Chapter 22
Cricket
Griffin sends me a look with “help me” spelled out loud and clear in his eyes.
Fortunately, Judy comes to the rescue. On the heels of Jacob when she rounds the corner, shock widens her eyes as they volley between me and Griffin, who’s holding his boots in front of him like they’d be able to hide him from being seen.
I just slept with the man and know damn well those boots aren’t hiding much on his build.
“Um . . .” Judy starts, covering Jacob’s eyes with her hands.
“Let’s go to the park, Jakey.” She scoops him into her arms despite his desperate wriggles to free himself as he yells about a “naked man” in the yard, much to my horror and embarrassment, and scurries back the way they came.
“Griffin, come back,” I whisper-yell to the back of Griffin’s head. When he looks at me again, he does not look happy. That makes two of us, bud. “Get in here.”
“Back through the window?” He doesn’t bother whispering at all.
“You’re lucky I don’t have neighbors.” I wave him over, as panic is getting the best of me. “Come back in through the window.”
Standing straight up, he thumbs toward the front of the house, and asks, “I can’t use the door?”
“No. They’re going to be out there in a minute. I can’t have you crossing paths.”
“Crossing paths again, you mean.”
“Semantics.” I back away to give him space to climb back into my bedroom. When he doesn’t come, I dip back out. “Griffin?”
He sighs with a shake of his head as he returns to where I’m waiting for him. “This is a first,” he grumbles, dropping his clothes and boots in through the opening and hitting my floor with a thud.
“Well, if it matters,” I say, pacing away from him to the dresser to pull out a pair of shorts to quickly slip on, “this is not how I saw it going either.” I turn back to see his progress. “I’m winging this, too.”
Securing his hands to the frame, he lifts, showing off those incredible arm muscles of his, and works the rest of his large frame in sideways to land on his feet. As soon as he clears the opening, I shut the window, lock it, and lower the shades as if there are spies outside. “Get dressed.”
“Figured that was the next step, but thanks.” He grabs his jeans, shoving a leg through while eyeing me. “A bit demanding, don’t ya think?”
“Um, maybe this is another day at the beach for you, but my three-year-old just saw a naked man outside my window. So forgive me if I’m in panic mode right now.” I take a breath because I need one to calm down. “I’m sorry.”
Chuckling enough to rock his shoulders but not make a sound, he grins.
“Don’t be.” With his jeans hanging open at the top, giving me a nice peek of the trail that disappears into his underwear, I grin.
God, I’m brazenly wanton around him. This is what he does to me.
He makes my mind and body go wild with intention.
Taking hold of my upper arms, he bends his eyes so he’s level with mine.
“Panicking won’t help us. We have a minute to think, so we should come up with a plan. Unless you already have one?”
“I don’t have one.” I put my finger over my mouth so I can hear the scuffle of Judy and Jacob heading down the hall to the front of the house echoing off the wood floors. I hustle toward the door and start to open it.
“I thought you would have all your bases covered,” he says in a lowered voice. “Seems to be how you roll.”
“Guess I should have.” Tiptoeing into the hallway, I dip my head back in.
“Don’t leave this room. I’ll be right back.
” I shut the door behind me and hurry toward the front door.
Yeah, no contingency plan was in place for this type of situation.
But if I had, it wouldn’t have included Griffin climbing out my window and running into my son, his son, while escaping after having sex all night.
Jesus . . . I’m out of control. What am I doing?
I can’t play dumb. I know exactly why I’ve been distracted, and even worse, I’m in full control of what I’m doing. Does that make it better? Nope. But even in this ridiculous and careless web we’re all tangled in, it’s hard to regret my actions. All this did was put a damper on my great mood.
Jacob isn’t hard to convince of a situation. He’s three. It’s the inevitable conversation I’m going to have with him, when the time is right, lingering ahead of us that puts a pit of dread in my stomach.
When I walk outside, I quick step to the street where Judy’s got Jacob seat-belted into the golf cart.
“Hey,” I call before they take off. Judy’s been great.
I’ve never had a complaint, and Jacob adores her.
I hope I didn’t make her feel as awkward as I do right now, though mortified is technically more accurate.
I stroke Jacob’s face and lean down to kiss him on the head.
His little hand comes around my wrist. “Mommy, come to the park.”
“I can’t today. Two people are getting married down by the overlook. Isn’t that exciting?” Excitement isn’t what I read on his cute face when his mouth twists to the side. “I’m sorry. Tomorrow, we’ll have the whole day together. We can go to the park and do all the fun things.”
I’ve been lucky. He’s never been a fussy baby or kid.
But he does have a stubborn side that’s developing.
I have no idea where that came from. Stubborn isn’t something I’ve ever considered myself, and I’ve never been called it either.
He’s his own little person, though, and every few months that pass, he gets stronger opinions.
I’m glad he’s so brave to voice them, even if they contradict my own.
I lean down once more to look into those beautiful blue eyes of his. “I promise, okay, buddy?”
“Okay.”
Looking over at Judy, I have no idea what to say. She must see me floundering because when Jacob gets distracted by the hobby horse he’s still holding in his hand, she smiles gently and says, “It’s okay, Cricket. You did nothing wrong.”
She’s only in her early twenties but genuinely seems to understand the war I’m waging between being myself and having a life outside of my son and being the mother I want to be for him.
It never seemed possible to be both. Maybe I was overthinking it, though.
I step back from the cart and wave. “Have a good time.”
“We will,” they reply in unison. Jacob looks back and waves. “Bye, Mommy.”
I wave, then cup the side of my mouth, and call out, “Bye, sweetie.” Lowering my hand to my side, I stand there until they travel over a hill and are no longer visible to me.
When I turn back to the house, I look at it, seeing it from a new perspective.
I never considered it a cottage by the size, but Mom named it that on the property map, so it stuck.
The blue siding and white trim were also her design.
Although I do love it, it doesn’t feel all mine like it did even yesterday. How is that possible?
Nothing has changed other than Jacob getting closer to learning the truth about his father, and Griffin finding out he has a son. Pretty monumental, but why does it make me feel somewhat displaced?
As I walk inside the house, I know I’m jumping ahead of myself.
Even if Griffin is suspicious, he hasn’t had it confirmed.
I close the door behind me and walk down the hall.
Dread causes my feet to drag. It will be good to finally get this secret out into the universe.
He should know. He should have all along, if I had only been able to contact him.
I open the door to find him sitting on the couch, dressed, disappointingly, though logically I know I’m in the wrong to hope for that under these circumstances. Shameless. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
He stands but doesn’t rush to move. Shoving his hands in his front pockets, he asks, “No pushing me out the door or having me climb out the chimney?”
“Funny,” I snark, half-heartedly. I wish I could muster more, but I’m worried about how this will go. Do I lead or let him? More importantly, what will the outcome be?
Crossing the room, he slides his hands under my jaw. “Listen, the kid saw me. No changing that, but he’ll be okay. I doubt he’ll think about it twice.”
“And what about you?” I ask, slipping my hands onto his sides to hold on to him. If for no other reason than I might not get another opportunity after this conversation.
Raising his hands, he says, “I was already damaged goods. So a kid busting me climbing out of his mom’s window isn’t going to cause any harm.” Walking into the hallway, he says, “I take my coffee black.”
“I probably could have guessed that.” I follow him into the living room, and we cut into the kitchen.
While he sets up at the island, relaxing on a stool, I move to the other side and turn on the coffee maker. He says, “Am I that predictable?”
“No. Just thinking how much I love a mocha latte and knowing you’re probably the exact opposite.
” I scoop the beans from a sealed glass jar on the counter into the top of the machine.
With the flick of a stainless-steel button, the machine starts grinding them.
I pull two mugs from the cabinet and set them in place.
“Are we really so opposite, Ms. Dover?”
I think about the question. “Not in all ways, but some.” Turning around, I lean against the counter to face him. “You’re tougher than I am.”
“And you get that from my coffee order?”
“No. I get that from knowing you this past week.”
He gets up and comes around to the counter opposite me.
Matching my position, he leans against it but then crosses his arms over his chest. “You aren’t weak.
And you’re way fucking stronger than I am.
I ran away when life got tough.” Swinging an arm out like he’s gesturing toward someone not here, he says, “You stayed and raised . . .” He sighs, but there’s no weight to it.
It’s just kind of resolved from the way his expression can’t seem to settle on an emotion as it flips through its options.
“Listen,” he starts again, this time his voice is softer, fitting our proximity.
“You’ve been raising your son on your own.
That’s not an easy task, even with help from your nanny. ”
“I’m usually off on the weekend, but there’s a wedding on the property this evening, so I’m—”
“You don’t have to justify anything to me, Cricket.
” Sounds more serious when he says my name instead of calling me Little Chirp or even babe like he did last night.
He called me babe like he did back in Costa Rica, and it was just as potent last night in making me feel like the only woman caught in his spotlight.
Liquid starts filling the mugs, and I turn to check on it. When I look back at him, I reply, “I love him, Griffin. With all my heart.” I don’t know why I feel the need to plead my case, but I suppose it’s understandable since I’m on the cusp of losing him part of the time to his newfound father.
Don’t assume.
Don’t jump ahead.
“I know you do.” Coming to the counter next to me, he says, “We need to talk about where we go from here.”
“I don’t think it’s up to me.” The machine sputters to a stop, so I take one mug and hand it to him.
I move to the fridge to grab creamer, keeping my eyes in the cool air versus behind me.
“I’m here. We’re here. Me and Jacob.” Taking a deep breath, I return to stand next to him.
“We’re not going anywhere.” Glancing at him, I ask, “Are you?”
“Tell me something.”
I angle toward him, resting the creamer bottle on the counter. “Okay?” I ask cautiously. This is where my world changes forever. Closing my eyes just briefly, I hope it’s for the better, wanting desperately to trust in him.
“When you said Jacob’s father was kind of in the picture, did you mean he sees him sometimes?
Or?” He’s so close—standing next to me and to the truth.
I don’t dare turn my head to meet his gaze.
The intensity of energy flowing between us is already too much, though I know he’s only curious, fishing for something solid to hold on to.
“Kind of,” I whisper with my eyes trained on my coffee, hating myself for chickening out.
“You can tell me.” He whispers so quietly that I’m drawn into the kindness of his gaze. “Or you can let me jump to conclusions. I’ll leave it up to you to decide when you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” My breath lumps in my throat along with anything else that would be a lie if I spoke.
He rolls back on the counter, staring ahead.
“Did I ever tell you about my niece, Daisy?” Taking a sip, he drops that out there like bait.
His demeanor is so relaxed that I start to doubt myself.
Maybe he is only making casual chitchat.
When he looks at me, he says, “Daisy is three. She’s got this light blond hair, so light that in the sunshine, it’s almost white.
” My stomach sinks. He knows. “And these blue eyes that . . . Well . . .” He grins while facing me again, showing off the color of his own eyes in the process. “That run in the family.”
I dart my gaze to my mug again, drowning in his words and trying to think of every way this scenario might play out.
I can’t think clearly with my mind playing tricks on me.
Setting the mug down, he reaches between us and takes hold of my hand.
He tilts his head to catch my gaze, and when he does, he asks, “Is Jacob’s father in his life? ”
“Yes,” I reply, barely audible to my own ears. “He’s your son, Griffin.”