Page 39 of Binding Their Hearts

“Becky isn’t Chuck’s kid and that’s how Nat blackmailed Peggy to protect me and it’s maybe a big chunk of why Peggy hates me, because if I hadn’t thrown up at the carnival, they wouldn’t have broken up and she wouldn’t have slept with this other guy and gotten pregnant and had to marry Chuck and live at home forever.”

What in God’s name—

“Holy shit.” Alice slumped back in the chair.

“Except it’s not my fault, because she made choices.” Jay stood tall, squaring his shoulders, his feet wide at rest. “It’s not fair of her to take that out on me.”

Never mind untangling the sordid history just yet; that statement he could wholeheartedly support.

“No, you’re quite right on both counts, Jay. You did indeed top my news, and it is indisputably unfair of her to persecute you for her own decisions.” The years of struggle they’d had to arrive at this point—heat flashed through him, an inferno in his chest, a victorious maelstrom crowing about the potential he’d seen in Jay now realized. “I am exceptionally proud of you for recognizing her culpability rather than casting blame on yourself.”

Jay’s shy smile quirked higher on one side. “I’ve had a lot of help. Like, a lot. And all of it happened because of you.”

He pressed his palm to Jay’s chest and let the warmth and rhythm seep into his skin. “The progress is happening because of you, my boy.”

Jay stepped into his embrace, fumbling behind himself and finding Alice’s hand. Together, they formed protective armor with Jay at its heart.

“You did good, Jay.” Alice squeezed, her arms crossing in an X over Jay’s chest, her kisses landing atop his shoulder and rising toward his neck. “Really, really good.”

“Truly superb.” He claimed Jay’s mouth with slow, patient attention, spiraling out plans for a leisurely seduction as Jay gave a breathy whimper. “Momentous.”

Jay’s stomach rumbled.

Alice smothered giggles against Jay’s shoulder. “Guess we know which appetite wins tonight.”

Jay ducked his head, his broad smile thankfully less contrite than playful. “Not that I’m not loving this sandwich, because I am, but if there could also be more food?”

Thoughts reshuffled to accommodate mealtime, then conversation, then seduction. Henry grunted in mock irritation and kissed Jay’s cheeks. “Go, the both of you. Shower. Dinner will be ready by the time you’ve finished.”

Jay eyed the empty table. “What about—”

“We’ll serve ourselves buffet style for one night.” He released them both. “Go on.”

Jay trotted obediently out of the kitchen toward the hall. Alice lagged, trailing a hand along Henry’s bicep. “So I definitely should…” She tipped her head after their eager boy.

“Whatever reward you care to offer him, sweet girl.” He laid a kiss against her forehead. How she’d believed her soft skills needed practice when she’d clearly intuited his intent—a lack of confidence in herself. Hmph. “I trust your judgment.”

She spun on her toes and kissed the pulse point below his ear. “I trust yours too, you know. About the sale. However hectic the next six weeks are, I know you made the smart decision.”

She trotted after Jay, leaving him alone in the silent kitchen. He washed his hands at the sink and began assembling his tools—chef’s knife, cutting board, large skillet.

“Noisy perverts. Pfft. Doesn’t he know it’s the quiet neighbors one ought to watch out for?” Humming, he pried a grape from the bunch for himself. The honeyed flavor pooled on his tongue. “Quite sweet indeed.”

Chapter eighteen

Jay

The thing about Henry’s mom was she always looked like she’d be some untouchable nose-in-the-air snob, but she gave Jay the best mom-hugs of his life. Every time they visited, she greeted them at the door in clothes she could’ve worn to a dinner party or the opera or whatever it was that wealthy widows did. And then she swept them into her arms and handed out hugs like Halloween candy. The full-size bars, not the minis.

“Jay, darling, I’m delighted to see you this weekend.” She squeezed tight for such a skinny lady, grazing her face against his cheek, then patted his back. “And it’s not only because you have all that brawn for the yardwork. Though that is a magnificent help, and so thoughtful of you.”

“I’m happy to do it.” Even though they’d gone to bed early last night and been on the road by seven this morning. Every fall, they came and readied the house for winter—raked the leaves up for mulch, put the garden to bed, cleaned the gutters, fastened the old-fashioned storm windows in place. Easier work than cutting trees, and Henry’s mom never stood over him and told him he’d done it wrong. “What can I get started on first?”

“Oomph.” She squeezed him again, harder, before letting go. “Henry, I adore this boy.” Stepping back, she made space in the doorway. Wispy hairs framed her face, slipping out of the neat knot-thing she’d pulled the rest into. “Of course you’ll want to bring the bags in—you know where Henry’s bedroom is, and I’ve put fresh sheets on for the three of you and aired out the room—but then you come find me in the kitchen. I need a taste tester.”

“Yes ma’am.” He tipped an imaginary hat and scooped the bags up from the porch. They’d only stay the one night, Saturday, and go home late tomorrow, so their things weighed less than a grocery delivery. Easy enough to carry all in one go. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

Henry’s mom pulled Alice into a hug while he headed deeper into the house and up the stairs. Everybody got a big welcome in this house. And they didn’t have to lie about who they loved to do it.

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