Page 51 of The Game Is Afoot

“Because I’m the new class mom.” I mumble it into my hand, but I can tell from the way his jaw drops that he heard me.

“Mavis—what?”

“She was complaining about how she doesn’t have one. Because ofme—because I got Trisha ousted. And I knew that she wanted me to offer, so I didn’t really have a choice. Plus, it’s going to make her really love Pearl.”

I see him gearing up to go all psychologist on me—nodding thoughtfully, one finger pressed into his cheek—so I beat him to the analysis.

“It’s just one more thing. And I have all this free time, so why wouldn’t I give it to Pearl? What kind of mom would I be if I didn’t?”

“Still a great one.” He reaches up to cradle my face. “It’s okay for your time to just be yours.”

I feel a flash of irritation. My cheeks flush and I pull away. “That’s easy for you to say because you’re not a parent. You don’tunderstand.”

I know that’s not completely fair. He has a lot of caregiver responsibilities with Derek. But it doesn’t seem to weigh on him the same way it does me. Nothing I give will ever be enough because Pearl deserves even more. And ifI, the person who loves her more than anyone, am not giving her everything, then what hope do I have that the world will even give her a fraction? That everyone else will value her and treasure her because they see just how valued and treasured she already is?

I don’t say all of this to Jack because I don’t even know how to put it into words. It feels like both nonsense and the most sacred truth, and speaking it aloud is wrong either way.

“I just want what’s best for you.”

“Then trust I know what’s best for myself.” The words come out harsh and hot. I immediately want to take them back, but they hang in the air like smoke from an extinguished flame. I don’t even think I’m mad at Jack, necessarily, it’s just that I’m mad that he keeps trying to help me, mad that I constantlyneedto be helped.

His lips part, and I know he’s about to apologize. And Iknowthat’s going to make me feel even worse. So I talk first. “If you say I’m in the red zone right now, I’m going to kick you in the balls.”

“I definitely wasn’t about to diagnose you with a color.” He holds his palms up, and a sly smile creeps in. “Though that is certainly something someone in the red zone would say.”

I laugh and lean into him, luxuriating in the broken tension.He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing. Iknowyou know what’s best for you. I’m sorry for telling you what you should do with your own time,” he says.

“Don’t say sorry! I’m sorry!”

“I’m still learning how to show up for you. And I l—” There’s that damn consonant again. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “—care for you. So much. I won’t always say what’s right, but I’m trying my best. I hope you know that.”

He lifts my chin and presses his lips to mine.

“I know. I do.”

Do I even want him to say it yet? Because what would I say back? Love—is that what I’m feeling for this man who lets me be messy and grumpy and all over the place, and yet still looks at me like I’m exactly who he wants?

I deepen our kiss, parting his lips, intertwining my fingers behind his neck. And his hands drift around my waist, up my shirt, pulling me closer. I curl my knee over him, settling myself in his lap, and soon my lips hum with his frustrated sigh.

Because it’s unspoken but understood that we can’t go much farther when my dad is snoring in his room at the back of the house, and Pearl’s asleep, too, on just the other side of the kitchen. We have to plan in advance for that. I groan in frustration, too. I’m thirty-two years old and feel like a horny teenager.

He kisses both of my cheeks, my forehead, the side of my neck. “I should probably go.”

I feel the familiar aching tug in my belly. I don’t want him to go. But I know it’s for the best.

He stands up and readjusts his jeans. “Do you want me to take this paper home, finish these hearts?”

“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Later, after I’ve cooled down and made a batch of flying unicorns to hang from the ceiling with yarn and soothed a stirringPearl, that same buzzing-gnat feeling from this morning at the park comes back, and I still my mind to chase it.

It’s Hank. What did he say again? Before Florence interrupted us?

Also, we don’t know if it was even murder.

Yes, that’s it. What did he mean by that? Was he trying to hint at…suicide?

I did see some articles about sodium nitrate being used for suicide…but why would Hank bring that up to me? Was he trying to cover for himself? Or did he google the same things I did?

---