Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Franky
“Look what I did, Mommy!”
I turned to the highchair to find my little girl lining up her Cheerios.
“You’re so clever. How many have you got?”
“Four!”
It was five but one of them was hidden under a mandarin segment, so I cut her some slack. At the age of two, she was already so advanced.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Out in the garden, darling.”
“With the burgers?”
I chuckled. “You know it. Daddy doesn’t do much hunting, but plenty of gathering. And grilling.”
At the mention of my child’s father, he appeared but I couldn’t see his face. That was when I realized I was dreaming, but like many dreams, I could control the narrative. My clever child. Her sparkling curiosity. Her dark hair and … green eyes.
The rarest eye color, something like two percent of the population had it. The statistical probability of a sperm donor with that shade of moss green eyes was … I would need a calculator to work it out.
Never tell me the odds.
Oh, it was Hans Solo. That made much more sense.
“Daddy!” Our little girl held out her arms.
“Hey, punkin! You counting your Cheerios again?” He scooped her up, her dark hair covering his face. I could just make out the strong jaw of …
Not the man who made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs.
I should have been horrified. Not him. Anyone but him. But a dimple popped in the hard plane of his cheek and my heart soared.
Or somewhere further south.
He winked one of those glittering green jewels at me. “What’s up, Doc?” And then he offered me a carrot as my little girl—our little girl—pulled on one of his long rabbit ears.
I awoke with a start on my sofa, sweaty and agitated. Apparently, witnessing Jason Isner play nice with his niece had made an impression. Dreams were such a curious reflection of our subconscious.
Something was buzzing. Loudly. I checked my phone, not the source of the sound. It was 9:07pm and I had been asleep for over an hour since I came home from Tilly’s birthday party. The September issue of Ecology and Evolution was open on my chest, so I placed it aside and sat up.
My intercom buzzer sounded, and Bunsen gave a hiss.
My cat didn’t like visitors, and neither did I, especially unannounced ones.
My other cat, Beaker, a silly tabby with the personality of my favorite Muppets character, jumped when the buzzer went again and scrambled under the wing-back armchair in the corner.
The buzzer went again, more urgently this time. Whoever it was, was determined to be heard. Placing my phone down, I grabbed my glasses from the coffee table and went to see who was calling at this late hour.
“Hello?” I spoke into the intercom.
“It’s Jason.”
I must have been still asleep. I could have sworn I heard … Before I could clarify, he filled in the blank.
“You left your jacket at Theo’s.”
My jacket? Since when did this man step up to delivery boy?
“Oh, okay.” I pressed the entrance button to let him in and instinctively turned to the full-length, gilt-edged mirror near the door.
Then turned away.
I had never cared for this man’s opinion, and I wasn’t going to start now. On opening the door, I found him standing there with my jean jacket in one meaty paw.
He raised an eyebrow. So expressive, those eyebrows. “Did I wake you?”
“I fell asleep while reading an article about the Conus gloriamaris snail.” Better to credit my nap rather than his presence for my stunned state.
“Can’t say I blame you. You gonna invite me in?”
For God’s sake. I stood back to let him by. Instinctively, he hung my jacket on a hook in the hallway and scanned the frame-covered walls, filled with pictures of my family—Cat, Rosie, Vi, Devon, and my dad in assorted combinations, then more of me with just my sisters.
Bunsen decided to show his face and immediately went on guard, adding a hiss for good measure.
“You have a cat.” Said as if that was so expected as to be a cliché. The crazy cat lady, desperate for a child.
“This is Bunsen. He’s a bit fussy with strangers.”
Jason viewed my cat with suspicion.
“And Beaker is around somewhere. He tends to hide under the furniture when he hears the intercom buzzer. But tabby cats are notoriously scatterbrained, as you probably know, and—” I broke off mid-ramble. Lately I had started sounding unaccountably nervous in this man’s presence.
“What does your family think of your plan?” Asked as if seconds instead of hours had passed since our previous conversation.
“They pretend it’s not weird, but then they’ve also learned to accept that I’m not the most orthodox of daughters or sisters.”
He went further inside, which meant I was forced to acknowledge he had something to say and was taking his time working up to it. I closed the door.
“Thanks for bringing my jacket over. There was really no need.”
“Figured it was a favorite.”
“You did?”
He picked up an ornament on my bookshelf, a snail glitter globe my aunt Harper had gifted me—a Cracker Barrel exclusive—and put it down again. “It has that snail pin on it. I’ve seen you wear it before, so I gathered it was a regular part of the rotation. Got anything to drink?”
“Like alcohol?” It came out prissy.
“Water will do.”
Leading the way into the kitchen, I was conscious of how those keen green eyes took in everything about my habitat. I shivered, the memory of my dream making me uneasy.
“You’re going to raise a baby here? Kind of small.”
“It has a second bedroom I can turn into a nursery. It’s an office now, but I can compromise.” I handed him a glass of water.
He gulped it down, and as he was a strange entity in my space, I had to make a choice: look away or become unfortunately fascinated by the thick, tanned column of his throat. I’d rather not say which won out.
Once finished, he set the glass down on the kitchen counter.
“So you’re willing to compromise on that.”
“On an office versus a nursery? I don’t see that’s all that difficult a choice. If necessary, I’ll get a bigger place, but for now I want to focus on the baby. Jason, what’s going on?”
His mouth twitched. “Going on?”
“While I appreciate you bringing my jacket over, I’m not sure our relationship, such as it is, warrants this level of familiarity.”
He chuckled and rubbed his chin. “Warrants this level of familiarity? Interesting way of putting it. I guess I’m here to plead my case.”
“Your case?”
“To be your baby daddy.”