Chapter 16 Jamie
JAMIE
Every piece on a chessboard is there to protect the queen.
Lose your queen, and you’re going to lose the game.
Pay attention to that, boys. Life is a lot like chess.
—Advice from Aiden Murphy to Jamie and Finn
“Well good morning, princess.” Dad reaches for Kyrie before I even walk through the door of his house the next morning. “Come here.”
Aiden Murphy looks the same in his early fifties as I remember him looking in his early thirties when we were kids, making me incredibly thankful for good genes.
Here’s hoping they didn’t skip a generation.
He likes to say he stayed active after he retired from the NFL, but that’s kind of an understatement.
The man still works out every day and has for most of his life.
I bet he’s still as strong as a few of the guys on my team.
He used to joke that he was Mom’s trophy husband, once he retired and she was elected.
He said he needed to look good if he was going to be her arm candy.
Really, I think he just liked knowing he could still beat someone’s ass if he needed to.
I mean, I could take him, but I can take most men.
Finn and I were lucky. He’s funny, even if most of his dad jokes are lame as hell, still a great cook, and an incredible dad.
Always was. Family first. He made sure we knew that in every way that mattered growing up.
Balanced it all. He and Mom both did. She refused to run for her Senate seat until he retired, so he retired once she decided she was ready to run.
They were a team, first and foremost.
One of those couples who make you think good relationships are the norm, instead of a once in a lifetime thing. They made it look easy even though it was probably anything but. They made me want what they had.
And now, he’s transitioned into a grandfather like he’s been waiting a lifetime for the position. He doesn’t actually care that she isn’t his. Or maybe he knew she was going to be part of our family before I did.
Dad melts like spilled ice cream on a hot summer day as Kyrie giggles and throws herself into his arms, trusting he’ll catch her as she claps her hands against the red beard the old man swears doesn’t have any gray.
He’s lying. It does. Or at least it would if he didn’t pluck them out.
Kyrie opens her mouth and sucks on his cheek. Her new version of a kiss.
“Careful, Dad. She’s drooling something fierce,” I warn, looking around for Mom but coming up empty. “Is Mom here?”
“Yoga. But she should be home soon,” Dad answers, never taking his attention from Kyrie.
Yeah, the minute she came to live with me, Finn and I were each officially knocked down a rung on the ladder of importance.
Replaced by this little girl, and that makes me love my parents even more.
“What’s going on, son? It’s a little early for you to be stopping by. ”
I follow him into the kitchen and help myself to the coffee.
It is early. Kyrie’s an early riser, and so am I.
But Ashton isn’t. She does it, but she barely speaks before her first cup of coffee in the morning.
And that’s when she hasn’t spent half the night crying and the other half puking like last night.
Letting her sleep in . . . giving her some space. That was a no-brainer.
I have no doubt she’ll be pissed when she sees my note telling her Kyrie and I are out running some errands, but whether she admits it or not, she needs time to process last night. And there’s no way my girl could do that with me crowding her.
There’s also no way I’d be able to be near her today and not crowd her.
Not now. Not after last night.
Will she be pissed that I left and took Kyrie with me?
Maybe. But I’m more worried about her and how she’s handling everything.
Guess I’ll deal when I get home.
Home . . .
Funny how that word can change.
Four months ago, home was a place I built. Walls and a roof filled with everything an interior designer deemed appropriate for the space. Now it’s a feeling. Now it’s a place that holds my heart.
Christ, I’m waxing poetic like a fucking douche.
“What’s on your mind, kid? Spit it out. Not that I don’t appreciate the surprise visit, but you’re not my quiet, introspective son.
You’re the kid I could always depend on to tell me what was going on with you and your brother and the rest of the damn family while you were at it.
All I ever needed to do was get you in the car without the radio on and you’d spill it all.
Don’t disappoint me now.” He grabs a container from the pantry and sits at the counter with Kyrie on his lap, then dumps out the baby puffs like he’s done it hundreds of times.
Hell, he probably has between us and my cousins and now all their kids.
“I feel like I should be insulted,” I chuckle as I lean back against the counter and cross my ankles, stretching out.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Jameson. Is everything okay with Finn? With Ashton? Your cousins?”
“Define okay.” I probably shouldn’t be smiling.
I’m not sure what the fuck it says about me that I am, but I am.
Knowing Ashton is pregnant with my baby doesn’t scare me.
Why the fuck would it when I’d already figured out what I wanted before she told me she was pregnant?
She was always going to be the endgame, even if it took us longer to get the damn game started. She’s it. She always has been.
The look he gives me before dumping a few peach puffs in his hand for Kyrie speaks to the level of patience he’s good at.
Patience, however, was never my strong suit.
I’m more an act now, ask questions later man.
“I was hoping to talk to you and Mom.” In typical Dad fashion, he doesn’t disappoint. His bright green eyes rise slowly from Kyrie, nailing me in place with a stare that makes me feel like I’m ten years old again, admitting I stole a comic book from the store on a dare.
“Are you coming to tell me you’re marrying Ashton Carmichael, son?” His words are slow and measured, and he knows they’re wrong.
“Not yet,” I answer carefully. Not that I won’t be coming to tell him that one day. “We’ve got some things to work through before we’re there.”
Like telling her I’m in love with her.
Like getting her to admit she feels something like that for me.
Kyrie slaps Dad’s hands, demanding all his attention, and I hide my laugh. She’s six months old and already knows how to get herself all the attention she wants. We’re going to have our hands full. And damn if that doesn’t make my smile grow wider.
Dad shakes his head and focuses on Kyrie. “Jameson—”
“She’s pregnant, Dad.” The words hang between us as I lift my coffee and watch him over the top of the mug.
He drops his head and lowers his gaze, disappointment and resolution clear in every tiny movement.
I don’t know how many times Finn and I got the safe-sex lecture. He gave me my first condom in ninth grade. Well, not my first, just the first from him. Mav and I bought a box the summer before that. We wanted to be ready. Not that either of us used them for another year.
Aiden Murphy might love kids, but I’m pretty sure he would have been content with the one he’s holding for a little longer.
“Is it yours or Finn’s?”
“Fuck you,” I growl, seething and straightening, ready to yank Kyrie away from him and get the hell out of his house.
“Sit. Down. Son.”
“I think I’ll stand.” I hold myself back as Mom walks through the door from the garage.
Her cheeks are pink from exertion, and her dark hair is pulled back in a bouncy ponytail. She’s relaxed and happy as she greets Dad and me, not picking up on the stony silence before she beelines for Kyrie.
“Hello, sweet girl. What are you doing here?” She steals her away from Dad, then kisses his cheek and heads for me. Her palm skims my face before she kisses my cheek too. “Hey, baby. What are you doing here so early?”
“Yes, Jameson. Why don’t you tell your mother what you just told me?” The old man might have worded it as a question, but there’s no doubt that it was more demand than option.
“Is everything okay?” Mom asks, looking between us, concerned.
“It will be, Mom,” I reassure her as I stare at my father, fucking furious. “Ashton’s pregnant.”
Mom’s mouth opens and closes once . . . twice before kissing Kyrie’s head, clearly shaken, and looking to Dad. “Okay. And—”
“Yes,” I groan. “The baby is mine. She and Finn aren’t like that.”
Red. I see fucking red.
“Well, honey, you can’t blame us for wondering. I mean, she and Finn . . .” Mom tilts her head, searching for the right words. “And you and she . . .”
“That’s what I said,” Dad chimes in, and I swear to God, I’m not sure if I’m more mad at him or my brother or myself.
“It’s mine. She’s mine.” I run a hand over Kyrie’s head and look at her. “They all are. They were before we found out Ashton was pregnant, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.”
“Oh.” Mom does a lousy job of hiding her shock, but at least Dad seems to be losing some of his fight. “Well, are you . . . happy about this?”
“I am,” I answer without hesitation. “I was hoping you would be too.”
“If you’re happy, so are we, Jamie. But I have to ask . . . Does Finn know?”
I don’t tell them Ashton and I have barely talked about it yet.
That’s between us. Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea.
“Not yet. We only just found out yesterday. She hasn’t even seen a doctor yet.
” I make a mental note to check on that.
“I wanted you to be the first to know before the gossips in town get hold of it. I’d appreciate it if you’d let Ashton and me talk to Finn. ”
“I won’t lie to him, but this isn’t our secret to tell.” Mom purses her lips, holding back a tremble. “You’re going to be a daddy. My baby’s having a baby.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I drop a kiss on the top of her head and focus on Dad. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but I’m not—”