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Mel shrugged. “I do what’s required of me.”
Blake stopped at a traffic light and turned to her. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Diminish your worth. You’re amazing, Mel. You’re doing this—you’ve done it—all for them,” he said, nodding toward the backseat. “You managed to raise triplets all on your own, and now you’ve gotten a promotion, and you’re turning your life into what you want it to be, what you want for your children. That’s special.”
“Noted. But now it’s my turn to ask a question,” she said, glancing at him meaningfully.
He turned back to the road, and though he felt her gaze on the side of his face, he kept his focus on driving. For some reason, the prospect of her asking him a question turned his stomach to knots. “Okay, shoot.”
“Where’s Jen?”
He whipped his gaze to her then back again, surprise roiling in his veins.
She laughed as he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “I guess what I mean is, why on earth are you spending your Saturday chauffeuring around a woman and her three kids when I’m sure there’s something more fun you could be doing? Even if fancy dinners aren’t your thing.”
Blake brought a hand to the back of his neck as he gripped the steering wheel with his other until his knuckles turned white. He had hoped she wouldn’t bring up Jen, which was selfish and wrong on so many levels.
He squirmed in his seat. What could he say? The truth was, he should be spending time with Jen instead of accompanying Mel house hunting. His presence with her today, and his absence with Jen was wrong on so many levels. He should be focused on his relationship, smoothing the rough edges after their fight and the tension that had followed them all week. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want to. He’d rather be with Mel and the kids for this special day, however wrong that was.
While his feelings for Jen hadn’t disappeared, lately, it was as though he saw her through a different lens, one that made things look a little distorted and not at all clear. Instead of taking the time to figure out what that all meant, he ignored it. What he really needed to do was a little soul searching, but Blake was afraid of what he might discover.
Clearing his throat in the silence, he said, “We’re not exactly on the best of terms right now.”
“What? Why?” Mel asked, sounding genuinely shocked. “It’s not because of what I said to her at the carnival thing, was it?” Mel turned to him, then gasped and brought a hand up to her chest. “Wait. No. It’s because of last weekend when you left the party, isn’t it?”
Blake screwed up his face but said nothing.
“It is!” she answered for him. “It’s my fault.” She moaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have texted you about that stupid toilet. You’re a fixer. That’s who you are, and I knew if you could, you’d come help.”
Blake scowled. “I’m not a fixer.”
“You are.” Mel nodded and bit her lip. “I could tell the first day I met you, and then the first day you showed up at my place to work for me. Even after you had a hellish day, or so I assume, you agreed to continue on because I needed the help. And, look, your girlfriend’s father doesn’t approve, so what do you do? You try to fix it. You even go to the length of taking leave from your job, your business that you love, to wrangle kids from nine to five to do it.”
She made him sound so . . . Blake wasn’t sure, but was he really a fixer? And if she was right, could that be what he was doing with Mel?
Shaking off the thought, he said, “Regardless, it’s not your fault. I wanted to leave that party, remember? Her father insulted me, and your text was just a convenient excuse. Had I not left, who knows what would’ve happened. Things might’ve gotten even worse. Jen might’ve dumped me right then and there.”
A few seconds passed before Mel sighed. “Maybe,” she said, though she didn’t sound too convincing.
“Definitely. And I’ve seen Jen since then. The first time, admittedly, didn’t go well because I think we both wanted an apology, and neither of us got one, but I saw her last night, and for the most part, it was okay. We’re okay.” He grimaced. It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of his relationship, nor the truth. And though it was true they had spent time together due to premade plans with friends—Jen’s friends—that they had scheduled weeks back, it wasn’t exactly devoid of tension. Both of them avoided bringing up the dinner party, and after everyone called it a night, Blake went back to his place. Still, they hadn’t fought, had they? They just hadn’t really addressed anything.
Regardless, he could make whatever excuses he wanted for his whereabouts today, but the reality was he shouldn’t be there with Mel. He knew it, and Mel probably knew it. He tried to tell himself he came along because he couldn’t fathom allowing the kids to ride all the way there by bus, but it was more than that. In the weeks he’d spent with the children, he’d grown attached to them, and this feeling he had inside every time he thought of Mel . . . well, it wasn’t the feelings a man should have for his “boss,” that was for sure. Two more weeks, and he’d be done nannying. Then he’d be gone, out of their lives for good. The dull ache he got in his chest every time he thought of that spoke volumes. Truth be told, this trip was nothing more than a futile effort to inject himself further into their lives, to know where they might be once he was gone, and, yes, to spend more time with Mel, which meant Blake was in trouble. He’d been ignoring all the signs for far too long.
Silence settled over the car like a heavy blanket. As he glanced over at Mel, gazing serenely out her window, he wished he knew what she was thinking, what was in her heart. And then it dawned on him.
His feelings for Mel weren’t going away anytime soon. They weren’t a fleeting thing. They were real. And no matter how much time he had put into his relationship with Jen, the sooner he acknowledged his feelings for another woman and stopped denying the end of his relationship, the better.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BLAKE
Though lunch went well, with the kids expending some much-needed energy at a local park after, the first couple houses were a total flop. One reeked of mold and had a bad roof, while the other, according to Mel’s realtor, had received an offer just that morning for full asking price. Mel didn’t say it, but Blake gathered, even if Mel fell in love with the home, she wasn’t in a position to offer more than top dollar, nor would he recommend she pay over market. So they were onto the third house, which didn’t seem to deter Mel any. She remained in good spirits despite the two duds, and he hoped, for her sake, this one was a winner.
It only took a few minutes before they turned into the short drive of a modest cape cod with pretty pale-yellow siding, white shutters, and a small white porch. Giant pots of colorful pansies sat on the steps and banister in greeting. From first glance, the house looked great.
“Now, this is what I wanted to see,” Mel said, a smile in her voice.
