Maybe Nate was fucking avoiding me.
It’d been days, goddammit. We saw each other in passing every day, but that was about it. Always with the kids nearby, always with one of us headed somewhere. He wasn’t really looking me in the eye either. It bothered me. Like, what the fuck did it mean?
I read Jordan’s message next.
You will be there the whole time? I don’t know why, but I’m super nervous. I’ll ask James what date works for him. I think he has something planned with Emmett on the 5th.
Sweet boy. I’d hold his hand through the whole thing if he wanted me to.
The light turned green, so I would have to respond in a bit.
He’d been so excited last night. He’d run straight into my arms when I’d come home from Nate’s parents’, rambling about how some of the brats had “officially” invited him to join their Brat Squad.
Aforementioned brats obviously wanted Jordan to come out to Mclean for the big meet-up, the face-to-face introductions, and the boy was suddenly shy. But I supposed it made sense from previous stories I’d heard. Before Jordan got comfortable in his goofball shoes, he was timid and careful. However, still ambitious. He had, after all, signed up for one of Nate’s bondage demos—and now the masquerade ball too.
It seemed no matter what he did and how he acted, I just found him fucking adorable.
I checked the time as I turned into the parking lot. Grocery shopping, then home. Where Jordan was hopefully waiting. He’d volunteered to watch Paws whenever he was off work, and he was having a slow week. The opposite of Nathan.
Before I climbed out of my truck, I replied to Jordan.
I’ll be right by your side until you decide that your new brat buddies are cooler to hang out with than me. ;) If you think about it, this will be a good warm-up for both the ball and the bondage session. I’ll be home soon.
Go figure. When Nate finally texted, it was all about the kids.
No need to come over. Micah’s half asleep, and Lily passed out in the car. I’ll see you tomorrow morning instead.
I sighed and threw the phone next to me on the couch, and then I sank lower into the cushions and scrubbed my hands over my face.
“I heard that sigh all the way in the kitchen, Sir!” Jordan hollered.
I hummed and unbuttoned my jeans. No point in keeping my outdoor clothes on. I should’ve changed into sweats the moment I got home, but no, I’d stupidly assumed I’d head over to Nate’s when he had picked up the kids. The bedtime routine and all?—
Jordan skidded into the living room, carrying a bag of popcorn and a juice box.
“No running with food, little one,” I reminded him.
“Oops!” He skidded to a stop right before the rug and grinned sheepishly.
I was fucking whipped. He flashed one of those grins, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Your home issocozy now.” He joined me on the couch. Unlike me, he’d arrived in pajamas. “Did I mention you have a lot of pictures of your kids?”
I chuckled drowsily and flicked a glance at the walls. Ma had helped me. I’d sent her an epic fuck-ton of photos straight from my phone, and she’d gone through hundreds of them, edited her favorites, and sent back maybe eighty. Then she’d ordered frames for each one as a housewarming gift.
They were more important than the furniture. Amazing memories from road trips, national parks, holidays, birthday parties, and games frozen in time. First time I took Dylan to an Eagles game, Hallie holding a trophy from a soccer tournament, Mikey and me in a ball pit, Lily as a baby asleep on my chest…
Nate was in many of the photos too. Maybe I was planning on spending the rest of my life in denial, but I wanted to be surrounded by my family, and he was the one I’d chosen to start that family with.
Jordan snuggled closer and threw some popcorn into his mouth. “You look sad, Sir. Is it about Mister Nathan? Was that why you sighed super loud? If you’re leaving, I can watch Paws.”
I turned and kissed his cheek. “I’m not leavin’. He doesn’t need me tonight.”
He tilted his head at me and lifted a brow. “I think he needs you every night, Grumpypants. Don’t lose faith.”
It was my turn to lift a brow. “Are you calling me Grumpypants?”
Amusement lit his eyes, and he crammed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, effectively preventing him from speaking.
