Jeremiah
“Dammit, Elle,” I muttered under my breath. I had half a mind not to answer the door, but I knew she would stand out there all night, knocking and calling out my name. She was as hard-headed as her dad had been.
I put Amelia down in the pack and play in the living room next to her sister. Neither baby was sleeping – they were both fighting it, even though it was obvious they were tired. They had been cranky all evening, their little eyes trying to close, but they kept on fighting for some reason. Every time I thought one of them was about to doze off, the other would start crying and wake her sister. They were feeding off each other, and likely feeding off my stress.
Why did I think I could be a single father? I suck at this, I thought, as the two babies cried and squirmed. I wanted to hold them both, snuggle them close and tell them it would all be okay. But I wasn’t sure if it would be and didn’t want to cause them more stress with my own discomfort.
“Jeremiah, I know you’re in there. I hear those babies,” Elle called loudly, punctuating her words with more knocks.
I sighed and headed for the door. I swung it open, and without an invitation, Elle walked inside, her laptop bag in one hand, her Michael Kors bag in the other.
“Let me at ’em,” she said with a determined smile and a teasing chuckle. She dropped the bags on the floor and walked to the babies, picking up the loudest of the two, Amelia, and cradling her.
“Shh, sweet girl,” she whispered, rocking her and kissing the top of her head. Amelia quieted within a few seconds.
Damn, she was good.
I walked over and picked up Grace, who was whimpering but no longer crying. Once Elle had stepped into the room, the stressful energy vanished. It was like she re-set everything just by walking in a room.
I was jealous.
As if she read my mind, she said, “You’re too stressed. You need to relax, Jeremiah.”
“You keep telling me that, but it’s easier said than done,” I grumbled.
“How can anyone be stressed around these sweeties?” Elle said, running her hand over Amelia’s head and through her silky hair. The baby stared up at her with curiosity.
“You’re just so good with them,” I murmured. “You’ll make a great mother one day.” Elle visibly flinched as if my words had been a fist coming at her. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, it’s just…” Elle nibbled her lower lip and refused to meet my gaze. “Well, I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but I fear it may not be in the cards for me. It’s a touchy subject.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea-I mean, I don’t know what your situation is, but there’s always adoption and…” Elle looked at me and I said, “Sorry. I should change the subject now.”
Grace’s little eyes began to close, and Amelia was already asleep in Elle’s arms. Just like that.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just, I’m not sure if I’ll meet the right guy, and if I do, either my career or the children will have to suffer. I’m not sure I can do both, not with how much I work.”
“I understand.”
Elle’s face fell, but she noticed Amelia asleep in her arms and a smile appeared on her face. “At least I can be a part of their life. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Well, you’re always welcome to come over and help. God knows I need it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll always be around to help. You’ll never have to ask me twice to watch these little angels. Should we put them to bed in the nursery?”
“Yes, follow me,” I said, lowering my voice since Grace had just dozed off.
Elle followed me into the nursery, and we carefully put the babies down. Quietly, we snuck out of the room, and once we were back in the living room, I laughed quietly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to do that.” “Have you had a chance to eat?” she asked.
It seemed like an odd question, but I hadn’t had a chance to have dinner yet. “No, afraid not. You hungry?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but I was more worried about you. You’ve got a lot going on. Let me make you dinner?”
I was taken aback by her offer. No one had ever come into my home and offered to make me dinner. I scratched my beard. “Not sure if there’s much to work with.”
“That’s okay. I’m good at improvising,” she said with a shrug, heading to the kitchen before I could stop her.
She kept calling my daughter’s angels, but I had to wonder if she was one too.
Her hips swished as she hustled down the hallway, and my gaze fell to her ass. I couldn’t help it, though as soon as I realized what I was doing, I scolded myself.
It was hard to imagine she was the same little girl I helped Carl with all those years ago. She was no longer a precocious child; she was a woman – and a beautiful one at that. Both inside and out.
She’ll make a very lucky man very happy one day, I thought. If only I could find someone like her. Someone who loved my girls as much as she already did, who was as good with them as she was. Someone with a heart as big as hers.
I shook my head at myself. I shouldn’t be holding my best friend’s daughter up as the ideal woman for me, but it was true.
I needed to find me someone like Elle, but closer to my own age.
I followed her into the kitchen, and she was bent over, digging through one of the cabinets near the floor. Her skirt had risen, and I caught a glimpse of pink panties. My cheeks turned about as pink as the lacy fabric, and I had to adjust myself in my pants, turning away from her as I cleared my throat, announcing my presence.
“Where do you keep your skillets?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that I had caught a glimpse of her underwear.
“Uhh, check the dishwasher.”
“You’re not supposed to put those in the dishwasher!” I heard the cabinet close, and it felt safe to turn around. After all, it would look pretty silly to be staring at a wall instead of looking at the person I was speaking to.
She was standing up, thankfully, and shooting me a disappointed look.
“What? I’ve been busy, I didn’t even think about it,” I defended. “I don’t always have time to breathe, much less wash dishes.”
Her frown disappeared, and a more sympathetic look replaced it. “I’m sorry, I should come over and help you more.”
“No, you shouldn’t. I’m a grown man and can take care of myself.”
“You’re also a single dad to two infants. It doesn’t make you less of a man to ask for help, Jeremiah.” She pulled out the skillet and shook her head but didn’t say anything more about it. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out something. “Make a shopping list, and I can pick things up for you tomorrow after work and drop them off.”
“I can go to the grocery store myself.”
“I have to take Mom a few times a week anyway. It’s no bother, really.”
“It’s alright. I can handle the shopping, Elle. You just caught me in a bad time.” Yeah, because I’ve been spending so much of my time being questioned about crimes I didn’t commit.
She didn’t argue with me. I heard sizzling from the frying pan, and the smell of bacon hit my nose. I hadn’t really been hungry before that moment, but my stomach growled at the smell.
“Breakfast for dinner will have to do,” she announced. “Bacon and eggs, no biscuits or anything. Does that sound alright?”
“Yeah, it sounds perfect. Better than what I would have had on my own.”
She looked over her shoulder, and I hated that look of pity on her face. I hated that she felt sorry for me.
“Would you like a beer?” I asked, moving to the fridge.
“Sure, but you know I don’t drink much.”
“I know,” I said with a chuckle. “Ever since that lecture I gave you that night.”
She blushed cutely and turned away from me, focusing on the food. I handed her a beer and wandered to the kitchen table, where I popped open mine and took a big swig.
Elle finished cooking fairly quickly, plating the food and bringing it over to the table.
“My dad always loved breakfast for dinner,” she said, chuckling. “He always said, food is food, it doesn’t matter
-”
I finished her sentence for her- “what time of day it is.
It all goes down the same.”
“Yes! God, I miss his French toast. I don’t know what he did, but he did something that made it taste better than any
I’ve had before.”
“Nutmeg and cinnamon in the egg mixture,” I said, taking a big bite. The food tasted delicious; the bacon was crispy but not overdone, just the way I liked it. Just the way Elle liked it too. We’d had breakfast together many times, when I’d stop by for a visit at her dad’s place early on the weekends.
“That’s the secret?” she asked, chuckling and shaking her head. “All these years, I had no idea.”
“Yep. He loved nutmeg. He put that stuff on everything.”
Elle took a bite of bacon and seemed to be lost in thought. “Huh, I guess he did. I never noticed. Sometimes it feels like I didn’t even know him at all.”
“A child will never know everything about their parents.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wish I could.”
There was a long silence as we ate the rest of our food.
“Does it ever feel like you never really know anyone?” she asked, staring down at her empty plate.
“I think so. We may not know everything about someone. We may not know that nutmeg is their favorite spice or everything they did in the past, but the things that matter? Yes, it’s possible.”
“And what matters? Who decides what’s important and what’s not when knowing someone?”
I shrugged and licked my fork clean, placing it on the plate. “You sure do ask hard questions, Elle. Always did.”
She grinned at me. “Some things don’t change.”
I thought about her question for a long while, but she ended up answering it on her own.
“You know, what matters is up to the individual, but I think we can all agree that some parts of a person are more important than others. Like, can you trust them? Are they the type of person who will be there for you when you need them?”
“It almost feels like you’re going somewhere with this. Like it’s relevant to everything that’s going on.”
“I am,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Because people keep asking me how I can still believe your innocent, even as the evidence continues to stack up. It’s because I know the things that matter about you. I know the type of person you are. And you’re not someone who would accept bribes, and you’re most certainly not a murderer.”
She stood up and walked over to me, reaching for my plate. I grabbed her hand, intending to stop her since I should do the dishes. She’d cooked, after all.
But when I grabbed her hand, she just stopped and stared at me, her brown eyes the color of sweet bourbon, a golden tinge to them that I’d never noticed before.
Her lips were pink, and not from lipstick.
I didn’t even know who made the first move, but somehow, those lips came closer and were touching mine.
So soft and warm.
Her tongue was velvety soft against my own.
Her jacket fell to the floor with a whoosh, her silk shirt brushing against my hands as I fisted the material, pulling at it.
Elle moved closer to me, climbing into my lap. Her body pressed against my erection, grinding against me. Her movements were clumsy. The chair wasn’t sturdy enough for both of us. The sound of glass shattering pulled my attention from her body against mine.
And I realized what I was doing.
I jerked away from her mouth and dropped my hands. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t-”
Elle stepped back, getting to her feet. Her cheeks were no longer pink, but bright red. She wouldn’t meet my gaze.
I stood up too, to find the empty plate on the floor, in pieces along with the beer bottle. “I need to clean this up,” I muttered, trying to distract myself from what had just happened.
That didn’t just happen. It couldn’t have. I didn’t just kiss my deceased best friend’s daughter. I didn’t just have her in my lap, grinding against my erection. The erection that I had for her.
“I think you should go,” I mumbled, not looking at her.
“No,” she said. Just a simple one-word response to my request.
“Excuse me?” I said, looking up in surprise.
“No, I’m not going anywhere. I came here to help you, Jeremiah, and I’m not leaving until we figure out what we’re going to do.”
She stood in my kitchen, her chin kicked out defiantly, hands crossed in front of her chest. Her cheeks were slowly returning to their normal color.
“Elle, we just-” I couldn’t put into words what we’d just done. It still felt so wrong to me. So very wrong. I looked down at the mess on the floor, feeling it was the perfect metaphor for my life at the moment.
But then I looked back up and saw her. Her beautiful blonde hair had fallen from loose around her face, and she looked more dishevelled than I’d ever seen her before.
But God, she still looked like an angel to me. My cock twitched in my pants, aching as it pressed against my jeans.
She needed to leave. I had to get her out of there before I did something stupid. Again.