Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Boone
Oof.
I sit up slowly. My muscles scream as I move them, protesting the fact that I slept on the couch last night.
I’ve never been a couch sleeper. My mother was a stickler about sleeping in our beds when I was a child, and it’s something I’ve always done.
The only time I sleep on the sofa is if I’m extremely hungover.
And if I have a woman and a child in my bed, apparently.
If the spare room with a bed wasn’t covered in things I should’ve thrown away months ago, I could’ve slept there.
I groan.
The night was long and quiet. Jaxi retreated into herself after Rosie went to sleep, sitting at the kitchen table with a notepad and pen. We all three had dinner together and turned on a movie about a mermaid, but Rosie fell asleep again, and Jaxi laid down with her.
I haven’t seen either one of them since.
The sun barely peeks over the horizon as I get my bearings. I stretch my arms overhead and slowly get to my feet. My body is heavy but so is my head.
Sleep was hard to find last night. I just kept thinking about so many things over and over again. Jaxi’s shock at the fact that her sister died. The trepidation in Rosie’s face as she realized she was going home with us. The feeling of her little hand on mine as she began to warm up to us.
And the fact that I’m thinking about this whole situation, our trio, as us.
I run my hands down my face and groan.
What have I gotten myself into?
I’m not prepared for this whole thing. I’m Boone Mason, the proverbial bachelor. I thrive on low expectations and no responsibility.
I can’t even pay my security bill, which led to this whole damn thing.
Still, I’m not mad about it. I didn’t go to bed or wake up this morning feeling like I fucked all the way up. If I had, I wouldn’t be so worried about this. It would feel normal. Not feeling that way only makes me more concerned for my well-being.
I just can’t forget the picture of Rosie’s little face looking at me from the door of a police station. It was so wrong, so heartbreaking. No child should ever have to go through that.
“You are fucked. You are so fucked,” I sing softly as I walk into the kitchen. “Only you’re not fucked because fucking brings clarity, and you can’t think clearly.”
I whistle a beat that the words could go to like I know something about music and pop a pod into the coffee maker. I hit the brew button and start toward the fridge for some cream.
My attention is grabbed by a yellow legal pad sticking out from under a magazine on the table. Unable to contain my curiosity like a grown man should, I peer at the words written in neat handwriting.
To-Do:
Pediatrician / therapy?
Groceries
Job
Car ($5K max!)
Daycare?
Bed, clothes, toys (?)
Housing (where?)
Me clothes.
What about healthcare?
I lift the notepad and read through the list again. My heart crumbles.
This is what she’s worried about? Shit.
I’ve never once worried about any of that stuff.
Even after spending the day with Rosie yesterday, most of that didn’t occur to me either.
Sure, I knew we needed groceries because eating out with a child probably isn’t the healthiest, and I knew we would have to get Rosie some things to help her get situated.
But healthcare? A doctor? A car?
I drop the notepad to the table. I never thought about the fact that Jaxi doesn’t have a car. I didn’t even know that Rosie needed a car seat until Sergeant Bordeaux showed me how to set it up in my car. Thank God Kurt thought to send it with Rosie and Nettie’s things.
My life spins around me, taunting me with how little I know. How much of life I don’t take seriously.
Ignoring the click of the Keurig, I march back to the couch and retrieve my phone. I find the number and press call.
“Boone? What’s wrong, honey? It’s so early.”
“Mom?”
She laughs sleepily. “What other woman is answering your mother’s phone? Do I need to have a talk with your father?”
“Good point.”
Dad mumbles in the distance.
“Oh, be quiet, Rodney,” she says. “I’m getting up. Hang on, Boone.”
I pace back and forth until the coffee aroma drags me to the kitchen. I get my mug and add some creamer before Mom comes back on the line.
“Okay. I can talk now,” she says. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think so.” I take a sip for sustenance. “I met a girl.”
“Okay …”
“Not like that. Well, I don’t think like that.” I reconsider. “No, I didn’t meet a girl like that, but I might like her—I do like her. She’s great. But that’s not what this is about. I can handle that shit.”
“It’s a little early for cursing in a conversation with your mother and on a Sunday morning, no less. But continue.”
I roll my eyes. “She sold all her shit—stuff to move to Hawaii for a job and was staying at Libby’s next door.
But Ted was fucking—sleeping with someone, so Libby left him.
Anyway,” I say, trying to get to the point, “she has nowhere to stay and just found out her sister died and that she left behind a little girl named Rosie.”
I pause to take a breath. The line grows quiet.
“Mom?”
“I’m just waiting on you to finish,” she says.
“I’m finished. I just … This isn’t my wheelhouse, Mom. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if I did the right thing. Jaxi needs actual adult help, and I don’t know that I can give her that.”
Mom laughs.
“This isn’t funny,” I tell her. “You know what? Oliver is right. I’m impulsive. I’m the king of it. But what was I supposed to do? Send them to the streets?”
“No, honey. You were supposed to do whatever you did, which I assume by the slight panic in your voice is that you let them stay with you.”
“You would assume correctly.”
She laughs softly. “So what is the level of your relationship with the woman? Are you seeing her? Acquaintances? Friends?”
“I’d like to be fucking her if—”
“Boone Michael Mason, this is your last warning.”
I grin. “Sorry. I’d like to be procreating with her except not actually making children if there wasn’t already a child in my bed as we speak.” I raise my mug to my lips. “Better?”
“Oh, Boone.” She sighs. “Okay. So you like the woman. What’s her name?”
“Jaxi.”
“Cute. So we have Jaxi and Rosie?”
“Yes, Mom,” I say, getting impatient.
“And for what am I being summoned?”
It’s my turn to sigh. “I don’t know. This isn’t something I do. This is something Oliver does.”
“Actually, you’re wrong. Oliver wouldn’t do this. He’d pay for them to go to a hotel, but he wouldn’t let them stay in his house. This is absolutely a you thing to do.”
“Nope.”
She laughs. “Well, you did it, so I’m taking that as a point in my favor.”
I shrug. “So, I guess I’m not coming to dinner today because we’re going to need to get a bed and some things for Rosie,” I say, glancing at the table. “We need groceries and, like, toys, I guess. She might need a watch.”
“How old is she?”
“Rosie is four.”
Mom laughs again, louder this time. “She doesn’t need a watch, Boone. She needs a doll.”
“She likes my watch,” I say, watching the light reflect off the face of mine in the sunlight.
Mom’s coffee maker kicks on in the background. I lean against the counter and take another drink.
She’s right. Rosie doesn’t need a watch. That was a dumb idea. But I still want to get her one, which is even dumber. I can imagine her wearing a little rose gold band on her wrist and stopping every few feet to look at the face.
The thought makes me smile.
“Would you and Jaxi be upset if I came over to help you today?” she asks.
“It’s Sunday dinner day.”
“Maybe we could have it at your house. We could all bring something over and help your guests get settled in. I know Blaire and Bellamy would love to help. Oliver and Wade will come to eat, and we can get them to help us put things together. It would be fun.”
I take another sip. “I do love watching them have to do what you say.”
She blows out an amused breath. “You know that acts of service is my love language. It would thrill me to death to get to shop for a little girl—especially since my sons refuse to give me grandkids.”
“Coy knocked up Bells. You’re getting one.”
“And that will be the only one if the rest of you don’t get on board.”
“That’s not what we need to get on, Mother.”
She acts shocked, but we both know it’s a lie.
I chuckle. “I’m not going to argue with you because we both know you’re already mentally planning this entire thing out.”
“I am. Does three this afternoon sound good? That will give us time to eat and to get everything set up. And to get back to the store if we miss anything.”
“Yeah. Like there will be something you miss.”
“You’re right. I won’t.” She seems pleased with herself. “Is that all you need me for? If so, I’m going to look at what’s available for little girls these days. Does she like anything in particular?”
I think. “Puppies. Watches. Cake. Mermaids?”
Mom laughs. “The fact that you know that just fills me with joy.”
“Don’t you dare tell Oliver.”
Her laughter grows. “I’ll see you this afternoon. If you need something specifically, text me.”
“I love you, Mommy.”
“Love you, baby boy.”
I sit back and take another long drink of my coffee.
And that’s how you get shit done.
I’m thinking about which of the two guest rooms to let Rosie have—the one full of shit or the one I use as a workout room—when a noise at the doorway makes me jump.
“You scared the fuck out of me,” I say as Jaxi comes around the corner.
Her eyes are as wide as plates. “You scared me. I didn’t know you were up. Coffee?”
“Over there.”
I watch her walk around the island with the shortest shorts barely covering her behind. The thin fabric hangs off the globes of her ass. Each step she takes causes the fabric to ride up and almost gives me a glimpse of the curve from her bottom to her thigh.
Fuck. Me.
She disposes of my used coffee pod and puts another in the machine.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie. “You?”
“Yeah.”
I think she’s lying too.