Chapter 12
ALEXA
The baby swing creaks gently as Jordan gives Henry another careful push. It’s a perfect Monday morning at Riverside Park, warm sunshine filtering through the trees while other parents and nannies chase toddlers around the playground.
“Look at him go,” Jordan says, his face transformed by the biggest smile I’ve seen from him yet. Henry giggles with pure delight, his eyes wide with wonder at the gentle swaying motion.
I watch Jordan talk to Henry in a soft voice about the trees and the other children playing nearby.
There’s something so naturally paternal about the scene that it makes my chest feel warm.
After dropping Ash off at school this morning, I suggested the park trip, thinking the fresh air would be good for all of us. I was right.
“You two are getting the hang of this,” I tell him.
“I’m starting to think maybe I’m not entirely hopeless.” Jordan gives Henry another gentle push. “Having you help has made all the difference.”
Before I can respond, a woman walking past with her own toddler pauses beside us. “What a beautiful family you have,” she says with a warm smile. “Your son is adorable.”
My face immediately heats up. “Oh, we’re not…”
“Thank you,” Jordan says smoothly, saving me from my stumbling explanation. The woman smiles and continues on her way with her child.
The moment stretches between us, heavy with implications neither of us seems ready to address. Jordan focuses intently on Henry, while I study the ground like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“I should probably get him out of the swing,” Jordan says finally. “Don’t want to overdo it on his first time.”
We spend another hour at the park, with Henry contentedly watching other children play from his stroller. Jordan seems more relaxed than I’ve seen him, laughing when Henry reaches for a butterfly that lands briefly on the stroller handle.
“This was exactly what we needed,” he says as we start walking back to the car. “Thank you for suggesting it.”
“Anytime.”
As we’re loading Henry back into his car seat, Jordan’s expression becomes more serious. “I hate to ask again, but would you be able to watch Henry for a few hours this afternoon? I have something I need to take care of.”
There it is again. The vague reference to something he needs to do, without any details about what or where.
“Of course. Same as yesterday?”
“If that works for you. I should be back by five.”
I want to ask where he’s going. What’s so important that he needs to leave Henry behind twice in two days? But the guarded look is back in his eyes, and I know he won’t tell me even if I ask.
“That’s fine. I’ll probably take him back to my house again. Ash will want to see him when he gets home from school.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Alexa. Really.”
A few hours later, I’m sitting on my kitchen floor with Henry, showing him the sensory board I stayed up making last night.
Colored ribbons, different textured fabrics, a small mirror, and some simple wooden shapes attached to a piece of cardboard.
It’s nothing fancy, but Henry seems fascinated by the variety of things to touch and explore.
“Careful with that knife, Ash,” Esme says from the counter, guiding his hands as he slices mozzarella for the lasagna. “Nice, even pieces.”
I couldn’t sleep last night, my mind too busy replaying every interaction I’ve had with Jordan over the past few days.
The way he looked when he left yesterday evening, withdrawn and tired.
The careful way he avoids talking about Henry’s mother or where he disappears to in the afternoons.
The mystery of what’s really going on in his life.
So, I’d gotten up and made a sensory board, thinking it would help Henry’s development and give my restless hands something to do.
“Alexa, this is amazing,” Esme says, glancing down from where she and Ash are layering pasta and cheese. “You made this last night?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something productive.”
Ash chatters happily as he works alongside Esme, telling her about his day at school.
“Can Henry watch us cook?” Ash asks, carefully spreading ricotta across a layer of noodles.
“As long as you’re careful around the stove,” I tell him, settling into the corner with Henry on my lap.
Watching Ash and Esme work together makes my insides happy. This feels like family in a way that’s both comforting and slightly heartbreaking. Since my grandmother died, all I really have are friends. God knows I’m not about to call my parents up for anything.
I don’t even know where they are at this point. For all I know, they aren’t even in Boston anymore. Maybe they aren’t even alive.
The thought is sobering but not worth my time. Ash is what’s important, and he needs more adults in his life who care about him—and Esme has always been wonderful with him.
The awkward moment at the park today keeps replaying in my mind.
That woman assuming Jordan and I were a family, that Henry was our son.
My face had heated up while Jordan had smoothly thanked her and moved the conversation along.
But I can’t help thinking about what she saw—two adults caring for a child together, looking like we belonged that way.
The lasagna is in the oven when Jordan knocks on the front door. I can see him through the window, looking tired again but trying to hide it.
“Perfect timing,” I say, opening the door. “We’re just about to eat dinner. Join us.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“Jordan!” Ash appears behind me before I can finish the invitation. “Stay for dinner! Esme and I made lasagna.”
Jordan looks at me questioningly, and I nod. “Seriously, there’s plenty. And I’d like you to meet my best friend.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.”
Dinner is easier than I expected. Esme charms Jordan with questions about his work that aren’t too personal, and Ash keeps everyone entertained with stories from school.
Jordan seems more relaxed than he was yesterday, laughing at Ash’s impression of his math teacher and asking thoughtful questions about Esme’s life.
“So you’re in oncology?” Esme asks, passing the breadsticks to Jordan. “That must be incredibly challenging work.”
“It can be,” Jordan agrees, serving himself some greens. “But it’s also rewarding. When treatment works, when patients beat the odds…” He pauses, taking a bite. “It makes the career worth it.”
“Do you miss it?” I ask, then immediately worry that the question is too personal. “Being at work, I mean. You’ve been off for a few days now.”
Jordan’s expression shifts slightly, becoming more guarded. “Sometimes. I miss my patients, my colleagues. But Henry needs me right now.”
“Jordan knows everything about comic books,” Ash announces, clearly eager to steer the conversation toward more interesting topics. “He has first-edition X-Men comics.”
“Really?” Esme looks impressed. “Those must be worth a fortune.”
“They’re worth more to me for sentimental reasons,” Jordan says with a small smile. “My sister and I collected them when we were kids. They remind me of better times.”
“That’s sweet,” Esme says. “Do you and your sister still collect together?”
“Not lately,” Jordan says quietly, then quickly changes the subject. “Ash, who’s your favorite superhero?”
“Spider-Man, obviously. But I know you like Iron Man because of the science stuff.”
“The technology is fun,” Jordan agrees, seeming more at ease discussing fictional characters than his real life. “The idea of using advanced engineering to solve problems, to help people… I like that.”
“Sounds like what you do as a doctor,” I observe. “Using science and technology to help people.”
Jordan considers this. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to Tony Stark’s character.”
“Plus, he’s rich and good-looking,” Ash adds with a grin, making everyone laugh.
“Those are definitely bonuses,” Jordan agrees, ruffling Ash’s hair.
“What about you, Alexa?” Esme asks. “Any secret superhero preferences?”
“Wonder Woman,” I say without hesitation. “Single mom, incredible strength, saves the world while looking amazing. What’s not to love?”
“Single mom?” Jordan looks confused for a moment.
“In some of the storylines,” Ash explains seriously. “She raises her daughter, Fury, all by herself while being part of the Justice League.”
“Ah.” Jordan nods, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression as he looks at me. “That does sound like someone to admire.”
The conversation flows easily after that, moving from superheroes to Ash’s latest book he’s reading, to Esme’s upcoming Alaska trip with her family.
But I catch Esme watching Jordan carefully throughout the meal, her expression thoughtful in a way that tells me she’s picking up on the same undercurrent of stress that I’ve noticed.
Jordan helps clear the table despite my protests, and then reluctantly gathers Henry’s things.
“Thank you for dinner,” he says as I walk him to the door. “This was exactly what I needed after today.”
“Bad day?”
“Just… complicated. But this helped. Really.”
I watch him cross the yard to his house, Henry in his arms, noting the tired slope of his shoulders. Whatever he’s dealing with, it’s wearing on him more than he wants to admit.
“Okay,” Esme says as soon as I close the door and Ash is in his bedroom. “What’s his story?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re right. Something is definitely bothering him.” She settles back on the couch, crossing her legs. “He’s charming and clearly adores Henry, but there’s something underneath it all. Something he’s not talking about.”
I sit down beside her, relieved to finally have someone else acknowledge what I’ve been sensing. “You noticed it too?”
“Hard to miss. He gets this look sometimes, like his mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere not happy.” Esme studies my face. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“None. He disappears every afternoon for hours without saying where he’s going. He never mentions Henry’s mother. And yesterday, he looked like someone had run over his dog.”
“Have you asked him about it?”
“It’s not my place. I’m his employee, not his friend.” Even as I say it, I’m not sure it’s true anymore. The lines have been blurring since that first day.
“Well, employee or not, he’s clearly going through something difficult,” Esme says. “And you care about him.”
She’s right, and we both know it. But admitting it out loud feels like crossing a line I’m not ready to cross.
“He’s going through something,” I say finally. “Something difficult. And I wish I could help, but I don’t know how.”
“Maybe just being there is help enough. Sometimes that’s all someone needs.”
As I get ready for bed later that night, I think about what Esme said. About being there being enough. About the way Jordan looked at dinner when Ash made him laugh, like he’d forgotten whatever was weighing on him for just a moment.
Maybe I can’t solve whatever’s wrong in Jordan’s life, but I can keep showing up, keep taking care of Henry, keep creating moments where Jordan can smile instead of carrying that guarded, worried expression.
Maybe that’s enough for now.