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He and Taylor left, but Jordan lingered long enough to give me a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll be back. Call me if you need anything.”
“Is that all I get?” I replied. “Not a proper goodbye kiss?”
He hesitated. “Well, with the baby in your arms…”
“He doesn’t mind. I promise.”
Jordan grinned, then folded me into his arms and lowered his lips to mine. For five long, glorious seconds I was entranced under the spell of his kiss and his embrace.
“Better?” he asked softly, face still close to mine.
“Much better.” I sighed happily. “Last night was much better, too.”
“Better than what?”
“Um. Better thannotdoing it?” I said. “It was good, is what I’m trying to say.”
“It was.” Jordan pointed at me while backing away. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
I smiled as he disappeared into the engine room. When I heard the fire engine rumble away, I twisted Baby Anthony around to face me.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us, little man.”
He blinked as if he wasn’t sure what to think about that.
Throughout my life, I was close to my dad.Reallyclose, more than just your typical daddy’s girl. I told him everything. Which boys I liked, what school subjects I was struggling in. I even told him about the seventh grade girls who picked on me for being big-boned. That was something I didn’t even tellmomabout.
Dad was a good listener, and always had some sage advice to impart on me, no matter the subject.
I could use some of that advice right now.
Growing up, I was never close with my older brother Jason. But once dad died, we leaned on each other for support, and were much closer than before. He didn’t exactly fill the role dad had played in my life, but as far as substitutes went, he wasn’t too bad. He was downright acceptable. And he was always there for me, with little-to-no judgment.
After feeding Baby Anthony, I gave him a call. He picked up on the second ring. “There’s my favorite little sister.”
“I’m youronlylittle sister,” I pointed out.
“Both of those statements are true. How’s it going, sis?”
We spent a few minutes talking about him. How Maurice—his husband—was doing, and their baby LeBron. Eventually, the subject naturally segued to me.
“I kind of need some advice about taking care of an infant.”
He hesitated. “Why? Are you babysitting on the side, or something?”
“Or something…”
I explained the situation to him. He made sad, sympathetic sounds when he heard about the surrendered baby. But by the end, he was laughing uproariously.
“You’re babysitting at a fire station? Don’t tell Maurice. He’ll insist on coming down to visit. I think being surrounded by a dozen sweaty firemen is one of his all-time fantasies.”
“There’s not a dozen of them. Just three.”
“Three is plenty. Are they cute? Could this turn into a romantic relationship with any of them?”
“Well, funny you mention that…” I lowered my voice, even though I was alone in the fire station. “I slept with one of them. His name is Jordan.”
“That’s fantastic! Just don’t tell mom. She’ll start bugging you about grandchildren. She mentioned that the first time I told her about Maurice, and we had only been dating a month at that point.”
