34. Julie
34
P ainting my nails is supposed to calm me down. To make me feel better.
It’s what I do to look at the bright sight of life. Today it’s serenity blue. But it’s missing its mark because it reminds me of the small specks in Jason’s eyes that dance around his irises whenever he’s laughing.
I’ve been ignoring him all day.
Used the lame excuse as I did yesterday, telling him I’m spending time with Charlotte, when she and Hunter have been out all day while I watched the kids.
Something he would have probably loved doing with me. He loves kids. Loves Logan and Lizzie. I see the way he is with them. I still remember the first time he held Logan.
Jacob and I were on another break, and I swear my ovaries turned into a full-blown marching band the second he smiled at the mini version of Hunter. Pure love was written on his face, and I don’t even wanna think about what it will do to me to see him with his own kids.
With our kids.
My throat closes up, and I deliberately blow out a breath to get rid of the ache. A quick tear blurs my vision as I stare at my nails, as I continue adding polish with a steady hand.
It’s true, though.
I wanted to murder Kayla when she called me out on it like that, but she’s right.
I love Jason. I want him to be the one waiting for me down the aisle. I want him to be the father of my children.
Spending today with the kids only solidified that. Today, at the park, I helped little Logan down the slide while Lizzie slept in her stroller, and I saw a mini version of Hunter.
A real charmer, a crooked grin, bright green eyes just like his parents. And all I could think of was how cool it would be if there was a mini version of Jason right beside him?
That’s what I want.
That’s what my heart wants.
My mind? It’s still a little on the fence, but I’m not sure I can keep this in any longer.
I have to tell him the truth.
Simply because I see what a thick wall it’s forming between us if I don’t.
First, I just need to find a way to make sure he’s not taking the fall for my mess.
“Auntie Jules?” I glance up at the toddler in the open doorway leading into the kitchen.
“Hey, little man.” I wipe away the excess moisture that manages to escape my eyes, then conjure a smile on my face. “What’s wrong?”
I close the bottle of nail polish, then dry my nails by flicking my hands through the air.
He looks utterly adorable with his red and black Hurricanes pajamas, courtesy of Uncle Jensen. His blond hair is a little tousled, his cheeks blushed from the afternoon sun.
He ambles toward me with his little feet, and I scoop him into the air until he’s sitting on the breakfast bar within the safety of my arms.
“No cry.” His tiny hands brush over my slightly tainted cheeks. “Be happy!”
Oh, the simplicity of being a child.
I laugh. “I’m happy when I see you. Why aren’t you sleeping? It’s bedtime.”
“I miss Mommy.”
My heart cracks and swells at the same time. I push my cheek against his, dragging him deeper against my body. He smells like flowery fabric softener and shampoo after his bath.
“Oh, I bet, buddy. But you know she will give you a special kiss when she gets home.”
“Really?” He beams up at me.
“Oh, yeah. Those mommy kisses are the ones that make you dream. So when you fall asleep and your dream about being a superhero or riding dinosaurs, you know your mommy is back home and gives you a special kiss.”
He takes in my words, studying my face. The ball in my throat grows to epic proportions when his green eyes narrow, as if he’s searching for my soul. This boy is going to break hearts one day, I swear.
Just like his daddy.
“Who gives you special kisses, Auntie Jules?”
I barely suppress the gasp that’s trying to break free. “I don’t know.”
His grin is wide. “We need to find one! Someone sweet!”
I chuckle, because the kid is not wrong. “Someone sweet, huh? Well, maybe I do know, then.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Uncle Jason.”
Logan bounces in my arms, thoroughly onboard with that assessment. “Yes! You call Uncle Jason and he gives you special kisses!”
Thousands of butterflies try to break through my chest when I say it, tears welling behind my eyes again.
If I could only look at life the way he does. Simple, straightforward. Raw honesty.
When did my life become so complicated?
When I look back, I don’t even really know when. A whole set of bad choices and misplaced trust got me where I am today, and I’m the only one to blame.
I should’ve told someone. I should’ve asked for help. I could’ve done it differently.
So, why don’t I? Why do I choose to climb this damn mountain by myself?
Jason trusts me. I should trust him too. I should trust that we will figure this out together without blowing everything to hell.
“You know what? That is a great idea.” I smile at him. “How about we put you to bed, and I call Uncle Jason. Can we do that?”
He nods, and I lift him onto my hip to take him back to his bedroom. His small head rests on my shoulder, and a big yawn escapes his lips.
Warmth spreads through my body like wildfire, my heart expanding with it.
Suddenly, I miss my parents, longing for the small sense of home I’ve had for the last couple of days to grow out of proportions. I’m enjoying my time in LA, especially with Jason. But it doesn’t beat the comfort and quiet I can find right here.
That simple small-town life with friends and family just a couple of blocks away.
Five minutes later, I step down the stairs with a little pep, when I notice a head of blond short hair through the window of the front door.
Excitement rushes through me, and I open the door in a hurry, grateful when my gaze connects with my favorite blues.
“Baby! I was just about to call you.”
But my excitement is gone like a popsicle falling into a frying pan. Gone before I can blink, the sudden change hitting me like a ball in the face. Pebbles trail up my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck moving up like antennas.
I study his set jaw with wide eyes trying to find anything to get rid of the knot that’s quickly forming in my stomach. But the harsh blue lines around his irises tell me enough, and when his eyes turn two shades darker, my jaw drops.
His raging gaze is aimed at me with a precision that cuts my heart in two. Disappointment weighs heavily on me, and standing there, in the front door, I feel small and alone all over again.
It’s like a deja vu I thought we were past, but the energy that’s coming my way tells me we’re anything but that.
And when he finally opens his mouth, his voice gruff and judging, I know nothing has changed in the last couple of months.
“Were you with him?” His nostrils flare, and my eyes cramp shut.
He still doesn’t trust me.