Them (Him #3) (2 page)

She nods, trying to settle him. “He refused to nap today, so now he’s cranky. I was hoping the fresh air would cheer him up.”

Cal’s watching the other little boy fuss, rapt, and I do my best not to laugh. He’s a funny little guy, on the quiet side. He’s our little observer.

The other boy notices Cal’s attention and settles into a staring contest. “This is Calvin, and I’m Sarah.”

She reaches out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Jessica, and this is my son Marcus.”

I internally roll my eyes at her name. For some reason, I’ve never been able to like the name Jessica after everything that went down. I’m an adult, though, so I’ll try not to judge her by someone else’s bad behavior.

“Nice to meet you both. Can you say hi, Calvin?”

We continue to make small talk until Calvin asks to get down. I follow him over to a small slide. He’s good at going up the stairs but still needs my help getting situated at the top of the slide. He’s just starting to climb up the stairs for another go when I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist and soft lips kiss my neck.

“Hey, honey,” I whisper, leaning back against him.

It’s amazing, the power he has to make everything better with only his presence. He’s my true north, my home.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

I laugh. “You know once Cal sees you I’m going to be chopped liver.”

My comment is proven seconds later when Cal’s eyes find Will. His entire face lights up as he reaches for him. He’s no longer interested in the slide now that his uncle is here. Will tucks me to his side and, with his free arm, scoops Cal up and sets him on his hip. As perfect as this moment is, it reminds me how much sweeter it would be once we have our own child.

“Hey, buddy.” Will grins down at him as Cal reaches up to touch his face.

Cal seems fascinated by Will’s scruffy face. Since it’s the weekend, he didn’t shave this morning and might have more stubble than he’s ever seen him. I love his scruff. I’ve toyed with asking him to grow a beard but am scared I won’t like anything covering his handsome face.

We head toward a seesaw. Will holds Cal in his lap on one side and I go to sit on the other.

“How long do we have Cal for?”

“Christine is going to call me when she’s on her way, but I think she said it’d be around five.”

“It was almost three when I started walking down here. Think we should head back?”

I’m on to him. “You want to play blocks before he has to leave, don’t you?”

He tries to look innocent. “Maybe.”

After the first couple of times we watched Cal at our house, Will went out and bought some toys for him to play with when he came over. One thing he got was this old-fashioned wooden block set. My man loves building things, and Cal loves knocking them down.

“Sure.”

I say goodbye to Jessica and Marcus as we pass them. Will buckles Cal in and pushes the stroller as I fall into step with him. I can’t help but wonder if the people we pass on the way home think Cal is ours.

Once we’re back at the house, I change Cal and make him a snack while Will starts setting up the blocks. Calvin is working on knocking down a line of towers when Christine calls.

“They’re on the way,” I tell Will once I set my phone down.

I quickly pick it back up to snap a picture of them both pouting at the news. Cal cheers up once Will starts building another tower for him to knock down. No more than ten minutes later, there’s a knock at our front door.

Will gets up to answer it while I scoop Cal in my arms to get in some last-minute snuggles.

“Was he good?” Christine asks, already reaching for him.

I give him an extra squeeze before passing him to her. “He was an angel.”

“I see you broke out the blocks,” Brian remarks, bumping Will’s ribs with his elbow.

“What?” Will asks innocently. “Cal loves them.”

I cross the room, stepping over piles of blocks to slide my arms around Will’s waist. “What movie did you end up seeing?”

“Um . . .” Christine looks away.

“No movie. We ended up touring a three-bedroom unit in our complex.” Brian laughs.

“But I thought—” I start.

Brian kisses the side of Christine’s head. “She’s a sneaky little thing. I was dead-set against staying in a condo, but after seeing this place I might be changing my mind.”

“Sorry I fibbed about the movie,” Christine adds.

“No worries. So, tell us about the place. Are you going to get it?”

The new condo is in another building on the ground floor. Since it’s a garden-level unit, it has a decent sized patio where the kids could play. The rooms are about the same size as what they already have, and one giant perk is it comes with two assigned parking spots.

“I think we’re going to make an offer on it.” Brian grins.

They hang out for a couple minutes before taking off to have dinner over at Christine’s mom’s house.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” I ask, sinking down onto our loveseat while Will picks up his blocks.

“Why don’t we go out tonight?” he suggests.

I reach for my phone. “Want to invite your mom?”

If anyone said three years ago that I’d be saying that, I wouldn’t have believed it. Now that she likes me, we’ve grown closer than I could have imagined.

Will reaches for my leg, sliding his hand under the cuff of my jeans and up my calf. “How about a romantic dinner, just the two of us?”

I’ve been in love with Will Price since middle school, and with a simple caress he can still make me warm all over.

“Okay,” I breathe.

He stands, offering me his hand to help me up. Together, we walk up to our room. He showers as I decide what to wear in our shared, deep walk-in closet. I get distracted, trailing my fingers over his button-up shirts. Even though we wash our clothes together, there’s always a faint hint of his cologne left on his.

Instead of picking out anything to wear, I’m standing in our closet sniffing Will’s shirts. I still haven’t made up my mind by the time he’s done. His damp chest presses against my back, small drops of water falling from his hair to hit my shoulder as he wraps his arms around me.

“Maybe we should stay in.” One of his hands drifts up to cup me through my bra.

I turn my face and kiss the underside of his jaw, licking stray drops clinging to his scruff.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he says.

Even though I’m not wearing much to begin with, he slowly undresses me. Like a gift, I’m unwrapped. I want to rush, drag him to our bed and make love to him, but Will is in the mood to take his time. Softly, gently, he kisses my skin until I’m standing in our closet shaking with need. Only then does he lift me up and carry me to our bed.

Afterward, as Will holds me tightly in his arms, I can’t help but hope that maybe we’ve just made a baby.

We stay there, wrapped up in each other, until my stomach grumbles and he offers to go pick up sweet and sour chicken from my favorite Chinese place to make up for not taking me out to dinner. I watch as he pulls on a pair of faded jeans and a University of Georgia hoodie. It’s not fair he looks so impossibly handsome without even trying. I’m certain I look like a mess right now, particularly my hair.

Will has a habit of pulling out whatever clip or band I’ve used to try and control my hair whenever we make love. If it didn’t feel like heaven when his hands were in my hair, I’d make him stop. Too bad I don’t look half as good with sex hair as he does.

“Want a couple eggrolls?” he asks before walking out the door.

I nod, making him grin in return. He loves knowing what I want.

Once he’s gone, I grab my calendar. I’ve been charting my periods to try and figure out when I’m ovulating. Month after month, I hope that this will be the time it doesn’t come. After Sawyer got pregnant, I talked to my doctor. He wanted me to relax and chart my ovulation schedule for nine months before we spoke again. Those nine months ended two months ago, and I’ve been avoiding calling him.

Part of me was certain I wouldn’t need to, that since Will and I have a healthy sex life we’d get pregnant on our own. Based on my calendar, I’m due to start my next period in two weeks. If it comes, that will be my sign that I need to finally call him.

I put my calendar away. Will should be back soon, so I need to tackle my hair and get dressed. I’m downstairs getting a drink when he walks in. I can almost taste my dinner it smells so good.

“Where do you want to eat?”

“Let’s eat in the living room and watch a movie,” I suggest.

“My turn to pick.” Will grins, setting the bag down on our island.

“Nothing too scary,” I plead.

“But I like it when you try and hide behind me,” Will teases.

I smirk at him until he rounds the island and kisses it off me. Once I relax in his arms he pulls back, smiling at me. I roll my eyes and turn to grab plates, handing one to him. This is a pretty standard night for us, Chinese food and a movie. I was excited when he mentioned going out, but there truly isn’t anything I’d rather do than hang out at home with my Will.

Working from home has only perpetuated my homebody tendencies. When I still lived in Colorado, I had Sawyer to drag me out. She was, and still is, a social butterfly. I spent my time working on our new house and transitioning my business from having a physical office set-up to being one hundred percent remote.

I was too busy to establish new friendships. My house is a haven, with light creamy walls to balance out the rich craftsman-style woodwork that made us fall in love with this house in the first place. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Only now that I’m not busy with work or redecorating, the stillness which greets me each day after Will leaves for work doesn’t bring peace. It brings loneliness.

Will

“Mr. Price, is it okay if I eat lunch in here today?”

My head lifts as I notice one of my eighth-grade students standing in the doorway to my classroom.

Generally, the kids should be eating in the cafeteria, but Logan has been having a rough time so I’ll make an exception. “Sure.”

My classroom is shaped like a rectangle, with storage cabinets, shelves and a couple of sinks lining every wall except for the one behind my desk. I rearrange the tables depending on what we’re working on every so often. Right now, all of the work tables are paired off to make squares.

He walks quietly toward the back of the class to the table where he normally sits and pulls out his lunch. Keeping my head down so it looks like I’m reading something on my computer, I watch him eat. It’s hard to tell from this far away, but it looks as though all he has is popcorn. There’s no way that will fill up a growing eighth grader.

I brought in leftover Chinese food from this weekend. I haven’t started eating it, but Logan doesn’t know that.

“Hey, Logan, do you like Hunan chicken?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know, never had it.”

I stand, lifting my container. “Are you allergic to anything? And do you like spicy food?”

He looks at the container in my hands. “No allergies, and sometimes.”

“Mrs. Price was supposed to come meet me for lunch,” I lie. “Something came up, and she can’t come now. I hate throwing food away, but I’m stuffed. Want to try some?”

He gulps, slowly nodding.

“Grab an empty cup and get some water from the fountain first. I wasn’t joking when I said it was spicy.”

He does as I asked while I sneak a peek in his lunch bag, confirming there isn’t anything else in it.

“It’s on your table,” I say, passing him as I walk back to my desk. “Let me know if you like it.”

I try not to watch him eat, so I focus on loading grades into the system. The software allows students and their parents to log in and get the most up-to-date grading information. The system only works if I actually make the time to enter the assignments as we go instead of letting them pile up on my desk. Teaching art, I rarely have students struggle to pass my class. I’m an elective, so they all want to be here.

“Can I go get some more water, Mr. Price?” Logan asks, now standing beside my desk, my empty Tupperware container in his hand.

“Sure, did you like it?”

He nods, smiling. “It was good, just real spicy, like you said.”

After downing his water, Logan heads out to his next class, pausing in the doorway. “Is it okay if I eat lunch in here again tomorrow, Mr. Price?”

“You’re always welcome as long as I’m in here,” I reply.

“Thanks, Mr. Price.”

I nod and he’s gone. I glance down at what was going to be my lunch, snapping the lid back on it and slipping the now-empty container into my bag. I have a stash of emergency granola bars in my desk, and I have enough time to inhale two of them before my next class starts.

I’ve had Logan in one of my classes for the last three years. His dad is a reservist currently overseas. His mom passed away when he was in elementary school, so while his dad is in South Korea he’s living with his grandparents. From what I understand, both are in poor health.

Logan is a good kid. He loves coming to art class and he’s one of those students I feel honored to teach. At the end of the day, I’m sure I learned more from him than the other way around.