Chapter 8
ALEXA
Henry’s finally asleep in his bouncy seat, exhausted from his first day of homemade baby food adventures. I’m at Jordan’s sink, scrubbing sweet-potato purée from what feels like every surface in his kitchen, when he appears beside me with a dish towel.
“You don’t need to do that,” he says, gently taking the sponge from my hands. “You’ve done more than enough today.”
“It’s no problem. We made this mess together.”
“And I can clean it up myself.” Jordan’s voice is firm but kind. “Besides, you probably have plans tonight. It’s Saturday.”
I pause, suddenly aware of how my evening actually looks. “My plans involve hanging out with my nine-year-old.” The words come out before I can stop them, and immediately I feel heat creep up my neck. “Which probably sounds incredibly lame and like I have no social life.”
Jordan sets down the dish towel and looks at me directly. “It sounds like you’re a good mom who prioritizes her child. There’s nothing lame about that.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I clear my throat and step back from the sink. “Well, Ash is probably wondering where I disappeared to.”
“Thanks again for today.” Jordan shifts toward his wallet on the counter. “I can’t believe how much he’s eaten. And that nap was amazing.”
I watch as he pulls out a stack of bills, counting out what looks like far more than I expected. “Jordan, you don’t need to—”
“Three hundred.” He holds the money out to me. “For today.”
My eyes widen. “That’s way too much. We were only here for six hours.”
“You saved my sanity.” Jordan presses the money into my hand despite my protests. “You’re worth it.”
The bills feel substantial in my palm. More money than I’ve held at one time in months.
“For tomorrow,” Jordan continues, “how does fifty an hour sound?”
Fifty dollars an hour. I try to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m calculating. Even if I only worked four hours a day, five days a week, that would be a thousand dollars. About what I made working full-time at my old marketing job.
“That seems like way too much,” I manage.
“It’s not.” Jordan’s voice is firm. “I looked up what infant specialists charge in Boston. You’re actually underpriced.”
Ash tugs on my shirt. “Mom, can we go home now? I want to show you something.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” I look back at Jordan. “Are you sure about tomorrow morning? I can be here by nine if that works.”
“Nine is perfect.”
We say our goodbyes, and I follow Ash across the yard to our house. The three hundred dollars in my pocket feels heavy in a good way, like it represents the security I’ve been grasping for.
“Mom?” Ash drops his backpack by the front door. “Are you mad we spent the whole Saturday over there?”
I hang my keys on the hook by the door. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because it was supposed to be our day. You know, Saturday morning pancakes and hanging out.” He fidgets with the zipper on his backpack. “But then we ended up working instead.”
My chest tightens. He’s right. Saturdays are our time together, and I turned today into a job without even asking if he minded.
“I’m sorry, Ash. You’re absolutely right. I should have checked with you before agreeing to help Jordan all day.”
“It’s okay.” He shrugs, but there’s something in his expression that makes me kneel down to his level.
“No, it’s not okay. Your feelings matter, and I should have considered them.”
“Mom, really, it’s fine.” His face brightens. “I actually had fun. Henry’s really cute, and Jordan knows a lot about comics. Did you know he has first-edition X-Men issues?”
“I did not know that.” That makes me smile. So, Jordan is not only accomplished and attractive, with his rich-brown hair and eyes and tall, muscled physique, but he’s also a comic geek?
A hot comic geek.
“And he said maybe next time we could read some together, if that’s okay with you.” Ash bounces on his toes. “Plus, now you have a job again. That’s good, right?”
The relief in his voice breaks my heart a little. Nine years old, and he’s already learned to worry about money. It shouldn’t be this way.
“It’s very good.” I stand up and ruffle his hair. “How about we make some dinner? What are you in the mood for?”
“Grilled cheese?”
“Grilled cheese it is. As long as you eat some veggies with it.”
We work together in the kitchen, Ash setting the table while I heat the pan. The routine feels normal after a day that was anything but normal. As the sandwiches sizzle, I watch Ash arrange napkins with the same careful attention he gave to entertaining Henry today.
“You were really good with Henry,” I tell him. “He seemed to calm down whenever you talked to him.”
“He likes funny faces. And when you make that voice, you know, the baby voice? He thinks that’s hilarious.”
“You’d make a good big brother.”
I almost regret saying it. I always wanted multiple kids, but that just hasn’t been in the cards for me. I ended up picking a man who couldn’t follow through, who couldn’t…
I push away the thoughts. No. Today was good, and I’m not going to spoil it by thinking about him.
Ash looks up from the napkins. “Do you think Jordan wants kids?”
The question catches me off guard. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Just wondering. He seems like he’d be a good dad once he figures out the baby stuff.”
I flip the sandwiches, trying not to think about Jordan as a father. About what kind of life he might want. About whether that life might include someone like me.
For all I know, he has a girlfriend. Or he’s not dating right now. Or he’s not even interested in women.
Or he’s not interested in me.
That last one seems the most likely. The only thing I bring to his table is my baby skills. Not that I’m complaining. Those skills are now money in my pocket that will be taking care of my car payment.
“Maybe,” I say. “But right now, he’s just focused on taking care of Henry.”
We eat dinner while Ash tells me more about his conversation with Jordan about superheroes. Apparently, Jordan’s favorite is Iron Man because he likes the science behind the suit.
“Can we watch a movie?” Ash asks after we’ve cleaned up.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Something with superheroes?”
I laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”
We settle on the couch with The Incredibles, one of Ash’s favorites. He curls up next to me, his head on my shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like maybe everything is going to be okay.
Halfway through the movie, Ash’s breathing evens out. His weight becomes heavier against my side, and when I look down, his eyes are closed. I carefully extract myself from under him, covering him with the throw blanket from the back of the couch.
The kitchen is quiet as I pour myself a glass of wine, the kind of quiet that comes after a full day. Through the window, I can see lights on in Jordan’s house. I wonder if he’s struggling with Henry’s bedtime routine or if the baby went down easily.
The back porch welcomes me with cool evening air and the distant sounds of the neighborhood settling in for the night. I get comfy in my favorite chair, wine in hand, and let myself process the day.
Three hundred dollars. Fifty an hour. A job that lets me bring Ash with me and pays better than anything I’ve applied for in weeks.
It should feel like a miracle. And it does, mostly.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Esme’s contact. She picks up on the second ring.
“Please tell me you’re calling with good news about a job interview.”
“Better. I got a job.”
“What? Where? When do you start? How much does it pay?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
I lean back in my chair, watching Jordan’s silhouette move past a window. “It’s my neighbor. The doctor who lives next door. He needs help taking care of his nephew, and he hired me to teach him the basics.”
“The hot doctor neighbor?”
“I never said he was hot.”
“You didn’t have to. I’ve seen him.” A pause. “Wait—why does he need help with his nephew? Where’s the baby’s mother?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.” I take a sip of wine. “He just said he’s watching the baby for a while.”
“That’s weird, right? I mean, people don’t usually take over caring for their siblings’ kids unless something serious happened.”
“I thought the same thing. But it’s not really my business.”
“So what exactly does this job involve?”
“Teaching him how to take care of a six-month-old. Feeding, changing diapers, understanding why babies cry, that kind of thing.” I watch Jordan’s shadow move through his kitchen. “You should have seen him at the grocery store, Esme. He was completely lost. But he’s trying so hard.”
“And he’s paying you for this?”
“Fifty an hour.”
Esme whistles. “That’s really good money.”
“Too good. I tried to tell him it was too much, but he insisted.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You need this job.”
“I know. It’s just…” I trail off, not sure how to articulate the feeling that’s been growing all day.
“Just what?”
“It feels weird.”
“Weird how?”
I stare at Jordan’s house, where the kitchen light just went out. “Working for him. Living next door to him. The whole situation.”
“Hmm… What aren’t you telling me?”
I sigh. Esme has known me since high school. She can read me like a book.
“He’s… kind of awesome.”
“I knew it! Of course you would have a crush on him. He’s too hot not to. What’s he like?”
“Kind. Patient with Ash. He even likes comic books. Also, he’s completely clueless about babies but willing to learn.
” I pause, remembering the way Jordan’s face lit up when Henry smiled at him.
“He’s got this serious, professional thing going on, but then Henry will do something cute, and he gets this smile… ”
“Maybe you should go for it.”
“I can’t.” I sigh. “The last thing I want to do is make things awkward and lose the best employment opportunity I’ve had in months.”
“True,” she muses. “This sounds good, though. How long since you’ve had a positive male influence around?”
“Esme.”
“I’m serious. When’s the last time you went on a date?”
I try to remember. “Six months? Eight months?”
“That’s too long.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“You’re always busy. That’s not the same thing as not having time for yourself.”
She’s right, and I know she’s right. But dating feels like a luxury I can’t afford right now.
“Besides, even if I did have feelings for Jordan, which I’m not saying I do, he’s clearly not in a place for anything complicated. He has his hands full with Henry.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re exactly what he needs right now.”
“To take care of his nephew, yes. Anything else is just my imagination.”
“Is it, though? How did he act around you today?”
I think about the grocery store, the way Jordan seemed to hang on every word I said about baby care. The relief in his eyes when I offered to help. The way he looked at me when I got Henry to stop crying.
“Grateful. Like I was solving all his problems.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Was there anything else? Any looks? Any moments?”
I close my eyes, trying to be objective. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell when someone’s just relieved to have help.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
My gut tells me that Jordan Hadley is trouble. The kind of man I could fall for hard and fast if I let myself. My gut tells me that the way he looked at me today had nothing to do with gratitude.
“My gut tells me to focus on the job and not complicate things.”
“Your gut is boring.”
“My gut is practical. I need this job, Esme.”
“Fair point. But promise me you won’t completely close yourself off to possibilities.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You’re terrified. You’ve been terrified of getting involved with anyone since Ash’s father left.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Every guy you’ve dated since then, you’ve found reasons why it wouldn’t work out.”
I want to argue, but there’s truth in what she’s saying. I have been careful. Maybe too careful.
“Look,” Esme continues. “I’m not saying throw yourself at the man. I’m just saying, don’t assume the worst.”
“I don’t know anything. That’s the problem. Anyway, let’s move on. How was your new chiropractor?”
She humors my deflection, and we move on to other subjects. After we hang up, I sit on the porch for a few more minutes, finishing my wine. Jordan’s house is mostly dark now, just one light upstairs that I assume is his bedroom.
Part of me wants to text him, check if he needs anything, but that feels like crossing a line.
Tomorrow, I’ll go back over there and continue teaching him how to care for Henry. I’ll keep things professional and friendly. I’ll focus on the job and not on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.
I’ll ignore the fact that, for the first time in months, I have something to look forward to every day.
Standing up, I collect my empty wine glass and head inside. Ash is still sleeping on the couch, and I debate whether to wake him and send him to his room or just leave him there for the night.
I choose to leave him, covering him with an extra blanket from the linen closet. Tomorrow will come early, and I need to be ready for whatever challenges Jordan and Henry will bring.
It’s a good job. A job I need. And if there’s something else developing alongside the professional relationship, well, I’ll deal with that when I have to.