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But Joss wasn’t having any of it.
Trains weren’t going to distract him from the fact that there was a strange man in their house and his mommy was full of over-the-top tension.
“Do your trains make noise?” Trace asked, not giving up.
“Can you tell your daddy what your trains say?”
With a shy glance toward Trace, then a return to burying his face into her neck, Joss shook his head. He wasn’t an overly shy child, typically, but no doubt the surprise of an unexpected houseguest and the fact they’d been arguing hadn’t set the right tone. Trace should have gotten a hotel, let her talk to Joss and ease him into the idea of having a daddy.
Or maybe she should have just told Joss about his dad from the beginning. Or vice versa.
“Can I show him your trains?” she asked, hoping to help break the ice, but Joss shook his head.
“Pancakes.”
“Okay,” she agreed with her son’s one-word response, then glanced at Trace. “Trace, why don’t you help me cook breakfast? Joss can help, too. He’s a really great helper.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHRISSIE WASN’T SURE what was running through Joss’s head, but he’d not let her out of his sight all day. He didn’t have the opportunity to meet many strangers, but she’d not realized quite how clingy he was. Maybe it was that he’d met Trace in such an unusual way within their home and their raised voices had possibly awakened him. Regardless, her son had been superclingy and had wanted to be held more than he had since he’d first learned to walk.
Not that she didn’t normally love the opportunity to hold her usually energetic three-year-old fireball, but Joss’s clinginess was over exaggerated and breaking her heart for Trace.
They’d stayed in, played trains, watched one of Joss’s favorite cartoon movies, and then gone for a walk around her neighborhood, while pushing him in his stroller. She’d made them grilled cheese sandwiches and cut fresh fruit for their lunch. To her surprise Trace had cleaned the kitchen while she’d colored with Joss. When he’d joined them, Joss had given him a suspicious look, but had shared a crayon and one of his books.
She’d tried to sneak away to start a load of laundry, a never-ending job, but Joss followed her into the tiny room off the kitchen where the washer and dryer were located and stayed with her until she’d finished.
She’d cooked dinner, given Joss a bath, read a half-dozen stories, and eventually he’d gone to sleep.
Trace had been right there all day, but Joss hadn’t warmed to him despite his great efforts.
It bothered Chrissie a great deal.
Partly because Joss had never responded to anyone in such a guarded way. But mostly, because she knew her son treating his father as a stranger was her fault.
Because she hadn’t included him in Joss’s life.
She could make a thousand excuses, some of them valid, some of them less so. No excuse changed the truth. It was her fault Joss didn’t know and love Trace.
She couldn’t make her son warm up to his father, but she could do her best to make sure he didn’t pick up on bad vibes from her.
Easier said than done.
She’d fought vibes all day.
Nervous vibes.
Scared-about-her-future vibes.
Attracted-to-a-man-she-was-pretty-sure-hated-her vibes.
How could he not?
She couldn’t blame him. Wouldn’t she hate someone who had kept such a precious miracle from her?
But how could she have known Trace would want to know Joss?
Duh. That one was easy. She could have known if she’d told him, given him the opportunity to make the choice of whether or not he wanted to be a part of their son’s lif
