Julian's Pursuit (20 page)

“Okay, I’m ready,” she announced. “Let’s go.”

Andrea snapped the lid to her laptop shut. “I’m going, too. I have to make sure you guys pick the right shade of yellow.”

“Are we all going?” I asked.

“I guess so.” Andrea reached for her purse and was already halfway out the door. “C’mon, Julian,” she called after me. “Let’s boogie!”

As I was swiping my wallet and keys off the kitchen counter, Sadie touched my elbow. “Hey, do you mind just going with my mom? Evan’s still out like a log and I don’t wanna wake him up.”

Unable to resist, I drew her firmly against me and kissed her. “Nope,” I said, grabbing her ass, squeezing it as I deepened the kiss. “Don’t mind at all.”

“You know, I’m glad you’ve stuck around.” Andrea shot me a sideways glance as we coasted down the freeway. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t run for the hills.”

I kept my eyes on the road. “Why would I?”

“Let’s be real.” She laughed a little. “Sadie isn’t actually a constant fucking delight.”

“Who is?” I shot her a quick sideways grin. “Anyway, I want you to know that I find your daughter very lovely, and very delightful.”

“I’m glad you think so.” There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes before her expression turned serious. “You don’t think we’re too much for you, do you? Too dysfunctional?”

“I think every family is dysfunctional, whether they want to admit it or not.”

“Oh, I’ll readily admit I’m a hot mess.” Turning toward the window, she said nothing for a while, then, “Sadie was only a kid when she had to take care of me. Not the other way around.” She exhaled hard. “And she had to mature way ahead of her time. She’s always been the strong one, you know. When my husband left, she was the one who kept her head and moved us forward. She’s worked solidly since she was sixteen and she’s never had a break, never been on a holiday.”

I tightened my hands around the steering wheel. Although Sadie and I had been seeing each other for almost a month now, she rarely ever talked about herself, and I was glad to finally get a glimpse into her past.

After a quiet minute, Andrea spoke again. “Sometimes being a single mom can be the loneliest job in the world.” She sighed. “And Sadie hasn’t dated in years. In fact, I’ve never seen her date at all.”

“Never?”

“Never,” she said. “You’re the first. And the two of you just seem to work.” She paused. “Why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure,” I said truthfully. “When we first started dating, I knew I wasn’t the only man in her life. And I was completely okay with that.”

“Well, you can’t blame her, can you? She’s had Evan since she was eighteen and they’ve been through absolutely everything together.”

“I know,” I said. “And trust me, Andrea, I understand that Evan will always be her main man, and I’m cool with that. I’m confident in what we have.”

“Good,” she said. “And I want you to know that Sadie’s not looking for a provider, she already provides very well for herself. And she’s not looking for a father for Evan, either. She’s just looking for—”

“Love?”

“I was going to say companionship.” A smile flitted across her face. “I wasn’t going to use the L word in case I scared you off.”

My chest moved in a silent chuckle. “I’m not that easy to scare off.” I cruised to the end of the exit ramp, braked for a second, then turned right. “Is that what happened with her ex? He got scared and took off?”

“If you’re referring to Evan’s dad, I have no idea who he is. Never even met the guy. All I know is she got pregnant her freshman year in college and dropped out after she had Evan.”

“Did she ever want to go back to finish college?”

“I’m sure she wanted to, but there was never any time. She put herself on the back burner to take care of us. Then later she got the job at the ad agency and she’s never mentioned college since.”

“Was that her major in college?” I asked, without taking my eyes off the road. “Advertising?”

“I’m pretty sure it was Accounting, or something like that.”

“Accounting?” I said with some surprise. “I thought surely it was English Lit or Latin, or something to do with the Classics.”

“I know, right?” Andrea agreed. “I thought she’d major in Humanities or something like that. Mythologies, you know, that’s always been her thing.”

I swung my car into the Home Depot parking lot. “It’s still her thing, isn’t it?”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “It is! She’s even got Evan hooked on those mythologies.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Good Gravy!” Andrea expelled an annoyed groan. “I do! You need to tell that poor boy a real bedtime story some time. He needs to know that life is not some depressing Greek tragedy, you know what I mean?”

“I know.” I pulled into an open spot and threw the car in park. “But you want to know the greatest tragedy of all?”

“What?”

I cut the engine. “We’re here to buy paint so we can paint your cabinets a yellowish green.”

“Chartreuse!” Andrea corrected, her voice trailing off on a laugh. “Chartreuse!”

Chapter Twenty-One

It was a group effort. Everyone pitched in—Mom, Julian, even Evan. Not only did we paint the cabinets yellow—
chartreuse yellow
—we painted the walls, too.

In a shade of paint called Woodrow Wilson Putty.

“Huh?” I asked Julian. “What’s up with the paint name? Woodrow Wilson Putty? Seriously?”

He just shrugged. “Half the fun with picking out paint is the WTF names.”

“Mom.” Evan tugged at my sleeve. “What does WTF stand for?”

Without missing a beat, Julian answered, “Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.”

Evan blinked at him. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

I smiled, feeling immensely proud of my son. I took pride in raising him to be a healthy skeptic.

“Well, WTF can mean many things.” Julian’s tone turned serious. “It can mean Welcome To Finland or Where’s The Food or What’s The Forecast. It can also mean Waste Treatment Facility or Wild Turkey Festival.”

“Boo.” I gave him a thumbs-down. “Way To Fail.”

“Well,” Julian countered. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I rose to the challenge. “Why The Face?” Bending down, I pinched Evan’s chubby little cheeks. “Wasn’t That Funny?”

Evan shook his head slowly. “Holy bat poo! That was… Worse Than Failure.”

“Oh, snap.” Mom cackled with laughter. “That boy is throwing some shade at you! Major shade! Enough to block tans from happening in weeks.”

Meanwhile Julian and Evan were busy exchanging fist bumps. “Mister E,” Julian said sagely. “That’s by far the best acronym ever, my man! I wouldn’t be surprised if you became POTUS one day.”

Evan stared at Julian as if he were speaking Urdu.

When Julian saw the puzzled look on my son’s face, he explained, “POTUS. It stands for President of the United States.”

“Hmm.” I gave a careless shrug. “Didn’t know about that one.”

“And,” Julian added, pinning me with a hot stare. “Your mom is my FLOTUS.”

“FLOTUS, huh?” I barely concealed my laughter.

First Lady of the United States.
I thought about it briefly and came to a decision that I like it.

“Yeah.” He tantalized me with his heated stare. “You’re my first lady.”

Our gazes locked, neither of us smiling as the sexual tension heightened to a painful state. And then Mom had to go ahead and ruin the moment. “Oh! I have a good one,” she cried. “PMS. Purchase More Shoes, Punish Men Severely, and Prepare to Meet Satan.”

Evan looked deeply confounded, and I wasn’t about to explain PMS to my six-year-old. “All right, guys.” I snapped my fingers. “As your first lady, I say Chop! Chop! Let’s get to work. These cabinets aren’t gonna paint themselves.”

“But I have one more, Mom,” Evan declared, quite firmly.

“Go for it,” I said, reaching for a paintbrush.

“WTF… Work, Time, Fun,” Evan said, pink with pride. “Because work time with you guys is fun.”

A fresh wave of hilarity swept through the room and Julian gave Evan a one-armed hug. “Another good one, E. Just don’t go around saying WTF at school. Okay, bud?”

“Okay,” Evan said easily.

In the end, it was as Evan said—work, time, and fun, especially after Julian started a paint fight and we ended up getting more paint on us than on the walls and cabinets.

But I wasn’t complaining. I soaked up the moments of laughter he brought into our home.

His dry, sarcastic wit appealed to my mom’s sensibilities, and he could elicit laughs from Evan when he turned on his charm.

I found that incredibly attractive about him.

“Hey, Julian,” Mom hollered.

“Yes, ma’am?” he said ultra-politely, laying on the charm like a good Army boy.

“When are you gonna go for that Starbucks run you promised?”

“Soon,” he assured her. “Very soon.”

“Get me a pumpkin spice latte,” she ordered.

“Will do,” Julian said.

I shook my head. “I don’t see what the big deal is about pumpkin spice lattes. It’s overrated if you ask me.”

“
My
.” Mom placed a hand over her chest and clucked her tongue. “Aren’t you just a
special snowflake
?”

I merely raised my eyes heavenward.

“Hey, Andrea,” Julian said moments later.

“Yes, darlin’?” she drawled.

His gaze flicked to hers as he extended the roller toward the paint tray. “Do you sometimes feel like if more than fifty people genuinely like something, it’s suddenly the most uncool thing ever? I enjoy pumpkin spice lattes, so shoot me!”

“Girl, preach!” Mom shrieked merrily, waving her arms in the air, causing paint to fly in every which direction. “That’s
exactly
how I feel! I’m so happy someone
gets
me right now! And you know what? I need to play that Happy song by Will Ferrell.”

“Grammy.” Evan’s eyes practically rolled off his head. “Will Ferrell doesn’t sing that song! It’s Pharrell Williams.”

“Are you sure?” Mom asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Absotively posilutely,” Evan shot back.

“Pssst.” I elbowed Julian in the ribs while Mom was busy scrolling through her iPod. “Do you really like pumpkin spice lattes?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the P sound. “But I know your mom does.”

“Pssh! You’re such an ass kisser.”

Without warning, he lashed out with his paintbrush, slapping it smartly across my nose. “Now you’re a brownnoser.”

“Oh,
hell
no.” I got him back, then he got me back, and then a full on paint fight broke out.

“This is war!” Julian declared. “The blood will splatter far and wide before this is over.”

It was a paint fight that ended all paint fights—our hair, our faces, our clothes were all covered in hues of Woodrow Wilson Putty and Chartreuse.

Later that night, as I lay in my unmade bed with my door slightly ajar, I could hear Julian reading Evan a bedtime story.

He was using silly, overly dramatic voices to make the characters in his story come to life. At one point he even got Evan involved in making up the plot and naming the characters as they went along.

As I listened to the sounds of their playful laughter and goofy voices, it dawned on me that I hadn’t heard Evan laugh this hard in a while. Not in a long, long while.

It hit my heart with all the force of an arrow loosed from a bow.

It pierced through me and touched a place inside me so deep and forgotten I thought it had long been dead.

Julian may not be his dad
, I thought.
But the more people my son has on his team, the better.

Chapter Twenty-Two

By the time I slipped into her room, Sadie was already in bed, looking sleep tousled and sexy in a thin cotton T-shirt. The soft material emphasized the swell of her breasts and the hem ended mid-thigh, exposing her endless legs. From where I stood, I could tell she was completely nude under the shirt. No bra. No panties.

It caused a spiral of heat to surge straight to my groin.

She stirred slightly as I joined her in bed. Spooning her body tight against mine, I nuzzled my lips against her neck.