Chapter 9
AJ
Iwas fiddling with the coffee maker when two sets of feet scampered around the corner and stopped right in front of me.
“Who are you?” the girl asked. She was covered from neck to ankles in a purple unicorn-print snow suit. She had bright pink boots on her feet and a white toque on her head. Her dark brown hair was fighting its way out of pigtail braids, and her green eyes studied me carefully.
I smiled. “I’m AJ. Who are you?”
“Emma. It’s spelled E-M-M-A. I can write it too. Want to see?”
“I’m Oliver. Look how high I can jump.” He wound up and jumped before I could answer.
He was a little shorter than his sister, but had the same mop of dark hair, this time tucked under a navy and yellow toque.
He was similarly wrapped up against the cold, and his matching pair of green eyes smiled at me.
I laughed. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Myra told us to go and play. Will you play with us?” Emma, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the pair, asked with a hopeful gleam in her eye.
“Yeah, we’re bored,” Oliver added.
Play. Right.
I looked around. We weren’t exactly on a playground. I spotted two brightly colored backpacks leaning against the counter. “Do you have any homework?”
They looked at each other before Emma answered. “We’re only six.”
“What!” I exclaimed and planted my hands on my hips. “I thought you were in high school. That changes everything.”
They both giggled.
“Do you have any toys in your backpack?”
Oliver shook his head no.
“We have crayons.”
Hell, that would do. I glanced around and grabbed a stack of paper plates. “Why don’t you guys draw some Christmas decorations on these plates? Maybe you can make them look like Santa’s face or a wreath or something.”
Emma grabbed for them first. “I’m going to make mine look like a snowman.”
“I’m going to draw a reindeer.”
Crisis averted. I turned back to the coffee machine and managed to get a pot brewing.
“We’re hungry,” Emma announced a few seconds later.
“Yeah, can you get us a snack?” Oliver added.
“Dad says we’re allowed candy. Just don’t ask him about it, okay?” Emma’s face was solemn, and I bit back a smile.
Oliver nodded along with his sister’s obvious fib.
“Well.” I started rummaging through the hodgepodge of items on the countertop against the wall. “I don’t have any candy, but I see fruit, bread, jam, and peanut butter. How about a sandwich and some apple?”
To my relief, they yelled a collective “Yay!” My brilliant craft idea had only taken them a few minutes to complete, and boredom was setting in again.
“Can I play my game, AJ?” Oliver asked. He plunked down on the floor by the table and pulled off his toque.
“Ah, sure, just for a few minutes.” I had no idea what the rules were for playing on an electronic game, but that seemed like a good answer.
“No, one hundred minutes,” he said and flashed me a grin.
“How about twenty-seven minutes?” I put my hands on my hips and pretended to give him a hard stare.
“Deal!” He pulled what looked like a phone from his pocket and hit a button.
I cut up two apples and set them aside, wondering if these kids belonged to the sister-in-law Brock had mentioned, the one I assumed had passed away. My heart gave an uncomfortable flip-flop at the thought of kids this small without a mother.
Emma approached with tentative steps and poked her nose over the edge of the table. “What are you doing?”
“I’m thinking peanut butter then jam then another layer of peanut butter, just because. What do you think?”
She nodded eagerly. “Can I help?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
I pulled a chair over for her to stand on. “Let’s wash our hands first, and then you can pass me the bread.” She smiled brightly, reaching for the soap. “I can help! I like doing stuff in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Emma. I do too,” I admitted. I had been so focused on work through my marriage and after the divorce that I used my phone more than a spatula to make dinner. Maybe I needed to get back to it.
“Spreading peanut butter is hard since it is sticky and gets on my hand,” Emma said. “You are really good at it. You must make these all the time.”
Stephen had never been supportive of my domestic side.
It had been all work all the time, and his drive for success had been contagious.
I was the perfect up-and-comer on the arm of the business shark.
We had never talked about kids. They wouldn’t have made sense in our world.
How Missy convinced him to have one, I had no idea.
Maybe there was no convincing involved. She was young, warm, and sweet.
You could tell from a mile away she would make a perfect mother.
The same wasn’t true of me. Not when all I thought about was work and getting ahead.
“I don’t make them as often as I should. ”
“Why?” Emma turned her gaze to me.
Why? God, it was such an innocent question.
Why had I let myself get so wrapped up in someone else’s view of the world that I altered my own to match?
Love? Naivety? Hero worship? I just had to get through this presentation and beat him for the promotion.
Then I could work the rest out in therapy.
“I guess I forgot how much I love them.” I added a few apple slices to the plate and handed it to Emma. The little girl beamed.
Oliver was zoned out on his game, but he snatched a sandwich off the plate when I placed it in front of him. “Twenty-seven minutes, right?”
“You got it.” I smiled at him. I couldn’t help it—the sweet voice, the fact that after one bite he had crumbs on his cheek. They were both so cute, I could just squish them.
“Uncle Sam, look what me and AJ made.”
I whipped around to see Sam come around the corner. His hair was stuck up here and there like he had been trying to pull it out, and his eyes were rimmed in red.
“AJ and I,” he corrected. “But that looks delicious. Any chance you made one for me?”
I handed him a plate and a cup of coffee.
“You are a saint. Thank you.” Emma sat on the floor next to her brother, watching the game he was playing over his shoulder.
Sam and I sat next to each other on the bench and dug in.
“Thanks for helping with the kids.” He bumped my shoulder with his, and I leaned into him a little.
“They are really sweet. I had fun.”
This glimpse I was getting into Sam’s life, and who he was as a man, was overwhelming. I felt like I was seeing behind the curtain, like I could fit into this world so easily and all it would take would be to leave everything I had fought so hard for behind.
Sam watched the kids with a look of pride in his eyes while he finished eating. “That was perfect, Emma. You can make my lunch any time.”
She frowned. “This is the only thing I know how to make. AJ, could you teach me to make something else?”
The question caught me off guard, and I fought to swallow the last bite. “What do you want to make?”
She seemed to consider the question. “I want to learn to make cookies!”
The look in her eye was so hopeful that it took me a moment to respond. “I love cookies. What’s your favorite kind?”
“Chocolate chip.” She rubbed her stomach.
“Those are my favorite too.” My eyes darted to Sam, who was already looking back at me.
Something I couldn’t name passed between us.
I was busy at work. Always busy. I hired someone to clean my condo and constantly ordered takeout.
But the truth was, I wanted to see the kids again.
It was a week until Christmas, and the idea of fresh-baked cookies in a warm kitchen with Sam’s little family sounded like bliss compared to my bare condo.
I had loved and lost before, but Sam was looking at me like he wanted me to say yes.
Like he wanted me to take a chance and cross the line.
It was so different from the expressions I was used to from Stephen.
He had expected perfection and always looked dumbly amused if I used the wrong font in a presentation or spilled coffee on a white blouse.
It was condescending and arrogant. Why had I wanted to please him so much?
Sam was grateful for a couple slabs of white bread, and my ex had put his nose up at caviar.
“I’m sure I can sometime.” I was talking to Emma, but my eyes never left Sam’s.