Page 40 of For Fox Sake

Ari wrinkles her nose. “I want to watch a person show, not a cartoon.”

I clear my throat. “Have you ladies ever witnessed the gloriousness that is The 10th Kingdom?”

Chapter Eleven

Ryan

By the time I emerge from Ari’s bedroom, I half expect Jake to have bailed.

She took a quick bath, then we read The Velveteen Rabbit, and she had two “I have to pee still” episodes.

But he’s still here, in the kitchen, putting all the cleaning supplies back under the sink.

“Did you fix it already?” Already. I’ve probably been in the back of the house with Ari for an hour.

In answer, he lifts the handle on the faucet and water gushes from the tap. He shuts it off. “It’s fixed. There was an old, rusted fitting. It was simple enough to replace. There were extras in the garage.”

“Thank you.” I am always thanking him for something.

He wipes his hands on his jeans and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About your no good, terrible, awful, bad day?”

I snort. “Day? More like decade. You have six hours?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “I’ve got a couple, at least.”

I sigh. “Do you want an apple or cranberry juice box?”

He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “How does one choose between such enticing options?”

I open the fridge. “We have more of the cranberry.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Wait. I have an idea so we can feel like real grownups.” I spin around and open the cabinet behind me. On the top shelf are a few champagne glasses, dusty from disuse. I stretch up on my tiptoes to seize the nearest glass.

“Here. I’ve got it.” He moves behind me, reaching over my head and pulling down two glasses.

He doesn’t get close enough to so much as graze my back, and he’s only behind me for a couple of seconds, but my nerve endings all come to attention like every cell in my body is suddenly alert and aware of his every movement.

He steps away, taking them over to the sink to rinse off the dust.

I squeeze the juice into the freshly rinsed glasses and hand him one. We head back into the living room, which is cleaner than when I left it.

At some point, he must have straightened up. The crayons and coloring books that had littered the coffee table are all tucked away, resting on the corner of the table in a neat pile.

When I was grabbing the juice, the hot dogs were in a baggie sealed up in the fridge, which means he cleaned up the backyard at some point too.

It’s such a little thing, compared to everything else he’s done for me lately. Picking up a few things and putting them away—and yet somehow it hits me in the gut like a blow.

When I lived with Shane, I couldn’t get him to clean up after himself, let alone pick up after me or Ari. He changed her diaper one time and acted like he saved the whole world, seeking praise like a giant manchild.

Jake is so different. He does it and doesn’t point it out or ask for praise or expect anything in return.

Involuntarily, my eyes skip down the length of him as he crosses the living room, his broad shoulders, sinewy arms, tapered waist, jeans hugging his trim hips and outlining the curve of his?—

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