8. Jonah #2
He lifted a shoulder. “Carly and I weren’t married, as you probably have gathered.
We were just figuring things out after a long separation while she was pregnant.
I went back to California for the birth, knowing I had been accepted to the culinary arts program here, hoping to persuade her to move to Florida with the new baby. ”
He took a breath and another drink. Man, he hated this story. Just like the story of his mother’s death in a private plane crash. He hated telling anyone how mired he was in tragedy and bad luck. Who wouldn’t go screaming into the night?
“Anyway, Atlas was born—perfect and flawless, as you know—and on his three-week birthday, Carly went to the store to pick up diapers.” His voice cracked again and the pressure of her fingers intensified. She’d abandoned dinner.
“What happened?” she breathed the words again, this time with dread in the tone.
“I should have gone, Pepper. I was nose deep making some dumb recipe and she didn’t want to wait, but she was sleep-deprived and determined. She shouldn’t have gone. But far more importantly, I shouldn’t have let her.”
“Shh.” She soothed him with the same touch that settled Atlas.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. “She ran a red light—remember, sleep-deprived—and got T-boned by a delivery truck. Died instantly and without…” He couldn’t finish, swiping his eyes.
“I should have gone,” he said so quietly he almost didn’t hear himself.
“I was making some stupid sauce. The diapers could have waited. She could have waited. It all could have been so, so different.”
“Jonah.”
“It’s okay.”
“Oh, Jonah.” Two tears rolled over her cheeks, meandering over her freckles. “That poor, sweet boy.”
He had been told “I’m so sorry for you” by what felt like every adult in three states since the accident, but no one had ever gone to Atlas first. Atlas, the one who’d really been robbed by that night of thoughtless decisions.
She dropped her head in her hands, clearly affected.
“I know,” Jonah said. “Atlas deserves a mother.”
Her head shot up and she blinked watery eyes, coating her long lashes in tears.
“He does,” she said, more vehemently than he expected. “Oh, I know he has…” She gestured toward the house where the energy and perfume of more than a few women lingered. “But he will always…” She stopped herself, then wiped one cheek quickly, embarrassed.
“Not exactly sure how we got here,” Jonah said with a dry laugh. “Something about you praising my protective streak. Feel free to change your mind.”
“Never!” she exclaimed. “I trust you. I want you to be with me during the storm. And I…I’d say I’m sorry, but it feels lame.”
He tipped his head in agreement.
“Can I flip the script?” Jonah asked, inching closer.
She sighed and picked up her fork. “Maybe.”
“I can’t know about your…past? What’s your story, Pepper? What happened with the guy you left in New Orleans?”
“Oh, him.” She flicked her fingers. “Nothing. Just…you know. A bad relationship. Not a…tragedy. Oh, did I tell you that I can totally get Atlas to stand just holding my two fingers? His legs are so strong, Jonah!”
And the adept subject change reared its ugly head.
“Don’t you think I should know something about him?”
She chewed, wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, and picked up the bread, breaking off a piece. “I had some of this earlier today. You made this? Kate says you actually have a sour dough starter. Such a Renaissance Man, Jonah.”
“Pepper.” He leaned in. “You can’t avoid it forever.”
“Hah! Watch me.” She took a bite of the bread, too much for her to speak, and looked out at the water.
He sipped wine and followed her gaze, a mix of frustration, curiosity, and relief. Maybe he didn’t want to know her complicated past. Maybe it was better if she told him in her own good time.
“Will you need me to watch Atlas tomorrow while you help your dad?” she finally asked.
“Actually, everyone will be here. Including me, but Kate and Emma and the grannies will step in.” He eyed her, knowing the subject of her past was well and truly shut.
She rose, brushing her hands on her shorts, then reached for her plate. “That was amazing. I’ll go downstairs and get my stuff.” She smiled at him. “Thanks again.”
Whoa. She did not want to talk about her ex.
He cleaned up the kitchen and waited, but she didn’t come up with her tote bag, so he walked to the stairs and listened. He could have sworn he heard…something.
Was Atlas awake already?
He walked down quietly, listening for the familiar sound of Atlas’s squeaky noises when he awakened from a deep sleep.
But all he heard were soft, soft sniffles. That wasn’t his son crying. It was Pepper.
He came around the corner and stopped as he heard her voice, unable to resist listening before he checked on her.
“My sweet, sweet little boy.” He heard her move, maybe leaning over the crib to stroke his forehead. “I’m so sorry for what life handed you, baby. You have a good daddy. A beautiful, dear, one-in-a-million daddy, like no one I’ve ever met. So, you’ll be okay.”
Jonah froze, a little stunned by the compliment he was surely not meant to hear but would never forget.
“I love you so much, Atlas,” she continued softly. “How I wish that I could be more than your nanny, but…we both know that isn’t going to happen.”
Why not?
Jonah had to force himself from charging into the room and asking the question. He did take a few steps toward the door, able to catch her reflection in the mirror over the dresser.
“Goodnight, sweet boy.” She bent and kissed Atlas on the head. Then she straightened and looked at Atlas, her hand on his back. “In the meantime, a girl can dream, right?”
She took a step back and Jonah did, too, then cleared his throat.
“Hey, you still down here?” he called as if he’d just come down the steps.
“Yes, just getting my bag.” She met him at the doorway, tote bag over her shoulder, her eyes glistening.
He searched her face, a million questions in his head.
No, not a million. One.
Why would she have to dream anything?
She gave him a quick smile and zipped by him and headed up the stairs. “I’ll let myself out. Night, Jonah! We’ll see you Friday for our hurricane adventure!”
With that, she was gone and Jonah was left alone in the doorway, living smack dab in the middle of his own cone of uncertainty.