Page 71 of His Best Friend's Baby

“I don’t know what I am doing,” he whispered to her. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It’s breakfast, Jesse,” she whispered back. “And it’s easy.”

“Nothing is different. I have to leave.”

“Not right now,” she said. She kissed his nose and moved away. She slid cut-up pancakes in front of Ben and a cup of coffee with plenty of sugar in front of him.

Jesse sat and leaned back in his chair in an imitation of relaxation. But he wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t easy. Relaxing in his kitchen with this woman and Mitch’s son was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Yet at some point between his fifth pancake and second cup of coffee, it happened. Slowly, moment by morphine drip moment, he did relax and enjoy the morning. It was so normal, it scared him if he thought about it too long—which he didn’t.

After breakfast Ben asked Jesse to read him a story and he found himself with a lapful of toddler who smelled sweet and warm.

“He’s friendly,” Julia said with a proud smile.

“I noticed,” Jesse mumbled. He’d never done this, had never read a story about talking bears to a kid. But soon he was settled into the recliner with the solid weight of Ben’s head against his shoulder, over his heart.

He could feel Julia watching, tears no doubt in her eyes and a foolish hope about substitute father figures in her heart. It was something he shouldn’t foster. He should lift Ben off his lap and head out to the garage, out to safety.

“Hey.” Ben patted his cheek, an unsubtle reminder that Jesse had a job to do. “Story time.”

“Right.” Jesse swallowed and opened the book Ben handed him. “Story time.”

THAT AFTERNOON, Jesse’s cell phone rang and Julia picked it up from the table and answered it on the second ring.

“Is Jesse Filmore there?” a man with a slight Hispanic accent asked.

“Sure, I’ll go get him.” She grabbed Ben and went out to the garage where Jesse had been busy for the last few hours. She knew he was hiding from her, hiding from what had happened between them three beautiful times during the night. She was ready to give him the space he needed to come to grips with it, but she wasn’t going to go away.

She wanted Jesse. And this time she was ready to fight for what she wanted. She could beat back his ghosts. She was sure of it.

“Call for you.” She handed Jesse the phone and looked at what he’d been working on. The cradle was partially assembled. She nearly gasped in reverence. It was so beautiful, so carefully and handsomely made.

“There’s no one there,” Jesse said, his brow furrowed.

“A guy asked for you.” Julia shrugged.

“Chris Barnhardt?”

“He didn’t say. Maybe the connection went dead.”

“Maybe.” Jesse picked up the wood glue. “What do you think?” he asked gesturing toward his handiwork.

“I think it’s beautiful. Rachel’s going to lose her mind.” Jesse nodded and squirted glue into a hole and then carefully placed a spindle.

“Are you going to come with me tonight to give it to them?” she asked, wondering if she might be stepping into territory best not stepped in.

“It won’t be ready.”

“You should come anyway.”

“I don’t know yet.” He took a deep breath. “I haven’t decided.”

“Well, Ben and I will be leaving at six.” She turned to leave him alone with his decision. “Oh, can we get a ride—”

“Of course,” he said.

She knew she was pushing him faster than he could take. But she knew she didn’t have a lot of time with this man to change his mind about her and about leaving. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to the soft pillow of his lips. She inhaled the warm spicy smell of him that she knew she’d never forget. No matter how far he ran from her.

“Kiss!” Ben said and pressed a wet smacker to the underside of Jesse’s chin. Jesse gave Ben a big raspberry right on his chubby cheek and Julia’s heart swelled to three times its regular size.

Swelled past what was sensible.

The six o’clock departure time rolled around like high noon in the old westerns. She could feel Jesse’s agitation build until she thought the roof would pop off the house.

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