58. Kate #2
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Yeah. My house. My job. My old routines. It was a life I built completely on my own, but giving it up…well, it didn’t feel like giving it up at the time. It felt like choosing my boys. But some days, I still feel guilty.”
Sue reached out and wrapped her hand around mine without hesitation. “Sweetheart,” she said gently, “that’s allowed.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed on.
“It’s not that I regret anything. I don’t.
I’d do it all again, a hundred times over.
But sometimes I feel like I’m pretending.
Like I’m about five steps behind everyone else, just waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and tell me I don’t belong here. That I’m not enough for this…life.”
The silence that followed was gentle. No rush to fill it. Just the breeze and the occasional noise of the birds that chirped so loudly out here.
Sue gave my hand a squeeze.
“Oh, love,” she said, her voice soft and sure. “You are exactly what he needs.”
That broke me a little. My eyes burned.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” she went on. “Not ever. He’s calm. He’s grounded. He’s happy. Properly, deeply happy. And it’s not just about the baby, or the timing, or some whirlwind holiday romance…it’s you. The way he looks at you…it’s like he’s finally home.”
I smiled unconvincingly at Sue. “I was just worried you’d all think it was a bit mad. Too fast. Like I was trying to pin him down.”
Izzy shook her head. “Not a chance. I’ve known Jordan through every phase from teenage idiot, to world-class athlete, to casually dating women who clearly just wanted the attention. And this is different. You’re different. He doesn’t have to perform around you.”
“Jordan never used to talk about any of his relationships with us. The fact that he even told us about you, I knew you were the one,” Sue said warmly.
It felt so ridiculous but the thought of Jordan with other women twisted a little knot in my stomach.
I couldn’t help it. My brain flashed with images of glossy blondes and shallow flirtations.
But then I remembered the way he kissed me.
The way he held me like I was sacred. The way he’d looked at me in his childhood bedroom, like I was everything.
Sue’s voice broke through gently.
“You see him,” she said. “Not the version everyone else thinks they know. You see the boy I raised. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. Someone who sees him and loves him, anyway.”
My throat was too tight to speak. I blinked fast, laughing through the tears that threatened.
“Bloody hormones.”
Izzy handed me a napkin. “Nah. Just truth.”
And it hit me; this didn’t feel like just a polite welcome. They weren’t just accepting me into the family.
They were seeing me as one of their own. The reality dawned on me that this would be my little boy’s family and he was going to be so loved.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged in a family.
We chatted for what felt like hours. I heard all the childhood stories about Jordan, the way he once tried to surf down the front stairs on a mattress, the time he got his head stuck in the stair banister, the cricket bat incident that left a dent in the garage door and his brother’s shin.
Apparently he was a menace, even back then.
Sue told it all with such pride, though.
Like every scraped knee and detention was just another reason to adore him.
We’d sat so long Izzy had to help me up, laughing as she pulled me gently from the rattan chair I’d all but moulded into. “God,” I groaned, hand on my lower back. “Your brother’s big baby is not making it easy to get up out of things lately.”
“I hear that,” she said, rubbing her own bump. “This one’s currently using my bladder as a trampoline.”
It was late afternoon by the time we got back to the house. The sun was beginning to mellow, casting long, gold lines across the wraparound veranda. The air smelled like home cooking and blooming bougainvillea, heady and sweet, like something from a postcard.
As I stepped through the door, the sight that greeted me caught me off guard.
There, at the kitchen table, was Jordan. One knee pulled up, barefoot, hair a mess, completely absorbed in a Lego kit with his six-year-old niece, Bella. She was cross-legged on the chair beside him, bossing him around with absolute authority.
“No, that piece goes there.” She giggled, pointing with a little finger. “You’re doing it wrong again!”
Jordan sighed dramatically, holding up the instruction booklet. “Look, Bells, if you’re going to supervise like this, you need to bring better snacks and more positive reinforcement.”
She shrieked with laughter.
And I just stood there for a moment, watching them. His brows furrowed in concentration, hers crinkled in glee. Their heads were bent close together over a pile of pink bricks. My heart did something I couldn’t quite describe, somersaulted, maybe. Or melted.
God, this man doing the simplest of things made my heart flutter.
He looked up and spotted me then, that slow, cheeky grin creeping across his face. The one that lit up his whole face, right through to his eyes.
“You survived then,” he said, rising from his Lego lair, stretching his arms as he padded over to me.
“I did,” I said smugly, still a little breathless. “And I learned so much about little Jordan today. It was deeply educational.”
He groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder. “Oh God. What did Mum tell you?”
“That your first crush was your surf instructor,” I said, “and that you cried when she got married.”
“That’s slander,” he muttered, looping his arms around me, his hands a warm relief against the small of my aching back.
“She also told me about the time you tried to kneecap your brother with a cricket bat.”
“Okay, that one’s true.” He smiled. “But he deserved it.”
I laughed, pressing a kiss to his temple. He smelled as if his skin had been warmed by the sun all day.
He tilted his head back to look at me, his eyes softer now. “You alright?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Perfect.”
His hand found my bump, his thumb grazing gently as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. And then it happened. Without warning and unmistakeable. The baby kicked. Hard.
“Jesus…was that…?” Jordan froze, staring at me.
I caught his hand and moved it back to the spot where I felt him turning. “Yeah. Shit, it’s never been that strong before. Did you feel that one?”
His breath hitched. His eyes glazed over, and for a second, he looked like he couldn’t even speak. I’d been feeling our son fluttering around for weeks, but this, this was the first time Jordan had.
“Bloody hell, yes,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his palm spread wider over my belly, desperate to catch another. His lashes were wet now, but he grinned through it, eyes never leaving mine. “That’s our boy.”