Coming around the island, she put a hand on his arm. “He’s going to be fine. So are you.”
He looked down at her and was instantly carried back five or six months, when he’d met this woman who had doled out enough encouragement and kindness that he—a van-living loser who’d been kicked out by his pregnant girlfriend—had actually applied for culinary school.
Somehow, organically, Kate Wylie had taken on the role of a mother in his life, and it really had nothing to do with the fact that she’d fallen in love with his father. She’d filled a hole that had nearly swallowed him for fifteen years, and her place in his heart was secure.
“Fine? Right now, I’m not so sure.” He zipped the bag and looked at Atlas, happily gumming the ear of his stuffed elephant with the peaceful ignorance of someone who had no idea his world was about to change.
“He’s going to be fine,” Kate repeated, reaching over to stroke Atlas’s head with a tender touch. “We all are.”
The words and the hitch in her voice caught his attention, along with her sudden scan of the countertops. “Any chance you saw my glasses?”
He snorted softly. “No, but I know you have three more pairs upstairs.”
“I do and it’s fine. I can make coffee blind. Can I get you a to-go cup?”
“What if he hates it, Kate?” he asked, too wrapped up in his issues to even respond to the offer. “What if he feels abandoned or ignored or gets some virus that makes him need ear tubes and hates me for the rest of his life?”
She gave a soft laugh. “He will probably feel…different,” she said with her science-y tone. “He’ll get a virus eventually, but that will build his immune system, and the ear tubes? Doubtful, but you can then be grateful for modern medicine.” She finished filling the filter with coffee and slid it into place. “He will never hate you. I promise.”
Surprisingly, the words soothed. “You always know what to say.”
She gave a little grunt and a flicker of her eyes. “Not always.”
He eyed her, the defeated tone so out of character. “You okay, Kate?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “Let’s worry about you today. Are you ready for the interview?”
“Yeah, I guess. I’ve read everything ever written about the woman, am prepared for hard questions, a kitchen test if she makes me take one—I’ve got my knives—and I’m going in recommended by the best. Am I ready for Sunny Days Child Center? Remains to be seen.”
She regarded him with narrowed eyes, which were easy to see when she had her glasses off. “As much as I want to tell you to leave Atlas with me today, I know you’d be iffy with Emma alone, and Viv and I are going wedding dress shopping with Tessa. She didn’t want a big gang there, so my mother is going to be home and she?—”
“No, no. I have to do this,” he said, holding up a hand before she presented another option. “I don’t want Atlas to be a nuisance to anyone…but me.” He turned to his son, caught a smile, and his heart melted. “You hear that?” He tapped his tiny nose. “You’remynuisance. And who knows? You might end up being Valedictorian of the Infant Room.”
Kate laughed and gave him a light hug. “Whatever happens today, you’ll figure it out. That’s what parents do—they try whatever they can for their kids, trust their gut, and find solutions.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” She squeezed him again. “You’ve come so far, Jonah. Your mother would be so proud of you, you know that?”
The mention of his mom hit him somewhere deep. Kate had never met Melissa Lawson, but she talked about her sometimes, always with respect and a little awe. He loved that.
“Thanks, Kate,” he said, and meant it for about a hundred things she’d never know. He dipped his head a little closer to whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? Is it Emma? The lab? I cantell when you’re working out some complex formula and not liking the answer. Oh! Formula! I need that extra bottle!”
He spun at the thought, making her laugh.
Once he’d packed it, she helped him get Atlas out of the bouncy seat, admiring his blue striped T-shirt with a sailboat on the front.
“Yes, I’m okay,” she assured him, lifting Atlas high enough to press her nose in his belly and make him giggle. “And you, sweet Atlas, have the best day at school!”
Jonah gave her a kiss on the head and took his son, bag, and borrowed optimism. He loaded them all into the Honda, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.
He should be more worried about the Driftwood interview than a few hours at daycare, but that wasn’t the case.
Atlas babbled happily during the drive, grabbing his own feet and making sounds that Jonah had started to catalog—the happy gurgle, the hungry whine, the pre-meltdown hitch. Right now, it was the happy gurgle, which felt like a good omen.
Sunny Days was in a single-story stucco building that had probably been an accountant’s office in a former life. The parking lot was small, the landscaping was paltry, and the front door had a handwritten sign that said: “Welcome, Little Friends!” in letters decorated with smiley-face suns.
Jonah sat in the car for a full minute after turning off the engine before climbing out to get Atlas out of his rear-facing seat.
