Page 8 of Whatever Whispers
“This is Sienna.” His tone is full of affection, and at the sight of me, Sienna twists violently in her carrier, her wispy brown hair catching the light as she reaches for me to rescue her from her confines. Her bright blue eyes sparkle with curiosity, making her look even more adorable.
“Hi, pretty girl.” I coo, looking to Jack for permission before I attempt to swipe his child away from him.
“Be my guest,” he sighs in relief as he releases the straps holding her in place.
She all but leaps into my waiting arms, clinging to me like a baby koala.
“So friendly, little bear.” He caresses the back of her head as she lays it against my shoulder. The gesture feels intimate, not just toward Sienna, but me too because I’m trapped in the middle of them.
It’s not as uncomfortable as I feel like it should be.
He gestures for me to hop in line with him so we can order lunch, and I do but I am distracted by the wiggly little girl in my arms. I’m too busy playing peekaboo to notice that he’s ordered and paid forbothour meals until it’s too late to protest.
I frown at him while Sienna tries forcing my hand back over my eyes. “Hey. Last I checked this meal was on me.”
He closes his wallet and stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans, which fit him a little too well and I might have just accidentally drooled. “Was it? I forgot.”
I give him a look of annoyance. “How do you know I don’t have food allergies?”
“Do you?”
Sienna bounces and pats my chest with her tiny hand. She’s giddy for no reason at all and it’s hard to be upset with such alittle ball of energetic joy in my arms. “No. But I might be picky.” I’m not.
“Sienna wants you to try her favorite sandwich.” We slowly make our way to the table I abandoned to greet them, and Jack pulls up a high chair. I settle into my seat, content to hold her in my lap.
“You can’t use the baby against me. She only has two teeth.”
“She’s working on a third.”
I roll my eyes and bounce her on my knees. “Is Daddy impossible?”
She giggles like she understands and is used to his bullheadedness.
I want to address the elephant in the room and can’t quite figure out how to casually ask, so I jump off into the deep end. “Are you in a relationship? Married?”
He releases a choked sound of surprise. “No.”
“Good because it would be super weird of me to have lunch with two-thirds of your family, neither of which is your wife.”
“Sienna is biologically my sister’s daughter, but mine in every other way.”
I don’t know their situation. His sister could be dead for all I know, but my heart still fractures and a long-held bitterness seeps out of the cracks.
The look on my face is enough for him to answer my unspoken question. “She dipped.”
How anyone could abandon their child is so far beyond comprehensible to me. I can feel the word vomit creeping up my throat when someone calls Jack’s name, signaling that our food is ready. I’m left to gather my composure and when he returns with a plastic food basket in each hand and drinks nestled in the crook of one of his arms, I’ve stuffed my childhood trauma back where it belongs: away.
I can’t say I’m disappointed with Sienna’s favorite sandwich. Turkey and apples on a thick slice of crispy sourdough bread with melted white cheddar oozing out the sides—but I’m most excited about the side of pumpkin mac and cheese.
He takes Sienna from my lap to place her in the high chair. She only protests a little and settles quickly when she notices the small bowl of blueberries he’s ordered for her. He plucks one from the ceramic dish and smashes it between his thumb and forefinger. She opens her mouth like a baby bird and he places it on her waiting tongue. “What are you studying?”
The abrupt subject change might have given me whiplash if I wasn’t so eager for it. “Forensic Psychology. I graduate in the spring. Maybe.”
I was being dramatic.
“Maybe?”
His quirked eyebrow is far too sexy and I focus on picking at a burnt piece of cheese attached to the crust of my sandwich when I answer. “CRIM 456 might be the bitter end for me. Professor Hollis is such a dick.”
