier about using his company resources to find my kids a sitter. “It was a sweet offer, but that’s just not right.”

  “Trina, it not a big deal. All I’d be doing is…”

  “Wouldn’t you get into trouble by doing that? Besides, I’m sure I can’t afford how much it would cost me anyway.”

  “You never know unless you let me find out.”

  “Jonas, it’s your uncle’s company,” I protest.

  “Trina, it’s a web search,” he says exasperatedly.

  “What? That’s it?”

  “Actually, for me, it’s less than that. It’s a phone call I can make right now.” Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he presses a few keys to unlock it. Holding the phone to his ear, he jiggles his foot impatiently. “Hey. Are you near a computer? Cool. I have a favor to ask.” Rolling his eyes, he glances at me. “Yes, Chelsea, it involves the woman I’m seeing. I should have known Julian couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.”

  Oh, my God. He’s talking to his cousin about me. Then my heart lurches. He told his twin about me. I start to take a drink when it goes down the wrong pipe and I choke.

  Calmly, Jonas starts to whack me on the back. “No, she’s fine. Drink down the wrong pipe. Listen, can you pull up the Cheerful Star website?” There’s a pause. “No, Trina’s normal babysitter just did an abrupt bail on her. She doesn’t trust many people to watch her kids. You’re a mom; you know how that is.” He rattles off my address.

  I don’t know if I’m holding my breath because I’m afraid of what his family might think of me or because of hope.

  “Can you send that to my phone? Cool. That’s crazy. Yeah. Okay. All right, I promise. Bye.” Jonas hangs up. Just after I think it’s safe to take a drink of my beer, he asks, “Do you know a Marjorie McPhearson?”

  And it immediately winds up on his sweater. “My next-door neighbor?” I exclaim. “How do you know who she is?”

  “First tell me this: how much were you paying your mother?”

  When I do, he says, “Do you like her?”

  “Who? My mother?” I’m so confused.

  “No, this McPhearson.”

  “She’s always been nice when I’ve seen her. I haven’t spent a lot of time with her.”

  “Well, get ready to, sweetheart.” A text comes through his phone.

  “What? Jonas, why?”

  He doesn’t answer me. All he does is hand me his phone so I can read the incoming text from his cousin. “Read this while I get the beer out of my sweater.”

  “Spot remover’s under the sink in the bathroom,” I tell him absentmindedly while I anxiously read the information Chelsea sent about my next-door neighbor.

  When Jonas emerges a few seconds later, I shove his phone back at him. “I have to call her. Right now.”

  But before I reach for my phone, I throw myself in Jonas’s arms, whispering, “Thank you,” over and over.

  Trusting is hard especially after an emotional day like today, but Jonas is making it hard not to.

  “As you might be aware, Mrs. McPhearson, they can be a handful.”

  She doesn’t say anything, merely crosses her feet at the ankles again. She takes another sip of the tea she brought with her in a travel mug when I called her before asking if she minded coming over. I babble on. “Mom was always complaining about how much work they are, and I know they’re a handful, but I thought she loved spending time wit
h them. Maybe I didn’t appreciate how much.”

  “Stop that,” she says sharply. “Your children are a delight, Trina. I’ve seen how hard you work not only to provide for them but to just be with them.”

  I’m flabbergasted. “Well, thank you, ma’am.”

  “You’re a credit to them,” she informs me primly. “They are merely at an excitable age. They need direction and challenge.”

  “Why did you give up teaching kindergarten?” I can hardly believe it—my next-door neighbor used to be a schoolteacher.

  “There’s a big difference between twenty a day and two. I can still handle two; it keeps me young. But it was time for me to retire.”

  “And your fees on the website that Jonas showed me, that’s what you charge?” I await her answer anxiously.

  “Unless you plan on being out all night, those are my fees until midnight. So many parents in this area have to work in service industries—teachers, nurses, food service. Why one time I watched a sanitation worker’s children.” She chuckles warmly as I gape at her. “Those were some early mornings, let me assure you. They were such a lovely family; I was quite sad when they moved.”

  “There are times when I have to work late,” I warn her.

  “Then we can work something out, Trina. Life happens to all of us, dear. And if I get ill, we’ll have to make other arrangements. It’s all in my contract.”

  “A contract?” I repeat dumbly.

  “Certainly.” Her face softens. “Of course, you didn’t have one with your mother.”

  I shake my head. “No. To be honest, it’s not something I thought we needed.”

  She reaches over and pats my hand. “Completely understandable. “But yes, we’ll have a contract to protect us both. How does that sound?”

  “Like the answer to a prayer,” I tell her honestly.

  “Wonderful. When’s your next day back at work?”

  “I go back the day after tomorrow. Is that too soon?” I worry my lip anxiously.

  “Let’s play it by ear. Why don’t I come by tomorrow and meet the children more formally?” Mrs. McPhearson suggests, standing. I do as well. “Does ten work for you?”