Page 53 of Forget Me Knot

“And this is Pamela. We call her Pam for short. She’s our first girl.” The second Jack and I strolled through the door this morning, Molly jumped on the opportunity to introduce him to herladies, trotting him around the field from alpaca to alpaca, hand in hand.

And I must say, seeing him shower attention on my niece is exceedingly enticing. Emory and I watch from the covered porch, grapefruit mimosas in hand, barely speaking—too busy eyeing the action and listening like the creepers we are.

“That gray one is Phyllis. Then there’s Kelly… Meredith, and… oh!” she yells. Jack startles, but Molly just pulls him across the yard—and let's be honest, probably through piles of alpaca poop—without preamble to greet thecria, the baby of the group. “This is Angela. Isn’t she so cute!”

“She’s awesome, Molly. Who’s your favorite?”

“Oh, definitely Meredith.” Molly nods her head like she wasn’t calling Pam herbest girlthe day before.

Jack kneels down, scoops her up in his arms, and in tandem, they reach out to pet Angela’s mama, Nelly, along her neck. Us grown girls on the porch release audible sighs.

“He’s awesome,” Emory says, never taking her eyes off of the man dressed in a henley rolled to his elbows. I’d like to tattoo my name front and center on those glorious forearms of his, now on display as he bounces Molly on his shoulders on their way to meet Dwight.

“I know, right? Every day together feels new. It’s exciting. I really like him, Emory.”

She nudges my arm with her elbow. “Every day is new and exciting, because every day he’s a different person.”

“He’s the same person, Em. Just… different. I can’t explain it.” I sip my drink and watch Jack’s head tip back in easy laughter at something Molly says up close, like a secret, in his ear. “Jackson remembered our first kiss yesterday.”

“I’d hope he would remember.” Emory scoffs and sits on one of the rocking chairs behind us.

“No,” I say, joining her on the neighboring chair, “you don’t get it. It wasn’t Jackson’s first kiss he remembered. It was Jack’s. We were makin’ pizza dough last night in my kitchen, prepping for today, and it was like something just clicked. He—”

I brush the back of my hand to my cheek, feeling the heat grow there as I remember the way Jackson’s hazel eyes had grown brighter the night before, as if he were stumbling slowly out of a dream. He hadn’t bothered cleaning the rest of his dough-covered hands before throwing me over his shoulder, marching us into the darkened shop, and planting me on the counter.

“This is where I kissed you,”he’d said, voice husky and hopeful, and I’d barely nodded my head before his mouth crashed into mine, showing me exactly how well he remembered…

Emory nudges me out of my thoughts. “Hewhat, Dinah?” I don’t have to look at her to know Emory’s smirking like she can imagine exactly what he did. When I mirror her sly smile, she raises her glass to mine and clinks them together. “No further questions.”

Making their way towards us on the porch, Jack and Molly chatter easily, with Molly still on his shoulder cradling his head in her arms and talking a million miles a minute. She’s fast friends with everyone, but after Jack’s first day of coaching the Peewee Spring Training and Molly witnessing his migraine episode, she has taken a particular interest in Jack. Or Jackson.

She doesn’t seem to notice or care that he’s a little different from day to day. And though he hasn’t mentioned it, I can tell their budding friendship has been a bright spot in his days, no matter what he calls himself.

Jack asks about Molly’s interests and chats with her on our morning calls if he happens to be around. Jackson makes her tiny rose bud bouquets and sends them with me when he knows I’ll be seeing the girls. And today, he brought both Emory and Molly corsages, claiming he had extra clippings lying around, when I know he just wants to dote on them. To show them, in his own little way, that if they’re special to me, they’re special to him.

This is truly the first time in her life Molly has been shown affection by a man. Her paternal grandparents do show up occasionally, but don’t seem to get the ins and outs of what makes her so sweet and silly. They don’t know her, but J. Jones makes every effort to.

It’s also the first time in just as long that I witness Emory’s heart slowly soften towards the idea of romance. At least where I’m concerned.

“Presents!” Molly begins chanting, bouncing on Jack’s shoulders. He joins her, but slows as he reaches the porch steps,dramatizing his exhaustion and acting as if he can’t quite make it one more step.

Molly kisses the top of his head like she sometimes doesthe girlswhen she showers them with affection and treats. “You can do it, Jacky!” she encourages, petting his hair down whilst I melt into a puddle of attraction. My mouth is suddenly dry and tingly. Who knew a man—this man—loving my niece could create such a thirst trap? I’m parched.

“I’d have thought seeing Jack in a matching jersey with a cat was present enough for Aunt Dinah.” Emory sips the last of her drink and stands, pulling me up to her side.

She chuckles to herself, but Emory has no idea. We were twenty minutes late to the farm today thanks to those adorable matching ensembles. As Jack and Chipper arrived at my loft door this morning with wildflowers and matching jerseys, I made them sit for an impromptu photoshoot. It’s my birthday. I can do what I want.

Jack grunts, lifting Molly from his shoulders to the porch. “I will never wear this thing again.”

“I want one, Jacky!” Molly says, putting her hand in his and dragging him into the house. “Can mine be pink, though?”

“Course, Molly Dolly,” he says, and I know, without a doubt, Jack will be ordering a Molly-sized, custom jersey before the day is done.

We eat homemade pizzas, watch my favorite rom coms, and wear our matching tiaras and thePrincess Panty Partyt-shirts Emory had printed for the occasion.

Jack gifts me a new pair of pale pink Converse, looking more bashful than he should for such a thoughtful gift. Examining them more closely, I see that the phrasesReading is SexyandRuns on Romanceare printed repeatedly on the tongue.

“Thank you. These are amazing!” I squeal, ripping off my trusty old mint tennies and sliding the new ones on before throwing myself on his lap for a hug. “I’ll wear them every day.”

---