Chapter Fifteen
With Ellie not due until seven, Jack spent a leisurely Saturday morning at home, then headed over to Logan and Kathleen’s.
Kathleen had offered Logan the basement to use as a shop in exchange for first dibs on the trash Logan had a habit of bringing home and turning into treasure.
And Jack had offered to help with the wiring, since many of said projects turned out to be joint efforts.
When he arrived, the whole house smelled like a bakery—yeasty and warm. “What magic is this?” he asked Kathleen after kissing her cheek. “And more importantly, do I get some?”
Kathleen smiled. “I got bored when we were snowed in and made bread.”
“And now she’s obsessed,” Logan said, emerging from the basement.
“I’m not obsessed,” Kathleen said.
Logan raised a brow. “Three loaves in three days?”
Kathleen smiled with the affection of a woman so in love she didn’t mind being teased. “Maybe a little obsessed.”
“I’d point out that not all obsessions are bad,” Jack said.
Logan raised a hand. “Yeah, I’m definitely not complaining over here.”
Kathleen jutted her hip, bumping it to Logan’s. “You can complain when I jump on the sourdough train and start fussing over my starter like a baby.”
Logan laughed. “If it means I get fresh bread on the regular, I’ll feed it and change its diaper.”
“And I’ll babysit.” It made Jack happy to know Logan and Kathleen had arrived at a place of joking about such things.
Babies, not bread. It had been a source of tension and almost unraveled their relationship.
Well, not actual babies. Just talking about them.
How was it that talking about hard things turned reasonable and sane adults into zombies?
He might not win any relationship trophies, but that seemed foundational for anything of substance.
“I’ll keep both those things in mind. Today, however, we have a nice ciabatta and some minestrone.” Kathleen tipped her head toward the table she’d already set. “Grab your bowl. We’re serving from the stove.”
Jack had two bowls of soup and three big chunks of bread, each smeared with more butter than would qualify as reasonable.
He told himself it was because he was still running at a deficit from his time with Ellie—all that physical activity plus not wanting to wipe out her entire food supply.
Really, though, Kathleen was a phenomenal cook, and he simply didn’t want to stop.
Plus, he needed energy for later. Working in the basement, sure, but also another night with Ellie.
If their first time was anything to go on, he’d need all the strength and stamina he could muster.
He debated telling Logan as much when they headed down to the basement, but he couldn’t think of a way to broach the subject that didn’t make him feel like a lothario.
Fortunately, Logan launched into a series of stories about their friend Leah’s baby, which turned into a discussion of Maddie and Sy and gratitude that their plan to get married and have babies took the pressure off them for the time being.
Which led to updates about Uncle Rich and his impending nuptials.
“I’m just glad Cherry talked him out of selling his half of the business to the first willing buyer,” Logan said.
“Yeah, we could have found ourselves up shit creek.” Jack shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of my future being susceptible to a guy thinking with his Viagra prescription.”
Logan let out a snort. “Seriously.”
He grimaced. “Not a mental picture I need, thank you.”
“Hey, older people deserve a rich and satisfying sex life as much as the rest of us.”
“They absolutely do. That doesn’t mean I want to think about the specifics.
Especially when one of the parties is Uncle Rich.
” Rich had one of those overly friendly salesmen vibes that counted as a plus in his line of work, but it made Jack feel gross after spending more than a couple of hours with him.
“I’ll give you that,” Logan said.
Rich and Cherry had come up to Vermont to meet the family and drive Rich’s car back down to Florida.
But what everyone thought would be a quick and dirty sell-off of Rich’s life had turned into Cherry falling in love with New England and discussions of whether they could swing a semi-retired snowbird lifestyle.
A win for everyone, at least in the short term.
Jack and his siblings, along with their parents, still spent most staff meetings discussing if, how, and when they’d be able to buy out Rich’s half.
Logan and Jack rehashed a version of that conversation, then slipped seamlessly into companionable silence.
It was their unspoken pattern when working together—catching up and chewing the fat, then taking a breather.
It satisfied Logan’s need for interaction without sending Jack’s introverted self into overload.
Jack installed new breakers on the panel while Logan tacked wire to the exposed beams and joists.
Jack connected the new outlets; Logan followed behind, securing them in the boxes and screwing on plate covers.
In a matter of hours, they’d added eight new outlets, installed half a dozen can lights, and expanded the electrical load of the house by twenty percent.
Jack tucked his tools away while Logan surveyed the results. “I had a bet with Kathleen that we’d finish in one day,” Logan said.
“Did she think we wouldn’t?”
Logan tipped her head back and forth. “She figured we’d get distracted by my recent estate sale finds that I want your help with.”
“There are finds? I wasn’t told there were finds.” He stuck out both hands. “Show me these finds.”
She laughed. “See?”
“Yeah, but we got our work done. We earned some play.” Jack lifted his chin toward the pile Logan had assembled in the corner. “Let’s play.”
Logan made a sweeping gesture. “After you.”
The finds consisted of a few lamps, a vintage tabletop greenhouse, and a side table whose top could be flipped to reveal a chess board.
Not all required his expertise but all things he’d be happy to get his hands on.
They sorted and prioritized, and Jack pulled out a couple of the lamps to take home for rewiring.
“I’ll bring them back and you can make them not hideous,” he said.
“Deal.” Logan grinned. “Hey, do you want to stick around for dinner, too? I’m sure Kathleen’s not sick of you yet.”
“I can’t,” Jack said.
Logan scowled. “Why not?”
“Hot date.”
“You can’t call it a hot date if it’s with your dogs,” Logan said without missing a beat. She knew him too well.
“I’ll have you know I have plans with an actual human female.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Is it Mom?”
“No,” he said, slightly offended, though he’d tried that move at least once in the past.
“Oh. Clover, then. Tell her I said hi.”
Irritated on principle if nothing else, he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “It’s someone I’ve recently had sex with.”
Logan’s mouth fell open. “You slept with Clover? Dude.”
Though he and Clover had a certain chemistry—that plenty of people had picked up on throughout the years—they’d never acted on it.
Mostly because their relationship philosophies couldn’t be more different.
Clover embraced a solo poly identity with strains of relationship anarchy thrown in.
Jack appreciated that in theory but considered it far too much work to maintain.
So much seeking out of people and making new connections. Blech. “I did not sleep with Clover.”
“That’s a relief.” Logan laughed. “Not that I don’t love you both. So, who was—wait.”
Since Logan seemed perfectly happy to have a one-directional conversation, Jack wasn’t about to stop her. He folded his arms and waited for her to continue.
“Ellie. The artist. The one you were stuck with.” Logan nodded slowly. “Who’s best friends with your new tenant.”
He neither confirmed nor denied, content to let his sister marinate in her theories for a moment.
“Yes?” Logan asked. “Am I right?”
Jack blinked, his version of a reluctant confirmation.
Though, really, he wasn’t all that reluctant.
For all his grumbling, he wasn’t opposed to a night of mutual enjoyment with a woman he found attractive.
And however annoying he found his siblings from time to time, he shared the details of his life with them and loved that they did the same.
“She’s beautiful.” Logan frowned. “But I thought she got on your nerves.”
“She’s cool. Just, you know, perky.”
“Right, right. Grumpy and sunshine.” Logan nodded knowingly. “Did she wear you down with her good mood or did you find a way to bring out her inner bah, humbug?”
His mind conjured the highlight reel of the hours leading up to tearing each other’s clothes off. “I’d say we met in the middle. With wine.”
Logan laughed. “Who doesn’t love a little social lubrication?”
He didn’t make a point of relying on it, but he didn’t turn his nose up at it, either.
“You cooking?” Logan asked.
Jack feigned offense. “Do you have to ask?”
“Let me rephrase. What are you cooking?”
He’d considered just about everything in his repertoire—not professional caliber but varied enough to keep himself well fed and impress when the moment presented itself.
Cooking for a date was tricky. He wanted the meal to be nice but not heavy.
Not helping his plight was the meager selection of good produce at this time of year.
“Risotto with asparagus and peas.” Neither were in season locally yet, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Nice.”
It had worked for him in the past. Not that he was keeping score. “I do what I can.”
“You know, it’s a good thing you don’t put in more of an effort on a regular basis. The women would be falling at your feet.”
The thought sent a shudder through him, this evening’s company notwithstanding. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
Logan chuckled. “There’s the Jack I know and love.”
He let out a simpering laugh.
“I hope it goes well for you. And I hope this Ellie gives you a run for your money.”
* * *
After spending the morning at Riverdale Estates, Ellie headed back to Hampstead House for a full-body pamper. Even though it added to her driving around time, she liked the reset, allowing her to shift gears from the version of herself she showed her mom to the one she was the rest of the time.
She dillydallied with makeup and dawdled over what to wear before settling on a plum-colored sweater dress, black leggings, and ankle boots.
Casual, but nicer—not to mention more feminine—than what Jack typically saw her in.
Plus, since she’d be spending the afternoon with Rhett, it wouldn’t get her too much ribbing in the meantime.
Rhett greeted her with a big hug hello and compliments about the clingy fabric accentuating her boobs.
Not ribbing, exactly, but so totally Rhett.
They caught up on the odds and ends of life.
Rhett had contracted with a couple of new shops to carry her pottery and successfully fended off an invitation to the gender reveal party for her sister’s new baby.
“I’ve never been so grateful for twelve hundred miles,” Rhett said with a shudder.
“I’m rarely grateful to be an only child, but that might count as a tick in the column.”
“So,” Rhett said, promising an unsubtle conversation shift. “Is it weird to come hang out with me, then go next door to get laid?”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Ellie grinned and sipped her tea, then shook her head. “No. Not weird.”
“It’s a rather poly arrangement, if you think about it. Though I’m not sure which of us is the metamour.”
She rolled her eyes. “Neither of us is. Not unless I start sleeping with you or you start sleeping with Jack.”
Rhett made a face. “Yeah. Bad analogy. I take it back.”
“But I appreciate you playing emotional support human to both of us.” She’d decided to frame it that way in her mind rather than get bogged down in the weeds of potential weirdness.
“It’s a great distraction from the train wreck of my love life.” Rhett cringed. “Or thinking about what Gillian is doing right now.”
Ellie curled her lip. She’d stopped cussing at every mention of Rhett’s ex—at Rhett’s insistence—but she couldn’t let it go completely. “Being a narcissistic jerk face, probably.”
Rhett gave her a stern look.
“What? She is. Best friend prerogative allows me to say that even if you’ve decided to be graceful about everything.”
“She’s just living her truth.”
Ellie had a plethora of opinions about that categorization, but rehashing them didn’t seem to make Rhett feel better. She opted to change the subject instead. “Speaking of living one’s truth, do you think it might be time to wade back in?”
Rhett shook her head with force. “Nope.”
Ellie covered Rhett’s hand with her own. “There are a lot of amazing women out there who aren’t Gillian.”
“I know. And I will meet some of them and date some of them and maybe even settle down with one or two of them. I’m just not there yet. I promise I won’t check out completely.”
She let out a sigh and, since some things bore repeating, said, “Fucking Gillian.”
Rhett smiled, and there almost wasn’t any sadness riding with it. “Fucking Gillian.”
They sat in silence for a minute. The ability to do that was one of her favorite things about being friends with Rhett, since it didn’t come naturally to her.
“All right,” Rhett said eventually. “No fucking for me since I’m still getting over fucking Gillian, but Jack is waiting and I imagine the fucking will be fucking fantastic, so you should go.”
Ellie laughed even as her heart ached for what Rhett had been through and would continue to go through for the foreseeable future. “I am, but I’m channeling so much good energy into the universe to heal your heart and make you better than ever.”
Rhett sighed. “Thanks.”
She stood. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“More than I know a lot of things.” Rhett made a shooing motion. “Now get. Let me get laid vicariously through you, in the most platonic and non-creepy way possible.”
“I hope you have a good night,” she said as she slipped into her shoes and grabbed the jacket she didn’t bother putting on.
“I will. Just don’t be too loud, okay?”
Ellie cringed. “I’ll do my best.”
“That good, huh?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, good. You deserve it.”
She wanted to say something about Rhett deserving it, too, but held back. For now, at least. “Thanks.”
“And don’t worry about keeping it down. I’ll put in my earbuds and spend my evening in blissful oblivion.”
She thought about what she and Jack got up to in the less than ideal setup she had at Hampstead House—cramped bed, minimal heat, plus having to overcome the exhaustion of the day and the bottle of wine they’d downed.
At the risk of jinxing herself, she expected tonight to be even better.
And she wasn’t afraid to own it. She went to the door but turned to blow Rhett a kiss. “You’re the best.”
“You are, too.”
She waved goodbye and let herself out, making the twenty-foot trek from Rhett’s front door to Jack’s.