Fallon
Ikiss Bailey’s cheek as I walk into their house to drop off Harper. Fortunately, Bailey is back again as her softball coach, and they want to practice in Tanner’s batting cage before their game tonight.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
She blows out a breath. “I think I’m finally past the puking stage. I can’t believe I’m already showing.” She lifts her shirt to reveal a little baby bump. “Were you showing this early?”
I wasn’t, but I don’t want to make her feel bad. “Umm…I don’t remember. It’s kind of a blur. I was sick as a dog the whole time.”
She nods in understanding. “We’re finding out the sex soon. Do you want to come with us to the appointment?”
“Me?” I ask.
“Yes. Harper is coming. So is Kam. You should come too.”
“Please, Mommy,” Harper begs. “Come find out if I’m having a baby sister or brother. I want a sister so she can be a Queenager like me.”
Tanner moans in malcontent as he walks down the stairs. “Ugh. Did Aunt Kam teach you that word?”
She nods, and he rolls his eyes. “What does it mean, bug? I swear to god, if it’s dirty, Aunt Kam is banned from this house forever,” he spits out.
Bailey and I share amused glances. It looks like certain things haven’t changed since I moved out a few months ago.
Harper scrunches her face in annoyance. “Don’t call me bug.”
He’s called her that since she was little, and she started hating it last year. I think it depresses him that she doesn’t like it anymore. It’s like a part of her childhood is over.
“Answer the question, Harper,” he commands in an authoritative tone that used to give me goosebumps but no longer does.
“It’s not a bad word. It’s a woman with confidence and wisdom who’s allergic to nonsense. Aunt Kam says I’m a Queenager. Don’t worry, Dad, my teacher didn’t know it either.”
Bailey barks out a laugh before grabbing Harper’s hand. “Let’s go hit.” Looking at me, she says, “I’ll see you later at the game, right?”
I nod. “Yep. See you there. Have a good game, bug.”
Harper crosses her arms. “Don’t foment discord, Mommy.”
“Foment,” I mouth to Tanner as he smirks.
“I’ll…try not to…foment.”
Bailey pulls her. “Come on, little Einstein. Let’s go.”
When they disappear, I look at Tanner. “What the hell does foment mean?”
He chuckles. “It was her word of the day last week. It means to incite.”
I exhale a long breath. “That kid better get a perfect score on her SATs.”
He smiles. “No doubt.” Looking my sporty dress up and down, he asks, “Are you playing tennis again?”
I played years ago but haven’t in a long time. “No, pickleball.”
He perks up immediately. He plays now and then, though I imagine free time is hard to come by for him these days. “Are you playing with Darian? I know she and Jackson play all the time. Look out for her. She plays with ruthless aggression.”
I let out a laugh. That doesn’t surprise me at all. I briefly contemplate making something up, but I don’t make a habit of lying to him. “I’m playing with Jett.”
His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “You’re finally going out with him?”
I chew my lower lip nervously. “We’ve been quietly dating for several months. Not many people know about it. Harper has had a lot of changes recently. She’s managing well. I don’t want to rock the boat just yet.”
His face immediately softens. “I think it would be great for her to see her mother in a healthy relationship. If you two are serious, he should spend time with her.”
I nod as I consider his words. “Maybe. He’s got issues with his kids too. We’re not ready to take this public quite yet.”
He raises an unamused eyebrow. “His kids are adults. They can handle their father having a girlfriend.”
“His son has a bit of anxiety surrounding his dating. Neither he nor his ex-wife has ever introduced anyone to him. We’ll probably wait until he leaves for college at the end of the summer.”
He shakes his head. “Did anyone consider maybe he has anxiety because he’s never seen it before? That maybe it’s time to rip off the Band-Aid?”
I shrug. “Not my kid. I don’t get a vote, and honestly, Tan, if we were out and about, we’d probably be photographed. I’d rather enjoy this newer phase with some peace and quiet without outside interference.” My eyes meet his. “I’m happy. We’re happy.”
His look of concern morphs into a smile. “Well then, I’m happy. You deserve to have someone special. That fucker better treat you right.”
I let out a laugh. “He’s amazing to me. I promise.”
He nods. “Good. If you need a pickleball paddle, I have a bunch in the mudroom. Feel free to take one. You can keep it. I have a few new ones coming in this week.”
“Why so many?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Just wait until you get hit with the pickleball bug. Every time a new and exciting paddle comes along—guaranteed to make you better—you’ll buy it. I’m a sucker. We all are.”
I walk into Jett’s pickleball club and see him waiting for me in the lobby. He’s in black athletic shorts and a dark green T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, and he’s wearing a backward Beavers hat. The man is edible no matter what he’s wearing. Or not wearing.
He gives me the sexiest smile when he sees me walk in, immediately approaching me and pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes into my hair as I hear him inhale me.
I smile into his chest. “It’s been two days.”
“Two days too long.”
He so outwardly into me, never bothering to hide it. It’s refreshing. I didn’t think there were men like him out there, especially ones who look like he does.
He pulls back but keeps hold of my hand.
He’s always touching me, no matter what we’re doing.
If we’re eating, he has a hand on my leg or behind my chair while massaging my shoulder or neck.
If we’re walking, he places his arm around me or holds my hand.
If we’re watching TV, he pulls me close to cuddle.
And in bed? The passion is there. Every single time.
He worships my body as long as I’ll let him do so.
Even when we sleep, he pulls me on top of him, always wanting me close.
And cleaning me in the shower is practically an obsession for him.
“You look pretty,” he compliments. “And so damn sexy.”
I look down at the tennis dress I bought. It’s black, sleeveless, form-fitting, and very short. “Thank you.”
“How was practice this morning?” he asks as we walk further inside the club.
“Great. Your daughter is a trip. She’s honestly one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.”
He smiles. “I’m glad you two are getting along so well.” It’s better than well. She and I have become close in the past few weeks. We’ve very naturally become friends.
“Got any insider information for me?” he asks.
“I’m most definitely not your spy, Jeffries, but I’ll tell you she’s an articulate, smart, loyal, dynamic woman.
You truly did something right in raising her.
I know you like to beat yourself up, but you shouldn’t.
I’d be proud if Harper grew up to be like Kennedy.
Harper worships her. It’s cute. And Kennedy is good with her.
She gets the biggest kick out of Harper’s mouth. ”
He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for saying that. I look forward to meeting your little sparkplug. I feel like I already know her.”
“Soon,” I assure him. He’s been asking to meet Harper more and more lately.
I’m just a little hesitant, given that she’s never seen me with anyone.
Would I love to spend time with both of them at the same time?
Of course. Is it a scary proposition to bring someone into Harper’s life?
Absolutely. Being a single parent isn’t for the faint of heart.
It’s a constant balance between your needs and the needs of your child.
I’m doing my best to figure out the best timing for everyone involved.
Harper has settled in nicely to Tanner and Bailey’s marriage and the pregnancy. I’m growing more and more comfortable with the idea of her meeting Jett, but I don’t need to rush it.
We walk through rows and rows of the indoor pickleball courts. Wow, this place is bigger than it appears from the outside. And every court is full.
He previously explained the rules of pickleball to me. I may have also watched a few videos to make sure I understand everything. I know how much he loves playing. I want us to have an activity to do together.
After introducing me to a few of his pickleball friends, we get started.
“No Double Dees, you’re the second server, not the first, and it’s 5-7, not 7-5,” I yell with irritation at Jett’s annoyingly good-at-pickleball potbellied friend with the weird nickname who plays every day but doesn’t seem to understand the damn rules properly.
He smiles at me. “Young lady, they say pickleball improves memory, but I never know the score or whose serve it is. Don’t worry, it’s my last game.
I’ve been here for four hours. I had to take off my Apple Watch because it kept asking me if I needed an ambulance. That’s when I know it’s time to go.”
Jett smirks as he stands next to me in a ready position.
Here’s what I’ve learned today. Jett is a freakishly good athlete.
He plays with finesse and ease. The rest of us are dripping with sweat as we run around in crazy circles trying to get to balls, yet he’s barely broken a sweat and is the best one out here by a mile. It’s annoying.
He compliments me when it’s not warranted. I think I’ll tell his daughter about this new red flag of mine. Men who tell me I’m doing well when I’m not.
Doubles Dees serves the ball, and I hit it back into the net. I groan in annoyance. “Ugh. Motherfucker!” I shout.
Jett winks at me. “You’re doing great, angel face. Your form was perfect.”
I scowl at him. “I swear to god, if you give me any more unwarranted praise, no sex for you this week.”
He chuckles. “It’s your first time playing. Relax.”
“Helen,” the woman playing with Double Dees, “is fucking ninety-five with two knee braces, and she’s kicking my ass. This is the most humiliating day of my life.”
He grins widely.