Chapter 8 #2
She hiccuped. “My life is a disaster.”
“You know,” I nudged her gently, “maybe this was meant to happen.”
She glowered at me, dabbing at her tears with the washcloth.
“You are a type-A overachiever boss-bitch planner,” I said, like she didn’t already know that.
She nodded, clearly comforted by my accurate appraisal. “Maybe this was the surprise you needed.”
She scoffed, the sound a little watery. “You think I ended up pregnant on accident and remained clueless about it until my water broke in a pizza parlor because the universe didn’t want me overthinking and obsessing for nine months?”
I tamped down on a smile. She was annoyed, but at least mad was better than sobbing and beating herself up.
“And us,” I said. “We would have argued the entire pregnancy.”
“Yes.” She slumped. “Because you would have annoyed me by bringing me snacks and gifts and insisting on coming to all the doctor’s appointments.”
“Yup,” I quipped. “I would have been at every single one, with snacks.”
She shook her head, though one corner of her mouth quirked up. “You are the worst. I would have hated you and pushed you away and told you I could do everything on my own.”
“Really?” I gasped, feigning surprise.
For that, I got a light punch in the arm.
My body lit up with the contact she initiated. I was the kind of person who gave and received touch casually. It was natural to me. But Evie, so far, had been very selective about it. So her touch made me feel special, even if it had been violent.
Because violence from Evie Marino was preferable to nothing.
She dried her eyes for good, then took Vincent from me.
When my hands were free, I jumped up, determined to make myself useful before I said something stupid and made her cry again.
According to Jenn, the best thing I could do was be useful.
So I unloaded the dishwasher, then refilled it with the stacks of plates and bowls in the sink. I’d tackle the laundry next.
After I’d cleaned off the island and started folding the load of clean clothes, Evie put Vincent in his baby swing and padded over, the color already back in her cheeks.
“How do you do it?” she asked quietly, picking up her coffee.
I folded the tiniest pair of pants and started a pile for Vincent’s things. “Do what?”
“Be so positive all the time. Smile so much. Make the best of things.”
I shrugged easily. All my life, I’d gotten questions like this, so the answer came quickly. “I was born like this.”
“Bullshit. Try again.” She folded her arms over her chest, the movement drawing my eye to the pink nursing bra visible through her old white T-shirt. “Give yourself some credit, Jasper. You had to have done work to get to this point. Don’t deny it.”
The fire in her eyes made my stomach clench. This was the Evie I was used to. Passionate and opinionated. Damn, good coffee really could work miracles.
“I was young when my dad died,” I explained. “Heart attack when I was in high school. He’d had his first heart attack a few years before that, but he rallied. For a while, life was great. Things went well and I relaxed, but then one day, he was gone.”
A soft breath escaped her. “I’m so sorry.”
“My mom spoiled me rotten. I’m the baby of the family, so it was my birthright. We were close, so losing her broke me inside. She’s been gone for three years, but I wake up every morning aching to talk to her.”
The moment turned really heavy really quickly.
But at the same time, I appreciated the question.
This was the first time Evie had really been curious about me.
And I wanted her to know me, just like I wanted to know her.
In therapy, I’d learned that achieving connections was worth the vulnerability, so I rolled with it.
“We have no idea how much time we have,” I continued. “Every day is another opportunity for joy and fun and all the good stuff. So I try to remember that and choose the good stuff. The smiles and delicious coffee and laughing at baby farts.”
She regarded me for a minute, sipping her coffee, a hint of warmth in her eyes, though it died quickly. “I wish I could feel that way. My brain is wired for worst-case scenario every day.”
“The bad stuff?” I said. “It’s unavoidable.
Grief and loss and sadness. They sneak up on you.
Taxes and storms and flat tires are all part of life whether you like it or not.
But joy.” I took a step toward her, holding her dark gaze.
“You’ve got to choose joy. It’s not just out there to stumble onto. You’ve got to actively seek it.”
If I let my mind spin, it’d be brimming with doom and gloom. Future custody disputes, worries about my financial future now that I had a child, the murderer on the loose in our small town.
There was so much fear, so much to lose. Enough to swallow me whole. So I had to stay focused on the good.
“You’re full of life lessons today,” she said, her lighter tone a little forced. “Baby gas mitigation and now philosophy? You are a pretty good inspirational speaker.”
With a wink, I tipped an invisible cap. “Happy to indoctrinate you into the church of Jasper anytime.”
She threw a onesie at me, her cheeks turning pink. “And you just made it weird.”
“It’s okay.” I kept folding, my smile growing wider. “People have told me I give off handsome cult leader vibes.”