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After the batting cages, we went back to Peter’s house for dinner with his young family.
“Uncle Jon!”
I scooped up Michael, my three-year-old nephew. “Hey, buddy. You have to stop growing! You’re going to be bigger than me soon.”
“No, I’m not,” he said.
I rubbed his head and squatted low to say hello to my niece. “Hi, Carmen,” I said, smiling. “Your dress is very pretty.”
She picked at the pink fabric. “I like purple better,” the six-year-old said.
“Me too, but pink is nice.”
Emily, the youngest, crawled toward me. “Emily, come on, walk for Uncle Jon. Show me those big girl legs.”
She made it to me and crawled into my arms. She was pretty much the cutest baby on the planet. She slapped at my cheeks. I grabbed her little hand and pretended to chew on it. She immediately burst into laughter. She was almost one and had been crawling for a while, but according to Peter, she showed no interest in walking. Not when she had a big sister to tote her around.
“Don’t you want a couple of these?” Peter teased.
“One day,” I said. With Emily on my hip, I followed him into the living room with the kids in tow. I put Emily on the floor. She immediately stood between my knees after I sat on the couch.
“So, about the accountant,” he said trailing off.
“No.” I shook my head. “If and when I decide to find a woman to give me a couple of kids, it will be on my terms.”
“You’re not getting any younger,” he reminded me.
“Nope, but you know that doesn’t matter,” I said with a grin.
“Do you really think you’re going to be able to chase after one of these after the age of sixty?” he asked. “I know you want a family. It’s time you give up on that ghost and move on with your life.”
“I know. I will. Maybe I already have.”
“If you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out.
9
MACY
Irolled to my side, ignoring the daylight pouring through the window. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Fortunately, I didn’t have to get out of bed. It was Sunday. I didn’t need to do anything but chill.
And pet the very demanding cat.
I rubbed behind his ears and mulled over the last week. I’d had an epiphany when I decided to find a new job. It was a huge weight off my shoulders, but now I needed to actually find a job. It was dumb to do one interview and wait. If I really wanted to leave my job, I needed to be putting in lots of applications and going on more interviews.
I just really wanted this job. I couldn’t explain why. It just seemed like a good place to work. I liked the environment. I liked that it was in an upscale building. It even smelled so much better than my current job. I’d had a taste of what it could be like outside that stuffy, dank office. I wanted it bad. I could taste it.
I believed I had a real chance of getting the job. I probably shouldn’t be so hopeful, but I was convinced I had nailed it. The interviewers said I had cleared the first hurdle but there was another interview and possibly a third before I could claim to be a real contender. I liked how thorough they were being. If I did land the job, it would be a huge feat. It would be equivalent to staking my flag on a mountaintop. If I didn’t get the job, I could comfort myself and explain the loss was because of the stiff competition and their strict requirements.
Handcock let me know he was finished with the affection by nipping at my hand. “Rude,” I scolded.
He got up, stretched, hopped off the bed, and waited by the door for me to let him out. “We really need to talk about what it means to sleep in,” I muttered.
I opened the door while he darted out and raced to the kitchen for his breakfast. I trailed along with no enthusiasm to start the day. I would have been perfectly content to lounge around doing nothing for at least another hour. I started some coffee and pulled out the bag of pancake mix.
“Good morning,” Trisha said.
“Good morning. I’m making pancakes. I feel like stuffing my face.”
