Chapter 33
JULES
I’m waiting on the cracked sidewalk with a smile when Cameron bursts out the elementary school doors and comes running toward me.
The little boy nearly knocks me off my feet when he jumps into my arms with a big hug. I catch him, his weight settling against my chest as I squeeze him back.
“Whoa,” I laugh. “Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.”
We’ve already fallen into a nice routine with me picking Cameron up from school each day. Every afternoon that I get to watch him instead of wasting my life away at part-time jobs gets better and better.
“How was your day?” I ask him.
His nose wrinkles at me. “Lunch was super gross.”
I laugh. The little boy perks right up and eagerly accepts the snacks I packed for him. I knew he’d be starving after school. He despises the meals they serve in the lunch program, but wants to be like his cousin, so he refuses to bring a cold lunch from home. Eight-year-olds are a strange species.
“Is Dad still away on his work trip?” he asks me, crumbs from his oversized rice cake clinging to the corners of his mouth.
I nod. “Just for a little longer, kiddo. He'll be back before you know it, I promise.”
Cameron’s shoulders slump, and I know he’s bummed. He misses his dad. I don’t blame him. Lincoln’s only been gone a day, but already, I feel a little lost without him, too.
These days, I’m not a fan of having to sleep in that big bed without my husband next to me. If anyone asks, I definitely didn’t cuddle with his cologne-scented pillow last night.
“Your dad will be home soon. But, how about we meet up with your cousin so you can play before dinner?”
“Yay!” He throws his arms up in triumph and runs off toward Lincoln’s car that I’m driving while he’s away.
We cruise across town to meet Alba and Jagger for a play date at the park. The boys bolt off toward the playground, hooting and laughing like they didn’t just see each other twenty minutes ago at school.
I drop down at the picnic table next to my best friend. We catch up on the latest gossip as we watch the kids play.
“Ugh. Did you see your cousin at the wedding? The one with the short blonde hair?” Alba asks, leaning back against the wooden table.
“Ah. The tall one that looks like she has a stick up her fake silicone butt?” I grunt.
“That’s the one,” Alba confirms, snapping her fingers. “That woman wouldn’t quit drooling every time one of the Raines boys took a spin on the dance floor.”
“I saw that,” I laugh. “I’m surprised you didn’t give her the smack down when she started ogling Easton.”
“Oh, I’m used to gorgeous women pining after my hockey stud muffin. But you tell her that if she comes within six feet of him, I will crush her like a bug.”
I shake my head at the idea of my tiny friend beating up anyone. It’s comical. “I’ll take great joy in passing along that message.”
I jolt when I hear Cameron cry out. Then he’s hobbling over to me, holding his pant leg up.
My heart leaps into my throat. “Cameron! What happened?”
“I fell and scraped my knee.” He’s sniffling and holding back big boy tears.
“I’m so sorry, Cameron,” Jagger cuts in, patting his cousin on the back and looking miserable himself. “I shouldn’t have been chasing you so fast.”
Cameron shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. We both should have been more careful.”
Sometimes, the emotional maturity of these two little boys startles me. I know grownups—myself included—who can’t articulate their feelings half as well as Cameron and Jagger do.
Cameron looks at me, wincing. “But it hurts. Is it bleeding?”
I have him sit on the park bench and then gently roll up his pant leg, inspecting the small scrape. It’s not bad, and it’s barely bleeding, but I know Cameron won’t be able to relax until his wound is out of sight.
I grin at him, swiping a lone tear with my thumb. “I think we’ll be able to save the leg. What do you think, Alba?”
My friend chuckles. “You’re in good hands with Nurse Jules here.”
“Yep, I think I even have a bandaid in here,” I mumble, digging around in the bottom of my crossbody purse.
I’m amazed at the variety of random useful items I've accumulated since moving in with Lincoln and Cameron—everything from a tiny sewing kit to a half-dozen organic fruit snack pouches. You never know when this kid will get hangry while you’re out and about.
It vaguely registers in my head that I still haven’t found my marriage contract. I have no idea where I put it. Gosh, I’m so careless. I make a mental note to search around the house for it later tonight.
I find the small first-aid kit I’m looking for and take my time doctoring Cameron’s scraped knee. By the time I’m finished slathering ointment and adjusting his bandage, he’s forgotten about his injury, begging to return to the playground and climb the monkey bars.
Cameron is ready to dart off with Jagger but I call after him.
“Hey, wait!” I say, handing him his water bottle. “Here. Take a drink real fast. Gotta stay hydrated.”
Alba’s staring at me as the boys run off again.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re a natural with Cameron. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. You’ve always been a good godmother to Jagger, but with Cameron…you’re just so motherly. It’s sweet. I like this look on you,” my best friend tells me.
I shake my head, laughing off her strange complement. “I’m just good at everything I do,” I tease. But yet still, her words crawl into my head, make a nest, and refuse to leave.
Hanging out with Cameron is just easy.
I meant it when I told Cynthia I had no intention of taking over her job. But Cameron just feels like my little best friend. We talk about anything. We tease and argue. We play games. And at the end of the day, making sure he’s safe, happy, and healthy has quickly became my main priority.
We stay at the park far later than we’d planned. When the boys start complaining that they’re literally dying of hunger, Cameron and I finally head home.
“So what do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask the boy, trying to keep him distracted as I drive us home.
He doesn’t hesitate. “A smoothie-maker.” He pauses. “Or a furniture-seller. Or a rapper,” he responds confidently. “I’m a really good rapper, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. Let me hear some rhymes.”
Cameron instantly starts reciting some hilarious lines about all the disgusting things that were on the school lunch menu this week. I try not to crack up as I glance at him in the rearview mirror. Instead, I cheer him on, dancing in my seat as I pull up in the driveway.
Once we’re inside, Cameron parks himself at the kitchen island and I whip up a gourmet meal of grilled cheese and macaroni. The kid can’t get enough cheese. Between the stirring and flipping, I help him with his surprisingly difficult third-grade homework.
Cameron reads the question that he’s struggling with. “If Dr. Gilmore’s train leaves Chicago and travels southwest toward Saint Louis—” He stops abruptly. “I don’t get it. When will I ever need to do this kind of math? My dad’s GPS always tells us when we’re going to get where we’re going anyway…”
“Excellent point,” I say, flipping the grilled cheese and listening to it sizzle. I try to frame the issue in a way an eight-year-old would understand. “Maybe you can look at it this way—knowing how to calculate the speed and distance can be like…like…a mathematical hug.”
“What?” His look of confusion makes me giggle.
“Well, yeah. If you know how to do the math, you’ll be able to calculate how soon your dad will get home from his own trip.”
He perks up. “Then I can do math to see how soon I’ll get a hug from Dad?”
“Exactly.” I wink, as he starts scribbling on the side of his worksheet.
After we finish dinner, we go through our bedtime routine.
I remind Cameron to floss his teeth. He puts up a half-hearted fight.
I tuck him into bed, and then we read a short book.
Then another. He falls asleep in the middle of the third story, and then I silently pick up around his room.
I find his worn, stuffed dog on the floor and place it snugly at his side.
When I finish, I stand in his doorway, watching him snore softly, just like his father.
Please, please, please don't fall in love with all this, I beg myself. This routine I’ve built here in Lincoln’s house…it’s becoming comfortable. Easy.
Too comfortable.
Too easy.
I hug my arms around my middle. Oh, please don’t fall in love with it all.