Chapter 2
HARLOW
"Mommy! Mommy! We stopped at the store and look what Jae let me get!”
My tornado of a child barrels into the apartment and straight to where I sit on the narrow gray couch with my laptop doing schoolwork. I quickly move my computer to the coffee table as she dives onto the couch, her backpack falling to the floor as she waves the tiny heart shaped balloon on a stick.
“Isn’t it cool, Mom?”
“It’s awesome!” I try to sound as enthusiastic as she does. She’s so exuberant that at times it’s difficult to match her energy.
I look up to find Jameson locking the door behind him. When he turns around there’s a bouquet of white tulips in his grasp. “I wanted to get you flowers. I knew you had a busy day.”
Gratitude fills my chest. “Thank you. You’re so sweet.”
He’s already walking into the small kitchen with them to grab a vase. He practically lives here and knows where everything is.
“How was school?”
Roe kicks off her shoes, still waving the balloon around so light pouring in from the windows bounces off it. “It was good. We’re learning factions—no, fractions.” She corrects herself.
Fractions? In first grade? I can barely do them now and I’m twenty-two. I guess the fancy-pants school Spencer insists on her attending is ahead of the curve.
“Fractions? Wow.”
“Ms. Lenard is always so happy to see Daddy.” She draws the word out from one syllable to three. “She likes talking to him, I think. And touching his arm.”
“Hmm, interesting.” I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. You’d think a teacher would be professional enough not to fawn over a celebrity, but that’s too much to expect apparently.
Jameson comes into the living area with the vase, setting it on the console beneath the mounted TV. I don’t miss his amused smile.
“Can we get a kitten?” Roe asks, not missing a beat. “Drew in my class just got one and it’s so cute, Mom. He showed everyone a picture on his cellphone—why can’t I have a cellphone, again? Everyone else does, so I think I should too. It only makes sense. It’s a safety concern.”
Jameson rubs his jaw to hide his barely contained laughter at my daughter who can’t help but talk a mile a minute and has a vocabulary that frightens me at times. She’s going to be smarter than me by the time she finishes elementary school.
“For starters, pets are a lot of work and need lots of time and love—”
“Oh, but I’ll love it so much!” She waves the stick around. The balloon attached to the end nearly smacks me in the face.
“You didn’t let me finish, Roe. Secondly,” I emphasize, giving her a pointed look because we recently had a talk about interrupting people when they’re speaking.
She was sent home with a note from her teacher about disrupting class and talking over other children.
I know my girl doesn’t mean it in a bad way, but it’s still a habit she needs to break.
“Secondly”—I repeat for good measure— “the building doesn’t allow pets. ”
She sighs, hopping off the couch. “What a bummer. Can I have a phone then?”
I should’ve known she wouldn’t forget about that part. “No, phones are expensive and you’re too young.”
She purses her lips. “When will I be old enough?”
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly with a shrug. “But I know first grade isn’t it, not for me and your dad at least. Drew’s parents might be okay with it, but not us.”
I know in the world we live in that a cellphone wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for her to have, but God forbid I just want her to be a kid as long as possible.
At least Spencer is just as reluctant as I am, though his reasons are probably different than mine.
I’m sure his concern is her stumbling across articles about the latest female he’s been spotted with.
“Fine. Okay.” She spins around, her skirt puffing up.
I can almost always count on her dropping something if I tell her that her dad doesn’t approve either.
“Go wash up.” I swat her butt playfully. “I’ll get dinner finished.”
She runs down the hall, the door to her bedroom slamming closed a second later. It doesn’t slam because she’s mad. It’s just Roe. She can’t do anything slowly or quietly.
“I wish I had half her energy.” Jameson shakes his head, unable to hide his smile any longer. He rubs the back of his head, ruffling his wavy hair. “It would help me during my long days stuck at my desk. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“Maybe it’s because she was born during one of the worst storms Santa Monica has ever seen,” I muse.
I stick my hands in the back pockets of my jean shorts, standing in front of him. At six-foot-four Jameson is a whole foot taller than me. I have to lean my head back to see him fully.
“I think she’s special. Like her mother.” He finally swoops in for a kiss.
He cups my cheeks in his hands, kissing me deeply. I feel it through my whole body. It’s nothing like the quick pecks we exchanged at Cool Beans this afternoon.
He doesn’t kiss me long because we both know tornado Roe will be zipping by any moment.
“I’m going to go pop the garlic bread into the oven,” I blurt, trying to ignore my desire for more than a kiss. “And cook the pasta.”
Things have been busy and even though it’s only been a few days I’m aching for his touch.
But sex will have to wait. For now, at least.
He chuckles, pulling off his tie that was already loose. “I’m going to shower and change really quick.”
Jameson might be a smarty pants when it comes to software and I know he loves his job, but he hates dressing up more than anything in the world.
Even though we don’t officially live together, he spends enough nights here to keep clothes around.
His apartment might be nicer, but with Roe it’s not like I can exactly sleepover unless she’s with her dad. This is her home.
Sticking the garlic bread in the oven, I warm the homemade spaghetti sauce I made earlier and set the water to boil for the pasta.
With that part taken care of, I grab Roe’s fallen backpack from the floor and pull out her homework packet as well as her planner I need to sign. She never remembers to have me sign it, but lucky for her I don’t often forget.
Flipping through the worksheets I knock on her bedroom door.
“You may enter.”
I stifle a laugh and twist the nob to find her sitting on the middle of her bed, surrounded by the millions of pillows she insists are absolutely necessary—her words, not mine.
Her room is a little girl’s dreams. Despite money being tight, I managed to get her a nice white bed frame with a pale pink canopy above thanks to a thrift find.
She wanted her walls painted a soft blue color except for the one behind her bed that’s white with pink polka dots.
I know it’ll be a bitch painting over it whenever we move out, but it’s worth it to make her happy.
“Homework.” I wave the packet, and she hops off the bed, pushing her sandy hair out of her eyes.
“Ugh. I told Ms. Lenard it’s stupid that we go to school all day and then bring it home with us. It’s the worst. I want to play with my dolls.”
“Did you really say that?” I keep my tone stern even though I want nothing more than to laugh.
I don’t know where Monroe gets her spitfire personality from. Neither Spencer or I are shy, but we’re not bold and lacking a filter like the child we made.
“I’m not a liar, Mom. Of course, I told her.”
I press my lips into a thin line, trying not to let my laughter shake loose. “Did you get in trouble?”
I haven’t looked in her planner yet to sign off on it, but I won’t be surprised if there’s a note from her teacher.
“I had to put my card on orange. Orange, Mom. I went from green to orange. She skipped right over yellow.” She lets out an exasperated sigh and takes her homework from me.
“Get started on what you can. I’ll help you with the rest after we eat dinner.”
“I already did it with grandma. Obviously.” She rolls her eyes.
“Don’t sass me,” I warn. It’s like I have a teenager on my hands already. “Pick out your outfit for tomorrow, then. If you don’t, I get to choose.”
“Is Daddy taking me again? I asked him but he said he wasn’t sure if he could, and he’d let you know.”
“I haven’t heard from him.”
She frowns, already walking over to her closet.
Shaking my head, I return to the kitchen to finish up and plate the food. By the time I’ve put all our plates on the table Jameson is out of the shower, dressed in a pair of old distressed jeans and a t-shirt that says Ah! The Element of Surprise.
“Smells delicious, babe.” He places a kiss on my cheek. “What do you want to drink?”
“Just a water.”
“Roe-Roe-Roe-Your-Boat, what about you?” He calls out as Monroe runs down the hall.
“Capri-Sun!” She launches herself into the chair and it slides across the floor.
Monroe has two speeds. Fast and faster.
Jameson grabs her Capri-Sun, my water, and his beer—somehow managing to hold them all in one hand as he closes the refrigerator door with the other.
“Go long, Roe.” He tosses her the Capri-Sun and she makes a dramatic show of catching it, nearly falling off the chair in the process.
My stomach rumbles as we’re finally seated at the table. I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten, but my belly didn’t forget.
We dig into the spaghetti and meatballs. Both of them appear as ravenous as I am.
“You make the best balls, Mommy.” Monroe tries to fit an entire meatball in her mouth, gives up, and bites a fourth of it off.
Jameson has to smother a laugh while I shake my head, far from surprised by her declaration.
“Yeah, Harlow”—Jameson speaks up— “your balls are the best.”
“Shut up.” I playfully push his shoulder, but it’s impossible not to be amused by the whole thing.
“Mom”—Monroe begins in a voice that sounds suspiciously like my parent voice— “you said shut up isn’t a nice thing to say, remember?”
I frown. “I … I did say that.”
Kids, they never forget a thing and they’re more than happy to call you on your own bullshit.
She lowers her lashes, her blue irises barely peeking. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Jameson coughs into his napkin, trying yet again to hide his laughter.
Luckily, we finish dinner without any more incidents.
“I got the dishes, babe.” Jae drops a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Take care of Roe.”
I smile gratefully at him as he gathers up the dishes to take to the sink.
“You know what time it is?” I ask Monroe.
She holds up her right hand, shaking her head dramatically. “Don’t say it.”
“I have to say it.”
“No, you don’t.”
I fight a smile. “It’s bath time.”
“I said don’t say it, Mom. If you don’t say it, then it’s not true.”
“But it is true.” I tap her nose. “I’ll get it ready for you.”
“Ugh, I’m not even that dirty.” She stomps down the hall, pausing outside the bathroom so I can get the water running for her.
“You’ve been to school, you’re dirty,” I argue. “I’ll get some clean PJs for you.”
“Not my unicorn ones. I’m not feeling very rainbow at the moment.”
I hesitate by the bathroom door. “Because you have to take a bath?”
“Yes.” She leans her head back. “It’s going to wash away my sparkle.”
I bite my lip, so I don’t let my laughter escape. “Okay, then.”
Closing the door behind me I grab some pajamas—not unicorn ones—from her room and bring them back. She’s already in the bathtub laying on her back looking up at the ceiling.
This child takes dramatic to a whole new level.
I put her pajamas by the sink like I always do. The water sloshes as she sits up, the back of her hair drenched now.
“Remember, wash your body with soap. Use the cloth.” I point to the one I set out previously. “Wash your hair, too. Don’t think I won’t know if you just got it wet.”
“I know,” she groans. “I’ve got this.”
That’s what she always tells me before she tries to pull one over me.
So many nights I end up having to force her back into the shower to wash her hair.
I hope I’m not the only one with a child who acts like she’s allergic to soap and water.
I continue to give her a chance to handle it on her own, wanting her to take that independence if she wants it.
Shutting the door behind me, I take a second to catch my breath before joining Jameson in the kitchen.
“Need any help?” I call out.
He shakes his head, turning around. “Nope. Just finishing up.”
Coming up to him, I wrap my arms around his solid stomach. I don’t know how he finds the time to exercise with as busy as he is at work, but he says it’s his me time. My me time usually consists of stuffing my face with Oreos.
Resting my chin on his chest, I look up at him. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Well, you make the best coffee, so it was easy to fall in love with you.”
I stifle a laugh. “Oh, so my ability to make coffee is my only redeeming quality?”
“One of them.” He winks. “Is the Tiny Terror giving you trouble?”
“She’s hated baths since she was a baby.” I pull away from him and hop up on the counter. “She used to scream bloody murder during every single bath, so at least that doesn’t happen anymore.”
“Don’t worry. One day she’ll love them and run up your water bill.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe she’s six.”
Jameson has known her since she was four and even in that short time she’s grown and changed so much already. As much as she might try my patience at times, I wish I could slow things down, savor the simple moments a little longer.
I know they’ll be gone in a blink. These times are a short blip in my life.
Jameson narrows his eyes on me, probably wondering where my contemplative look has come from. “You’re a good mom. You know that, don’t you?”
I wrap my arms around myself. “Some days I feel like the worst parent in the world and others … she’ll do something, or say something, and I think maybe I’m doing all right at this whole thing. Parenting is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I love being her mom.”
“You’re amazing,” is all he says, kissing me gently.
I don’t know what twist of fate sent Jameson into my path, but I’m glad for it.