Page 82 of Stay for Me
That makes zero sense, but then this seems to be Jacob’s big issue—food.
Me: None of your sisters-in-law will feed you?
Jacob: Nope. So, you’re next on the list.
Me: I’d hate to wonder who is after me.
Jacob: Let’s not ever have to go there.
I chew on my thumbnail, not sure of what to do. I could invite him here. Let him spend time with Sebastian, and make sure he eats. Not that it’s my problem, but we’re friends. Friends who happen to have slept with each other. Still, Jacob has never done anything I didn’t want.
And I was just upset because I haven’t seen him. This would sort of kill three birds with one stone. Sebastian would be happy. I would be happy. And Jacob would eat something. Okay, four, if I want to be ambitious and think that maybe Jacob wants to see me too, but I won’t officially put that on the list. Then maybe we can also make a plan for this weekend since Sebastian is sleeping at Austin’s house and Melanie is going to stay at a friend’s house.
Ugh. I really need to give myself therapy.
The best advice I give is to trust yourself. I’m a smart woman. I know what I want to do—what my gut is telling me to do, and that’s to do what makes me happy.
Me: Then come over and let’s make sure we don’t see you go down to the next rung.
Jacob: I’m on my way.
I look around, my house coming together bit by bit, but the mess is ever-growing. I call for the kids. Melanie and Sebastian are at the bottom of the stairs a few seconds later.
“Jacob is coming for dinner. Not as your director, but as our friend,” I say, cutting off any questions from Sebastian. “We need to clean up before he gets here in, like, ten minutes, so, it’s all hands on deck . . . go!”
The three of us scatter, picking up anything lying around and shoving it in places it doesn’t belong but won’t be seen. This is what we would do before my mother would come to visit before she died. She liked to just stop by because it wasn’t as if she lived three hours away and stopping by wasn’t really stopping by, but that was her thing.
Growing up, my house was a museum. Everything had a place and that place was never altered. I’ve never prescribed to that thinking. Our home was always clean, but not immaculate. We lived in our homes. Messes are part of living because life isn’t meant to be tidy.
That’s not to say that I want Jacob to see it this way for a prolonged amount of time.
There’s a knock at the door, and like prairie dogs hearing a sound, our heads snap up in unison.
“Shit. Okay, Mel, you do what you can about the dishes, and Seb, you go make sure the bathroom is good. I’ll stall.”
Sebastian gives me a salute, and Melanie rushes into the kitchen to do her part. I smooth my hair back just as another knock comes from the door.
I release a cleansing breath and open the door with a wide grin. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He extends a handful of wildflowers. “Thank you for taking pity on me.”
“These are beautiful. Thank you, and there’s no pity, we are happy to have you.”
He leans in. “My next rung was Magnolia.”
I burst out laughing. “Well then, if I’m only one above Magnolia, it seems you owe me much more than flowers.”
“You name it, and it’s yours.”
“I’ll think about this and get back to you.”
He smirks. “Good. And I’m happy to pay in the early morning.”
I blush and let that comment go.
Jacob enters the house, and a split second later, Sebastian barrels around the corner. “Jacob!”
“Hey, dude.”
