Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MATT
Ten Weeks Until the Guardianship Hearing
My gaze drifts to Jordan sitting across from me. Laptop open. Blue-light glasses on. Completely absorbed in her work.
She looks pretty.
She always looks pretty. And living with her this past week has only made that clearer.
She hasn’t said much about her family since that night. Just a quiet shake of her head when I ask if she wants to talk about it. If she’s talked to anyone at all. I don’t push. I never have with her. Wouldn’t get me anywhere, anyway.
We both work a lot, so we haven’t had nearly as much time together as I expected now that we’re under the same roof. A few hours in the evenings and passing moments in the mornings. Some days I’m gone before I even see her.
Lately, my thoughts circle three things on repeat: work, Jordan, and Cole.
And for the last hour? It’s been Cole.
We’re on our way to Chicago for our first weekend with him, and—fuck, I’m nervous. Not about spending time with him. That part’s easy. What’s tying my chest in knots is thinking about what it means now.
I’m practically auditioning for guardianship. I’m not just his godfather anymore. I no longer get to be fun Uncle Matt, the one he sees for a few weeks over summer breaks and holidays.
My role is shifting into something it was never supposed to be. Something bigger.
I’ll always be Uncle Matt to Cole. That title just means something different now.
I let out a heavy breath, like that’ll somehow sort the chaos in my head.
I don’t know what I’m doing. Plain and simple.
I know how to be the fun guy. To spoil him senseless. Take him to the arcade, the movies, football and baseball games. I know how to make him laugh and buy him things that give him temporary joy. I know how to make him feel like my number one priority for a few days at a time.
But that’s not the same thing as raising a kid.
I don’t know shit about that.
My parents never wanted kids. I was an accident, a drunken weekend gone bad.
My nanny, Gloria, raised me. She was the one who showed up. Who corrected me. Who taught me right from wrong.
My parents never showed love by spending time with me or telling me I’d done a good job. They never disciplined me, either. The only reason I ever learned the meaning of a consequence was because of Gloria.
Then, when I was twelve, she was let go. They didn’t need her anymore, and from there on out, it was natural consequences only.
Only… not really.
Hence, the DUI with Nate.
Every real consequence I should’ve faced was softened, paid for and made to disappear. Pain and pleasure were the only things no one could take away from me. When I fought, things felt fair. When I slept with Jordan, I felt good. When I smoked pot or drank, things felt easier. Manageable.
My dad never taught me how to pivot or do better. He never taught me accountability. Never taught me about relationships or values or integrity. He didn’t give me a moral compass. Thank fuck for that, because his is broken beyond repair.
No.
All he ever taught me was how to work.
How to win.
How to take up space.
When I was a kid, I caught him watching a woman walking by, his eyes lingering, mouth already halfway to a smile. He noticed me noticing and said, You’ll understand one day.
All I understood then was that I had a mother who probably didn’t feel the same way.
I scrub a hand over my mouth, feeling the weight of it all.
This is happening.
Me and Jordan.
Husband and wife.
A united front for custody of a kid.
Shit.
It suddenly feels real in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I’m just grateful Jordan’s here and that I’m not doing this alone.
Not that she grew up with a normal blueprint either.
But if the two of us can give Cole something better than what we both got, even a fraction of what Nate gave him, I’ll consider that a win.
Nate was a man’s man. He took Cole hunting, fishing, hiking, camping, everything my father wouldn’t touch with a nine-foot pole. To my father, a man’s man was someone with power, money, and the ability to fuck anyone he wanted.
Jesus.
I truly hate the man.
My father didn’t prepare me for this day. I was only ever meant to run companies and make money.
Nate and I couldn’t be more opposite.
Nate did scouts.
I was sneaking into bars at sixteen.
Nate gave up his dream of joining the Navy to be a dad. He sacrificed.
I don’t know if I’ve ever truly given up anything. For anyone.
Maybe time. Choosing to show up for a friend instead of disappearing into work.
Oh yeah… and sex for five months.
But that’s not the same thing as giving up a dream.
It’s killing me, though… not having sex. Especially when the epitome of the perfect woman is dangling in front of me at all times.
Hence my gaze on her now.
“Hey,” I say, forcing my thoughts back to the present.
She looks up from her work. “Hey, back.”
I shift in my seat, sitting up taller. “I’m nervous,” I say. “What if we suck at this? At being…” The word feels wrong on my tongue. “Parents.”
She laughs softly. “Oh, we’ll definitely suck.”
Well, fuck. That’s not what I was expecting her to say.
“We don’t know the first thing about parenting,” she adds. “We’re not supposed to. We don’t have kids. We didn’t exactly grow up with great examples.” She pauses. “But you know what we do have?”
“What?”
“Love for Cole.”
She closes her laptop, fixing her full attention on me.
“We both love him,” she says gently. “You especially. You know Cole. And you knew Nate. That alone gives you a head start. We’ll learn as we go.” She smiles. “Be patient with yourself.”
Then she adds, teasing, “I know you’re not used to sucking at anything, but it’s okay to suck sometimes.” She shrugs. “It just means you can only get better.”
It’s not really advice. Nothing I can turn into a system or a plan, but it loosens something in my chest.
“Thanks,” I say, the furrow in my brow softening.
We’ll have a lot to figure out this weekend. The domestic reality of living together with a kid. Two extra people in my Chicago place, which suddenly feels a lot smaller than my New York penthouse. Less space. Fewer escape routes. Harder to get distance if one of us needs it.
Which reminds me—
I reach into my backpack and grab my wallet, pulling out the credit card I ordered for her the day after she agreed to this. I hold it out. “Got this for you. Buy whatever you want for Chicago, essentials, clothes, shoes. Whatever you need so you don’t have to keep packing a bag.”
She hesitates, and I wave my hand like it’s not up for debate. She reluctantly takes it.
“Thank you,” she says slowly. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to.” I lean back. “I want to… And babe?”
Her brow lifts.
“When I say buy whatever you want, I don’t mean just what you need for a weekend.” A smirk tugs at my mouth. “I mean whatever you want. Have fun. Designer bags. Shoes. The whole thing.” I pause, watching her. “You’re my wife now. It’s about time I had someone to spend all this money on.”
“But I’m not really your wife.”
“Well, according to the state of New York you are.”
“Well, if New York says so… then who am I to argue?” She smiles, then sobers. “Seriously, though. Thank you. I won’t go crazy.”
“Babe, if you don’t go full-on Pretty Woman this afternoon and come back with armfuls of shopping bags,” I say, barely hiding my grin, “you’re gonna get a red ass.”
She laughs.
It’s something I used to say back when we were friends—with all the benefits I don’t have anymore. She’d usually fire back with something smart like, Oh no, I’m so scared. Or, Can’t decide if that’s a punishment or a reward.
But this time, she just laughs and shakes her head. A reminder that what we are now isn’t the same as before.
And yet, I still feel just as close to her as I ever have.
Jordan rings the doorbell, then slips her fingers through mine as we wait.
Cece opens the door a moment later. She doesn’t greet us with words, just a tight-lipped smile that makes me feel like I’m the last person on earth she’d want standing on her porch.
“Hey,” I say, attempting politeness.
“Hi, Cece.” Jordan’s voice is bright and warm. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Christ. She’s already so much better at this than I am.
Cece’s lips curve just enough to make me feel slightly less hated.
It lasts about three seconds.
Her gaze sweeps over Jordan, neutral. I can’t tell if she’s judging, approving, or quietly plotting our deaths. She exhales as her eyes drop to our hands, intertwined, Jordan’s diamond glinting from her ring finger.
Finally, she speaks, her tone mildly amused. “Yes. I remember you. From the funeral.” A pause. “And from when the boys were teenagers.”
It’s not unkind. Not kind either. Just… factual. Like she’s too tired to assign emotion to it.
“Cole’s inside. I’ll go get him.”
I step forward instinctively. The door shuts right in my face.
“Oh my God,” Jordan whispers. “She’s intimidating.”
I scoff softly. “Yeah. And to think when I was younger, she used to be cool Aunt Cece.”
The door swings open again. Cece’s still there, but now Cole’s coming down the hall with a duffel slung over his shoulder. He smiles when he sees us, mostly because Jordan’s here, I’m sure.
“Hey, buddy,” I call.
“Hey, Matt. Hey, Jordan.”
He pauses by the door, then turns back. “Bye, Grandma.”
“Bye, Cole.” She pulls him into a side hug. “I’ll see you Sunday. If you need me, anything at all, I’m just a phone call away.”
I’m about to say he’ll have me, when Cole answers for me.
“I won’t,” he says. “See you later.”
He steps onto the porch, and Jordan greets him with a smile. “Hey, bud.” She holds out her fist, and Cole bumps it with his own, a small grin sneaking onto his mouth. “You ready for a fun weekend?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He turns to me. “Can I bring one of my gaming systems? Grandma said I have to ask you.”
I can feel Cece’s eyes on me, like she purposefully set this up to see how I’d respond. “How about we grab one on the way home? That way you don’t have to haul it back and forth when you come to my place.”
I glance at Jordan, who’s smiling, then back at Cece. She’s frowning and shaking her head.
Shit. Guess I failed that one.
“Cool,” Cole says, voice perking up. “Should I go get my games then?”
I know what she’s thinking—that I’ll let him game all weekend. That I’ll spoil him. That I won’t spend quality time with him. Only one of those is true.
“Nah,” I reply. “We’ll grab whatever you need.” My eyes flick to Cece’s disapproving stare. “But we’ve got fun plans for the weekend, too. So maybe just an hour a day, alright?” I pause. “And Sunday we’re going over to Jensen and Alley’s.”
“Awesome,” he says, grinning.
He looks back at his grandma one more time, then brushes past us and heads straight for the car, climbing into the backseat without another word.
Cece’s stare hardens into a glare. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Be patient with him,” she says, like she’s suddenly an expert after spending a total of three weeks with him. “He’s been moody and emotional.”
“Makes sense, since his dad just died.” It comes out more sarcastic than I mean it to.
Cece doesn’t flinch. “He cries when he’s alone in his room. He thinks I don’t know. But I do.” She pauses. “I’m just letting you know.”
I stare at her for a beat, letting the weight of that sink in. And it cracks something open in my chest.
“Thanks for telling us,” I say quietly. And I mean it. I’m thankful for the honesty. For the peace offering. For her caring enough about him to sidestep however she feels about me.
Her expression shifts, an eyebrow lifting. “I also know what you’re doing.”
My jaw tightens.
“With the whole marriage thing.” Her eyes drop to Jordan’s hand tangled in mine, to the diamond on her finger.
“How convenient for you to show up to the funeral suddenly married.” Her gaze shifts to Jordan.
“I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into,” she says flatly.
“Matthew has always done what benefits him first.” She gives Jordan a once-over.
“I can see how this arrangement would be very beneficial for him.”
My blood heats, ready to snap back, but Jordan speaks first.
“I’ve known Matt my whole life, Cece,” she says calmly.
“And he’s the least selfish person I know.
” Her grip tightens around my hand. “We’re married because we love each other.
We have for a long time. We also love Cole, and if bumping up our ceremony by a year, and wanting Cole to have a stable, loving family, makes us bad people—then I guess that’s what we are.
” She huffs out a breath. “Thanks for having Cole ready. We’ll be here Sunday at five to drop him off. ”
With that, she turns and walks to the car, leaving me to scrape my jaw off the front porch.