I snort a laugh and watch Josie with amusement, who pulls a pink cake from the refrigerator at the end of her final lap.
“To celebrate an A,” she says, setting the cake down in the center of the table.
“And my C-plus!” Jay exclaims.
“And your C-plus,” Josie agrees.
She slices the cake, divvying pieces onto small paper plates and hands one to each of us.
“Mom, did you know the Education Foundation is throwing a New Year’s ball?” Abby asks between bites. “I heard some of my teachers talking about it in the library. There was a flier hanging and they were all standing reading it.”
“Hmm,” Josie hums noncommittally.
“You gonna go? One of them said the proceeds go to the school. Since you’re a teacher, I figured you’d go.” Abby looks up from her cake, waiting for a response.
Josie takes a beat to respond, chewing another bite of cake first.
“Honey, I don’t know if that’s my kind of thing. A bunch of stuffy adults there with a spouse or significant other. I’d feel weird going alone.”
“Take Tyler.” Abby looks between Josie and me, not missing a beat.
Our eyes lock across the table and I cock a brow in a challenge.
Josie hesitates for one, two, maybe three heartbeats, eyes bouncing from Abby to me.
“Tyler doesn’t wanna go to a New Year’s ball, Abs,” Josie counters.
“Actually,” I begin, “if you’d like to go, I’d be honored to take you to a New Year’s ball.”
From my peripheral vision, Abby is grinning ear to ear, but my eyes never leave Josie’s.
“You guys are weird,” Jay says, interrupting the moment. “Can I go play my game, Mom?”
“Sure, son,” Josie replies, still looking at me.
Once we finish our cake, Abby heads to FaceTime her friend, but Josie and I stay put. A very large part of me hopes Josie is staying in the kitchen to talk with me, but by the way she’s silently rinsing each dish and placing it in the dishwasher, I might be mistaken.
I help by dampening a cloth to wipe down her counters and table. Finally, Josie lets out a long sigh, turning to face me.
“Tyler, I want to apologize for shutting you out. I don’t know how to do this with you. My life is changing so quickly between my grandmother and then your arrival. I feel like I’m flailing about while I try to find my footing in this new reality. The other night my emotions were all over the place, but I shouldn’t have shut you out. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“Of course, but Jo”—I lower my voice—“soon we have to tell Abby. I’m trying to be patient and let you take your time with this like you asked. But this is hard. Sitting here with her each day letting this big secret hang between us. I don’t like it.”
Josie stops washing and turns, leaning a hip on the counter. “Do you think she already knows? Today she and Amelia saw my flowers and Amelia made a joke about you being Abby’s dad. I’ve been standing here trying to decide if she’s trying to parent-trap us.”
My mouth hooks up at that. “No clue. Would it be so bad if she did?”
Josie pauses and chews the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know. Eventually, we’ll have to rip the Band-Aid off. If she hasn’t figured it out, she might be hurt or upset at first. Sometimes she pulls back while she processes her emotions. So expect that.”
“I can handle that.”
“Guess she gets that from me,” Josie says, finally looking at me, and I twist my lips, inclining my head. “Looks like I don’t process mine very well either.”
She turns back to the dishwasher, putting the last dish in while I take a seat at the kitchen table, watching her as she folds a dish towel, then unfolds it, and folds it again, draping it over the handle of the stove. Finally, she heaves a breath and spins to face me.
“Thank you again for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
