I wanted to blame the tears on the fact that my boobs were going to explode if I didn’t pump. It definitely had nothing to do with first Jameson’s obvious irritation with my attitude and his confrontation in the elevator, and nothing to do with how much I missed seeing my twins, and completely, utterly, abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with the niceness of leaning against his side and feeling supported for once.
I hadn’t expected it. I went to hug Josie to thank her for looking after the girls but Jameson kept me back so I wouldn’t get contaminated, and instead of releasing me, he tugged me into his side and then he stood there like a massive kick-stand. I didn’t mean to lean against him. I meant to shake off his hand and retreat with some dignity. But in that split second, I could imagine what Kara must have felt when Owen supported her. I could dream for just a few heartbeats that the man next to me was my man and that he was there to support me and take over all the heavy lifting when I got too tired.
Getting back in the elevator and not having that anymore, or at least the dream of that, shocked me too much to tolerate. I fled like a coward into my room so I could pump and cry and feel sorry for myself. I missed the girls desperately and hated that they weren’t feeling well and I wasn’t there to comfort them. I wanted to do more. I needed to do more. There was only so much I could do from a distance with food and cleaning supplies.
Sitting alone while I waited to fill a bottle or two gave me far too much time to think about what Jameson said in the elevator. What had he done to trigger such a reaction? What was it about him that pushed my buttons and made me snap? He hadn’t been precisely awful, but there was something about his tone and everything that just got under my skin. He didn’t deserve it. He’d actually helped me -- with my car, with the cooking, in the elevator...
He was too handsome. Maybe that was it. I couldn’t trust someone with that face and perfect shoulders and the easy confidence of someone who didn’t get intimidated by anything. He was just too perfect and I hated it on sight. I groaned and covered my eyes. Could I really be that shallow?
Maybe he reminded me too much of the twins’ father: pretty face, great ass, a lot of swagger, and unpredictable. Unreliable. A great lay but not the kind of guy who stuck around for the consequences. It was easier to just hold Jameson at arm’s length instead of considering he might be a friend or just an ally. I’d already fallen for a guy like that once, and I feared I would end up losing my heart to Jameson, too. I could see it happening. Definitely. If he stopped being kind of an asshole and did more of that side-hug thing... I was in trouble.
I hid in my room even after I’d pumped because I didn’t want to face him. What were the odds he’d retreated downstairs or was off doing something else? Did I brave the living room or kitchen for something to eat? My stomach growled and I knew I needed to make lunch or at least get dinner ready, and then take more food upstairs. Probably resupply towels and bleach, get a sense of how much sports drink they still needed.
And then I could figure out where those open stores were and I could help get more groceries.
Although... I glanced out the window at the amount of snow still falling, piled up against the side of the building across the street, and shook my head. The stores wouldn’t be open much longer, not if the blizzard stayed over the city. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing Christmas decorations vomited across every square inch of the whole place.
Eventually I couldn’t put it off and braved the living room. Maybe I could make cookies or munchies for the kids. It was hard enough for them to wait for Christmas, but being sick and not knowing if Santa would come... I sighed and tried to suppress my hatred of Christmas. I could suck it up for a few more days, since obviously the families in the building were all super into the holiday.
Jameson wasn’t there, but all the lights were on in the living room and an unbelievably delicious smell wafted from the kitchen. Roast beef, maybe. My mouth watered. The oven was on low, but I didn’t get much farther than the island, where several covered plates waited. A note propped up next to them had spiky, rough handwriting on it: Lunch. Eat up.
Just as abrupt and commanding as the man face-to-face. I meant to roll my eyes and dismiss the food, instead getting some bologna or peanut butter for a sandwich, but I couldn’t resist peeking at what he’d left out for me. More of those amazing dumplings we’d had the night before, that he’d called pelmeni, along with cut veggies and massive slices of turkey and ham for sandwiches. Maybe he thought I could eat twice my weight, since he’d left enough food for five people.
It was one of those random nice things he did, even if the note was a little abrupt. I massaged my temples before I eased onto one of the stools at the island to dig into the pelmeni. I didn’t dare look in the oven in case he had actually started a roast. I’d fall in love with him right then and there if the man cooked proactively. Soup for the people upstairs was one thing, but a roast and all the trimmings... that was something else entirely.
I was so busy stuffing my face and making a to-do list on my phone that I didn’t realize Jameson returned until he walked to the fridge and got a bottle of water. He wore running clothes again, every inch of visible skin red from cold, and snow still coated his hair and the edges of his beard. He smelled manly but not unpleasant, and more like a fresh, crisp winter morning than someone who’d apparently run long enough for his eyelashes to freeze.
My heart thumped oddly as I watched him swallow, the slow up-down of his Adam’s apple distracting, and dragged my attention to the oven so maybe he wouldn’t notice me staring. He had no right to be that attractive. I couldn’t help but remember how he’d said I had a fantastic ass. If my brain had worked right in the moment, I might have returned the compliment.
Jameson refilled the bottle from the sink and glanced into the oven. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“Uh, yeah. Thank you.” I picked up the dishes and started around the island, but stopped short when Jameson leaned to take them from me. “I can do the cleaning up, since you cooked.”
“Nah,” he said. “You’ve got enough to worry about.”
“Like what?” I didn’t want to sound so damn accusatory. How could I not have a normal conversation with that man?
His dark eyebrow arched as he glanced over at me, then he jerked his chin in the general direction of the door. “Your babies.”
My heart skipped and dropped at the same time. “And?”
“Aren’t they enough?” His tone, gentle and close to understanding, cracked what was left of my resolve.
They were too much to worry about, those twins. There were moments I loved them so much I couldn’t breathe, and it terrified me to my core that something would happen to them. Or that I’d fuck them up by being a terrible mother, and a poor mother, and a mother who worked too much, and a mother who couldn’t keep a father-figure around.
My breath hitched. My sinuses burned and I blinked away the emotion. No. I was not going to cry in front of him, especially over him being nice. That was just the worst.
But as I’d learned since being pregnant, once that teary train started, I wasn’t getting off it without a lot of chocolate and a hot bath and a bunch of sappy movies that did not have cartoons in them. Which was to say, since the twins never gave me any peace, I was on that teary train a lot.
I cleared my throat a couple of times and struggled to catch up with the conversation, since he remained silent and waited for a response. “I, uh... They’re a lot, but...”
My voice cracked and shot up an octave, and I stared at him in panic as the tears started in earnest. He would run. I knew it. A guy like that would roll his eyes and retreat to his room to watch football, or he’d throw me some tissues and tell me to hike up my big girl pants. But I couldn’t stop it. I missed my girls. It had been a couple days and it felt like years. They’d probably grown. Maybe they learned to read or figured out a magic trick or something amazing. And I missed it.
They were sick and didn’t feel well. They must have missed me. What if they wondered where I’d gone and why I abandoned them? What if they were scarred for life?
I still stared at nothing, horrified by how selfish I’d been by not barging into that apartment to get my kids, when he caught my shoulder. I tensed, but instead of spinning me around and pushing me out of his way, Jameson drew me in for a hug. He plastered me against his still-cold, slightly sweaty t-shirt and hard chest, and those enormous arms looped around me and held me tight. I took a shaky breath but could not even consider shaking loose. It didn’t matter than he’d been outside and running. Not for a second.
My heart melted almost as fast as the snow that dropped from his hair to his shoulders to mine. I closed my eyes. How the hell was I going to survive another day like that?