Chapter 11 Presley #2
My parents aren’t due back from their weekend getaway to Savannah until tomorrow. Unless it’s already Sunday and I didn’t just sleep through the morning, but an entire day. I flip to my calendar app to confirm—nope, still Saturday.
So, why are they on their way home now?
I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow. What changed?
Mom
You getting sick
There’s no way you’re taking care of a sick 3-year-old if you also have an upset tummy
I blink, trying to make sense of her response.
I don’t disagree—the two of us being sick like this at the same time is not ideal, but how does she even know?
Scanning back through our texts, I look to see if maybe I texted her and simply don’t remember.
I’ve done stranger things while sick. But there’s nothing.
The last exchange between us was her sending me their hotel reservation information so that I would have it.
How did you hear I was sick?
Mom’s response appears almost instantly.
Mom
Jace called your daddy.
Jace called my dad. He not only stuck around all night and all morning, but he called my parents to let them know that I’d come down with whatever this is too.
Holy shit.
Mom
I know he said that he’d stay as long as needed, but I don’t want to put him out
Me either.
Thank you for coming home early
Of course! That’s what parents do. I know you understand that.
Now get some rest. And let me know if you want us to pick anything up on the way home.
I will
I close my texts, my heart squeezing so hard it almost hurts. He called my parents. Told them he’d stay as long as needed. Are you kidding me? I don’t know that I can handle this. It’s too much.
Cody wouldn’t get within ten feet of me when I was hunched over the toilet with morning sickness. Jace is sitting on the edge of my bed holding back my hair and helping me balance a puke bowl. After cleaning up both me and my child last night. Oh, and spending all morning watching Curious George.
He’s making it very hard not to fall.
Forcing myself out of bed, I shuffle to the bathroom to try and clean myself up. Even if it’s just a little bit. If nothing else, my bladder is screaming at me for some relief. Some cold water to my face will probably also be a big help.
Twenty minutes later I’m in fresh clothes—nothing fancy, but at least it’s a different pair of sweatpants than Jace saw me in yesterday—feeling like something that resembles a human being again.
My gurgling tummy is still more than enough of a reminder that I can’t push it, so I take it slow as I walk down the hall to the living room.
Little boy giggles greet me, bouncing off the walls of the living room, my pulse skittering with happiness at the sound. There is no better sound than that giggle.
Except for maybe the deep, manly laugh that is now blending in with it.
I stop, pausing at the end of the hall, and lean against the wall, taking in the scene before me.
Otis is curled up under Jace’s arm, the two of them under a blanket, their focus fully on the TV in front of them.
Otis clings to Socks, one arm wrapped tightly around the bear, like it’s the last life vest on the Titanic.
I watch them for a long moment, loving that they are so comfortable with each other that nothing else around them matters.
Just two dudes hanging out, watching movies and having a sick day.
“Mama!” Otis calls out when he sees me.
“Hi, baby,” I say, pushing off the wall and padding over to them.
“You feel better?”
Well, that’s a loaded question. My stomach is still questionable, but after watching these two, my spirits are definitely up.
“Little bit. Are you?”
Otis nods, turning back to the movie. I settle in on the other end of the couch, giving them enough room so that I don’t disturb them. Looking over Otis’s head, Jace winks at me, then turns back to the TV. Butterflies fill my chest and I have to fight the urge to giggle. I am not fourteen.
“Jace, do you have a favorite toy?” Otis asks.
Jace smiles down at him, nodding. “Just like you have Socks, I still have Phant. Phant is a blue elephant, and he went everywhere with me when I was little. He sits on my nightstand now.”
Be still my heart…
“Mama has her toys too. But she keeps them in a special place and I’m not allowed to play with them.”
“That’s a completely different Woody and Buzz…” Jace mutters, smirking.
OH MY GOD…
Heat rushes up the back of my neck, my cheeks instantly flushing. No, no, no. That’s not what he—
“Samansa and Molly,” Otis corrects him.
Jace’s eyes go wide, flicking his gaze to me. “Well, didn’t see that coming.”
“And Felishitty…”
“Felicity,” I say slowly, sounding out each syllable. I hold Jace’s gaze, my embarrassment still loud and proud all over my face. “Felicity, Samantha, Molly, and Kirsten. The original American Girl dolls.”
I wait for the teasing. The comments about being a thirty-five-year-old grown-ass woman and still having dolls. The reminder that I’m too old for such a thing—that they’re for little girls.
“I know those dolls,” Jace replies, the response catching me off guard. “Willa had one. It was blonde.”
“Long braids or bob?”
Jace shrugs. “Errr, short hair. I don’t remember braids.”
“That’s Kit. She came later, after Mattel bought the line. The four I have are original Pleasant Company dolls.”
“That makes them sound expensive.”
“Not for little kids,” Otis chimes in.
“Just big ones?” Jace asks, looking at him like this is the most serious conversation in the world. You’d think they were negotiating world peace based on their faces.
Otis nods. “Mama says I can’t touch. Not til I’m old.”
I chuckle. “Older.” I pause, thinking better of it, and then mutter, “Maybe.”
Thankfully, the conversation dies, the movie stealing the boys’ attention once again. We settle in, watching the action play out, my soul strangely at ease. I drift off at one point, waking up again at the sound of my name as credits roll on the screen.
“Mama, I be Buzz for Halloween?”
Errr…
“Sure?” I reply, still coming to. Halloween is in a couple of weeks and is always a big to-do in this town. Or it used to be. But I can’t imagine that Hickory Hills stopped doing Truck or Treat since I left. “I can see if I can find a costume.”
“And Jace can be Woody and—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I warn. Because I’m sure the last thing Jace Hayes wants to do is dress up as Woody the cowboy for Truck or Treat.
“Y’all hungry?” Jace asks, either completely oblivious to Otis’s ask or changing the subject as fast as he can. My bet is the latter.
I shrug, feeling like I could eat, but still nervous about how that will end.
“Little Man, wanna help me in the kitchen? We can make your mama some soup.”
“Okay!”
Otis is up and off the couch in a flash, my stomach lurching, full of worry that he’ll be sick again. Jace doesn’t look worried though.
Instead, he gives me a wink, turning to head to the kitchen.
“I got this. I got you.”