Page 63 of From Maybe to Baby

My agent again:

*Momentum's perfect for contract negotiations. Family man image plus new romance? Marketing gold.

"She's here to work," I say firmly. "To write about the resort."

"And braid my hair," Jace adds.

"And eat pancakes,” Lukas chimes in.

"And maybe," Gloria says, "to find something unexpected?”

Oh God. I am so done with this call.

I glance at my phone. More notifications. More requests. More people wanting a piece of this story that isn't even a story yet. That might never be a story.

Correction. Thatwon’tbe a story. There’s just no way.

Through my balcony window, I look down and over and spot Alexa on her balcony, working on her laptop. She gazes out at the ocean for a moment, thinking, then returns to typing with a slight smile, that smile that makes me forget about PR strategies and media angles.

And remember last night and her mouth on my…

"What do you think?" Gloria asks, snapping me out of it.

"Oh. Right. I don't know." I watch Alexa work, so focused, so professional. So different from my reality.

"Love doesn't wait, Jonas." Gloria's voice sounds like Genny's. "It just happens."

Another buzz. The team owner this time:

*Hear congratulations are in order? Good timing with season tickets about to go on sale.

What is going on? I have a few meals with a woman who interacts with my kids, and suddenly I’m walking down the aisle? Hell, do all these people also know I’m been naked with her too?

"Daddy?" Jace tugs my hand, apparently done video chatting with Gamma. “Time to go. Let’s go. Now.”

I look at my daughter's hopeful face. At my son arranging his beach toys "in case Miss Minty wants to play with them too."

“Yes, let’s get going, kids. Say goodbye to Gamma and Gramps.”

Their cheers drown out Gloria's and Bert’s laughter.

My phone buzzes one more time. Alexa:

Thank fucking God.

Are we still on? Everything under control there?”

I look at the mess around me – the sand-covered floor, the beach toys Lukas is re-packing, or trying to, and the kids already fighting over who gets the extra-large beach towel.

Define 'control'

Relatively controlled anarchy?

Hell no

Perfect. See you in 10

It happensduring breakfast with my pancake-obsessed children, in a deceptively peaceful moment. We're at the resort's beach café, the kind of casual place that provides crayons and the kind of endless patience I wish I had. Alexa's helping Jace color her kids' menu while I try to convince Lukas that pancakes do not require the whole bottle of syrup.

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