18. Jamie
18
JAMIE
M y hands are shaking as we walk up to the front of Avery’s condo building. I don’t think I’ve been this nervous since the night I asked Julia to marry me.
At least in that case, Julia hadn’t overheard me say she was a mistake—not that apologizing to someone is even remotely the same as proposing to the love of your life.
So why am I so anxious?
The outer door buzzes as it unlocks, reminding me that now isn’t the time to delve into the mysteries of what makes me anxious. Right now, I have an apology to make.
If I’d been asked what I thought Avery’s home looked like before I stepped into it, I would have been almost entirely accurate.
The walls are a soft gray with pops of bright colors from the whimsical art pieces spaced tastefully throughout the main area. Her table is tucked into the windowed nook next to the balcony door. It’s bare, but there are traces of flour at the corners.
I smile as I recognize the painting from the videos she posts on her website. I’d thought it was a print, but now that I can see it in person, it looks like an original Albright—one of our more famous local artists.
Without even saying hello, I walk over to the painting and plant myself in front of it.
I’ve never been a huge fan of abstract art, but this artist is an exception to the rule. Everything in it seems purposeful—the shapes, the colors, and even the negative space. Just being in front of it makes me feel like I’m in a church or a cemetery—anywhere sacred, really.
A small hand touches my upper arm and I jump.
“I had that reaction the first time I saw it too,” Avery says.
I search her face for any indication of how she might be feeling, but it’s a blank mask. It’s unsettling after having spent so much time with her in her natural state, but it’s nothing more than I deserve.
“I’ve been trying to get my hands on an Albright for months and they keep getting snapped up before I can even get one. How did you manage it?”
“That’s because I had one before Albright was Albright.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was in middle and high school, I babysat her. She’s always been exceptionally talented and one of her favorite games was ‘art show’.”
“Art show?”
“She’d tape up her drawings all over the house, and we’d walk through and admire her work.” Avery shakes her head. “I once lost a bidding war to a teddy bear for one of her pieces.
“Then she grew up and got into art school. This was one of the first pieces that she won an award for at a show. She sent it to me as a thank you for being, and I quote, ‘one of the best babysitters in the whole wide world.’ Lyla has always been a sweet kid. I’m proud of the name she’s starting to make for herself.”
“Maybe you can put in a good word for me. I’d love to commission something from her, but she’s always booked up.”
“You don’t even say hello to me when you come in and you want me to help you get an in with one of the best local artists in town?”
“I apologize. That was rude.”
“It was, but I’ve heard worse from you recently,” she says coldly.
I deserved that, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.
“Avery, I didn’t mean for any?—”
She holds up a hand, and her glare dries up the words in my mouth.
“This isn’t the time.”
Her eyes flick to her son playing in the corner of the room. Shame fills me to the brim. I should have known better than to start that sort of conversation in front of a child, no matter how far across the room they were.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize where he was.”
She shrugs. “I can’t imagine it’s something you’re used to.”
Even though I know it wasn’t meant that way, the words hit me like a knife to the heart.
I never got a chance to get used to anything like that. Maybe if I’d been less selfish.
“Hey, Avery,” Wesley calls from her tiny little kitchen. “Do you think this Mac and Cheese is going to be too hot for Leo?”
“Hold on, I’m coming.”
A squeal erupts from the corner. “Mac a cheese!”
The little mite gets up from the rug and races toward the kitchen.
One glare from Avery has him skidding to a stop.
“No kitchen.” He nods sagely.
“Good choice. Thank you, Leo.” She smiles. “Why don’t you show Mr. Jamie your trucks while we get dinner ready? If that’s okay with Mr. Jamie, that is.”
I nod at her then turn to look at Leo. “I would love to see your trucks.”
You’d think I’d presented him with the Holy Grail from the look he’s giving me right now.
“Play rug, please,” he says.
I shoot a confused glance over at Avery.
“Our trucks have to stay on the play rug if we want to keep them in the living room,” she says, answering my unasked question.
“Understood. It’ll be a struggle, but I think I can manage to follow that rule.”
My heart lifts as I see her fighting a smile.
There might be a chance to patch things up, after all.
I just hope I can manage to keep out of my own way.
I follow Leo to the rug. Up close, I can see it’s patterned like a little city. There are even roads wide enough for the trucks to drive down.
I don’t remember having anything like this when I was a kid, and my inner child is doing cartwheels.
I would have loved to do this with my own kids.
Then something odd happens and I’m seeing double. Half of me is here on the floor with Leo racing our trucks along the road, with Avery and my friends trying to navigate in the too tiny kitchen.
The other half of me is playing with a blonde-haired little boy who is the spitting image of Julia. She’s in the kitchen humming some old Irish song her grandma taught her, making whatever caught her fancy.
A poke to my leg brings me fully back into reality.
“Gift for you,” Leo whispers, stretching out his closed fist.
“Why are we whispering?”
“It’s secret.”
I hold out my hand and try not to visibly recoil as a very dead, dried up worm is dropped into my palm.
He looks at me with stars in his eyes, just waiting for my reaction.
“Wow, thank you. This is such a nice gift,” I praise.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Avery’s head snap toward us.
“Leo.” Her voice is laden with warning. “Did you just give Mr. Jamie a worm?”
He freezes in place. His eyes are nearly bugging out of his head.
“I suggest you think very carefully about your answer, sir.”
“I think you should tell her the truth,” I stage whisper.
His shoulders droop and he fidgets with his hands. Then he takes a big gulp of air.
“I gived him a worm.”
“And what has Ma told you about that?”
“To not to,” he says dejectedly.
“Are there any more worms in your pocket?”
“Yes.”
She starts toward us, but I hold up a hand to stop her. I know exactly how she feels about worms.
“I’ve got this.”
“Thank you.”
I turn to Leo. “How many worms do you have on you?”
He holds up ten fingers.
“Where are you hiding all of them?”
He pulls three out of his left pocket and two from his right.
“Hmm… I don’t think that’s ten. Let’s count them together. Ready?” Leo nods. “One, two, three, four, five. Where are the other ones?”
Two worms emerge from his left sock, then two more from his right. I try not to shudder at the thought of what that might feel like.
“I think there’s one more. Where is it?”
Leo sighs, reaches in his shirt pocket, and pulls out the last dead worm.
“Thank you,” I say, trying not to cringe.
“Dinner’s ready,” Wesley sing-songs.
As the three of them set the table, I stand and scoop Leo up and toss him over my shoulder like the world’s tiniest sack of potatoes.
“Alright, Worm Boy, let’s get those hands washed.”
He giggles hysterically as I bounce him all the way into the kitchen. I set him down and grab the little step stool Avery slides my way.
“You don’t have to do that. I can help him,” she says.
“It’s my pleasure. Really. I don’t mind.”
“Alright, well you make sure you wash your hands too, Worm Man.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I smile at the faint tinge of pink that suddenly appears on her cheeks.
Once Leo’s done, I toss the worms from my pocket into the trash and wash my own hands.
You can see the entire condo from the kitchen—the nook, the living area, even the hallway leading to what I’m sure are the bedrooms. It’s an ideal setup. She can cook for her family and for her channel while still keeping an eye on the little guy.
I can see why she’d removed the cabinets above the sink even if she had lost some storage space (I could see a few screw holes in the wall she hadn’t patched). Maybe I’ll offer to fix it for her sometime.
Dinner was some of the most fun I’ve had in ages. Things started a little tense conversation-wise but grew easy quickly. The more we talked and interacted with Leo, the less tension Avery held in her shoulders. She even smiled at me a few times.
Once Leo is tucked in bed, things get awkward again.
“Wesley handed me the bag with my clothes and shoes when you got here,” Avery says, settling into the couch. “You all said you needed to talk to me, so what do you have to say for yourselves?”
I clear my throat. “I think the first thing I need to say is that I’m sorry. I never meant for you to overhear what I said. Seeing you and Phillip was the last thing I expected to see in Wesley’s kitchen. I was beyond shocked, but that’s no excuse for letting my emotions direct my actions. I was basically a kid having a tantrum.”
The hurt in her eyes when she finally looks at me is nearly enough to knock me off the armchair.
“But why did you call me a mistake?”
“I was worried for the both of you. If this got out at the Academy, Phillip might be asked to resign or not be invited back to teach next year. And before I talked with the guys, I’d been terrified they’d try to use this against you too. They’d already waffled over letting you in. I didn’t want to give them any excuse to ruin your future either.”
Her bottom lip starts to tremble. “What do you mean they didn’t want me there?”
She hadn’t known that. Way to go, Jamie.
There’s a bottomless pit where my stomach used to be.
“Reginald asked me to review your scholarship application,” Wesley says, jumping in and saving me. “The committee was split right down the middle for the full scholarship and he was the final vote. He wanted my opinion as to whether you’d be a good fit for the full tuition award.
“As soon as I saw the photos of your work, I had no clue why he even needed my opinion. When I pressed him on it…” He trails off, fidgeting guiltily.
“What did he say?”
“Can we just leave it at he was being elitist and sexist?” Wesley pleads.
She nods woodenly.
After a moment, she asks, “Can I be expelled or stripped of my scholarship if word gets out about what happened?”
“We checked into it. There’s no morality clause for the students and no specific rules about it in the handbook,” Wesley answers. “Even if they tried something, we’re all willing to go to bat for you.”
Her cheeks flush, and I don’t think I’ve seen anything more attractive.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll keep seeing us.”
“Us? As in all three of you? At the same time?”
“Like I told you before, we’re good at sharing.” Phillip shrugs.
“Why would any of you want to risk your position like that?”
“Bold of you to assume we’ll get discovered.” Wesley grins. “We’re very good at being discreet.”
“But I’m?—”
“Attractive, charming, talented, and an all around lovely person?” Phillip asks.
“If I say yes, how would this all work?”
“You’d be in charge of everything that happens,” I say. “We won’t do anything you’re not okay with. You’ll have a safe word. We’ll make sure to communicate like this regularly.
“I know it didn’t seem like it earlier this morning, but we do value open and honest communication. Any time one of us has an issue or an odd feeling or anything to say, really, we’ll get together and talk. I’m sorry if we didn’t make the best impression at first, but we are better than that. You have my word.”
“What about…” She swallows hard. “What about intimate moments?”
“If you’re okay with it, the three of us are very skilled at making a woman feel special. It’s okay if that’s something you need to work up to or don’t want to do.”
Her eyes travel across the three of us. “So we would all be in bed together.”
If I’m not mistaken, there’s a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“So if things start to get intimate and it’s only two of us, we’d have to wait until everyone is there?” she asks.
“Absolutely not.” Phillip shakes his head. “Things happen. We’re not always going to be all together, all the time. It’s inevitable that not everyone is going to be there every time things get intimate. No one is going to get jealous. You’re dating all three of us—or you will be if you want to. Both our relationship as a unit and our individual relationships with each other need to be cultivated.”
“And if there is any jealousy, we’ll sit down together and talk it out,” I say. “Whether this is something that only lasts a few weeks or becomes something more permanent, we need to be up front with how we’re feeling. What happened this morning compounds the importance of that.”
“So, would you like to start seeing us?” Wesley asks hopefully.
“I would.”
Avery bites her lip nervously then focuses her attention on me.
My heart sinks to my feet.
“But, Jamie, are you sure you’re alright with this? You don’t have to date me just because your friends are. I promise you, I won’t steal your time with them.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“What makes you think I’m not interested?”
“It’s just that you’re always a bit distant with me, and while I do think you’re attractive and I’d like to be with you, I don’t want you to feel obligated. I want you to know that I will be perfectly content with your friendship if you’re not interested in me romantically. So please don’t feel pressured to do something you don’t want to.”
She really is something special.
“I’m distant because I have the most self-control among my friends. If I’m cold, it’s because I’m fighting to remain a professional and treat you with the respect a woman like you deserves. The more time I spend with you, though, the more that control gets eroded.”
Avery swallows hard. “And if you let go of that control? What then?”