20. Jess #2
Conor darts towards me, and it’s like we can’t get close fast enough. The world spins as I tilt my chin up. Close my eyes. Eager for his lips to meet mine...
“AUNTIE JESS!” Hurricane Oliver swirls into the room in a tornado of Osh Kosh denim overalls and sticky fingers.
I open my eyes with a start and step backwards, almost overbalancing.
Oliver’s big, round eyes light up. “A HEFFALUMP!”
He throws himself at me and somewhere from deep, deep inside me, my nurturing instincts kick in. I catch the little boy in my arms. Swing him onto my hip.
Motherhood abilities unlocked—yesss!
I let out the shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Ollie! Hi! Where did you come from?”
“Mama’s here,” he mumbles, curling one pudgy arm around my neck and petting Ellie with the other.
“Your mama’s here?” I ask.
“Downstairs.”
“ Auntie Jess? One meeting and you’re already family, huh?” Conor says, but his voice is light and teasing.
“Hi, Uncle Conoww.” Oliver looks at Conor seriously. “What you doing?”
Good question, little man. Very good question.
I finally dare look at Conor, too curious to care how embarrassed I must look.
A delicious little smile plays on his lips as we make eye contact.
“I don’t know what we were doing,” Conor says. “Auntie Jess here seems to make me forget all of my rules.”
Ollie looks at me, disappointment etched all over his tiny features. “You and Uncle Conoww being bad?”
I laugh. “Yes, I think we were, Oliver. Good thing you stopped us.”
Conor looks at me over the child’s head. “Until later.”
A thrill zips down my spine.
Downstairs, Mia is standing in the middle of the living room. She’s wearing a button-front sundress, the buttons of which are straining desperately over her watermelon-like bump. Which she’s cradling as she examines one of my paintings.
She looks up when she hears us. “Oh, hey. Thought I’d drop in and check out the place. Hope Ollie didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Auntie Jess bwoke the wules,” Oliver sings.
Little brat.
I flush like a child who’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but Conor smiles easily. “Nope, not at all.”
He moves to his sister and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “How are you feeling, do you want to sit down?”
“I’m not an invalid!” Mia rolls her eyes, then pauses. “But yes, I do.”
She sinks—with no small degree of difficulty—into an oatmeal-colored armchair, letting out an “oof!” as she takes the weight off her feet.
“I’m just going to check on the yard,” Conor says. “Coming, Ollie?”
“Yay!” Oliver cheers as Conor deftly scoops him up and deposits him on his shoulders. The toddler’s chubby fists bunch in Conor’s thick hair, and I’m momentarily jealous of little Ollie.
As Conor and Oliver head outside, Mia turns to me, shifting her weight awkwardly. “I can’t wait until this child is out of me.”
“I’ll bet.” I sit primly on the edge of a couch, scared to mess anything up. I take a look around the completely staged living area. Then, I take a deep breath. “So… what do you think?”
My stomach twists into a nervous knot as I watch Mia’s face carefully. I realize that her opinion means a lot to me.
Because she’s an artist herself, or because she’s Conor’s sister?
“Jess, this place looks incredible.” She shakes her head, her eyes wide with awe. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thanks.” I blush bright red at her praise. “I’m so nervous.”
“You shouldn’t be.” Mia grins. “This is better than anything I’ve ever pulled off. You’re really talented.”
“Thank you,” I say again, hugging a pillow to my chest. The silky tassels tickle my bare arms.
“So, tell me something.”
“Sure.” I lean forward, expecting a question about one of the design elements.
But, Mia shoots me a wicked smile—one that makes her look exactly like her big brother. “What’s going on with you and Conor?”
My blush deepens.
“I’m… not sure.” I answer. Honestly.
Mia lifts one delicate eyebrow. “He looks at you like Ollie looks at his Goldfish crackers.”
“Like he wants to crush me?” I shudder at the memory of Ollie “eating” Goldfish by the crunched up, drooly fistful.
Mia laughs. “No. Like you’re a snack.”
“Oh.” My words fail me as heat rises to my cheeks.
“He likes you, Jess. I can tell.”
Her words give me buoyancy, like I’m drowning in a lake and she just threw me a life preserver. And, somehow, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can say how I truly feel.
“I like him, too,” I say, shyly.
“So, when’s the wedding?” Mia wiggles her eyebrows at me and I laugh.
I feel lighter, freer after admitting the truth to her. So much so, that I want to hold the throw pillow over my face and squeal into it like a lovestruck teenager. But I don’t. Because of all the restraint I’ve developed this week.
“Have you told Aiden?”
Aiden.
No. I have not told Aiden. Because what would I tell him?
Oh, hey bro, guess what? Your roomie and BFF took me on a date, then walked me to my bedroom door.
He kissed me, but the kiss was shorter and more chaste than the ones I’ve endured from Great Aunt Mildred.
That was a week ago. Nothing has happened since—even though we live under the same roof—but I’ve never experienced tension like this in my life, and if something doesn’t happen soon, this pressure cooker is going to explode.
And nobody wants to deal with cleaning up that Jess mess.
Yeah, Aiden would be on the next plane to Atlanta to check me into the nearest asylum.
For the criminally lovesick.
I shake my head and Mia laughs again, then winces. “Shouldn’t laugh so hard. I don’t want to pee on your chair.”
I blink. “Sorry?”
“Pregnancy bladder. It’s a thing. And don’t let me change the subject… Aiden’s going to love hearing about what’s happened in his house while he’s been away.”
“Nothing’s happened between Conor and I,” I tell her. “I think he’s just being nice.”
Mia smirks, her eyes glinting. “I know my brother. And whatever is going on between the two of you... it’s not that, believe me.”
I seize the opportunity to find out more. “What about Karla?”
“What about Karla?” Mia sits back and strokes her bump absentmindedly.
“Hasn’t anything happened between them? All that time spent alone in abandoned houses?” The mental image fills my mouth with bile, but I have to know.
Mia snorts, then makes a pained face. “Oops. No sudden movements. And no, nothing has happened between them. That woman is as bloodthirsty as a great white shark. I’m sure Conor sees it. He’s not blind.”
A tentative glow of warmth gathers in my chest. No, not warmth. Hope. Hope that Conor might actually be one of the good ones…
“Why do you ask?”
The glow dissipates as quickly as it arrived. I look at Mia, at her uncomfortable posture, her kind, genuine eyes. Her face looks way too much like Conor’s when I stare at it too long.
I can be honest with her, I decide.
I look down at my hands, chipping the nail polish on my pinky finger, which I always tend to do when I’m nervous.
“My ex left me for a woman like Karla,” I admit quietly.
“A woman who was going places, had it together. It’s…
hard for me to imagine that Conor wouldn’t do the same.
Wouldn’t go for someone so poised, elegant and successful. ”
Mia’s brow furrows as she considers my words, considers the gravity of my confession. Then, her hand stops the circles on her belly, and she sits up to look at me sincerely.
“Jess, I’m so sorry that happened to you.
” She shakes her head, the action full of sympathy.
“But, Conor’s not your ex. Don’t ever tell him I said this, but he’s a good guy.
And, even if he doesn’t always act like it, he knows that he wants to make a woman really happy one day.
Under all the flirting and confident persona, he’s just a nice guy looking for a nice girl.
For life.” She stops. Smirks again. “At least, he was looking for someone. I think he may have stopped the search.”
“Stopped what search?” Conor’s voice comes from behind us, and we both just about leap out of our skins.
I wheel around to see him looking at us, amused. Oliver is clutching his hand.
Mia recovers quicker than I do. “The search for my bladder control. Now, help me up before I wet your armchair.”
“I am begging you, please keep your bodily fluids to yourself,” Conor responds, but he’s at his sister’s side in a flash. His touch is gentle and caring as he helps her to her feet. “Mia, are you sure you should have driven here alone?”
“No!” she says cheerfully. “Now, can someone tell me where the bathroom is?”