Page 81 of Gross Misconduct

Me? Not so much.

Because every time I glance toward Jack, something flips in my stomach that shouldn’t be flipping. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be this amazing with my girls. He shouldn’t be making me feel this kind of happiness that is new to me, opening me up into scary places. He smiles at me in between nodding at June’s commentary, and I have to look away because it causes my stomach to flip again.

My mind jumps ahead to the end of this night. How the hell are we going to say goodbye? It was one thing to bump into him at Caroline’s, but then it spiraled into this truly wonderful day. All I can think about is ending things with a good night kiss, which is totally off limits. The good juju does not require a good night kiss.

This whole day has been a mistake because I’m supposed to be kicking his ass a week from tomorrow. He’s supposed to be an overconfident asshole. We’re not supposed to hang out, and he’s definitely not supposed to endear himself to my girls.

What the hell is going to happen when he leaves? Is it just going to be asee yaand wave? Or do we shake hands? Will he try to hug me? Is there a tiny chance he might try to kiss me?

“Daddy, you seem confused?”

I blink and find Annabelle looking back at me. She sips from her Olaf-branded water bottle.

“The snowman is now talking. Do we need to rewind?” Jack asks.

He tries to take the remote from me, and our fingers touch, eliciting an electric response that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. I can smash into him on the ice no problem, but a finger touch threatens to knock me down.

What if I took Jack’s hand? What if I brushed my calloused thumb over his bumpy knuckles and liked it? What if I admitted that today was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time? Being with Jack makes me believe that I’m living my life exactly as I should, that waiting for him to be my first with a guy was the right move because there is no better man than him.

Jack doesn’t pretend to watch the movie. He watches for real. The girls keep looking back at him, waiting for his reaction to a musical number or plot beat, and he serves every time. And when he glances at me for my reaction, I struggle to keep my face muted when my desire to kiss him keeps gaining strength inside me like a hurricane headed for the Florida coast.

I’ve seen this movie enough times to know how much longer until it ends. With each second, the countdown clock pounds in my head. Because once it’s over, the girls will go to bed, and Jack will go home, and we will have to say goodbye. With a head nod, a handshake, a hug, or a kiss.

It’s not going to be a kiss, I tell myself. Jack is being nice to the girls. That’s all.

We reach the final number. Elsa and Anna find true love in their sisterhood. Why the hell am I thinking about Jack whenever they mention true love? He’s probably the conniving prince.

Everyone on screen gets their happy ending. The girls yawn. One of them may already be asleep. The credits roll. It’s over. This incredible day and night are done.

I stop the movie mid-credits, an exciting panic flinging itself around in my chest. I imagine this is how people feel while on a good first date.

I sit in my seat for a few extra moments, admiring how peaceful the girls are, afraid to look at Jack.

The quiet, the darkness, the twinkly lights. It’s all too romantic, and I need it to go away.

I stand up and clean up the popcorn kernels from the floor. The more I can focus on the task at hand, the better. Jack squats next to me. I can smell his woodsy cologne.

“I’m going to have half of those songs stuck in my head, won’t I?”

“Oh, no question.”

His laughter sends a warm and fuzzy bolt down my spine.

“I’m going to get them into their beds.” I nod down at the girls, fast asleep in the pile on the blankets.

“I’ll help.” Jack gives me a thumbs up.

I carry Annabelle down, while Jack carries June. Their tiny chests move up and down with each breath. There is nothing more peaceful in this world than watching your child sleep.

They don’t fight us when we tuck them into their beds, instead rolling over into a continued slumber. I won’t tell their mother that they didn’t brush their teeth. One missed night won’t destroy their oral hygiene.

I watch them from the doorway, thanking God I get to be their father. I can’t be mad about being in the closet until I was in my forties because I got to have them. I turn and find Jack watching me.

“They’re the best,” Jack says. “And they have a great dad, too.”

I worry one more compliment will make me want to pull him into a kiss. I sidestep Jack and head downstairs to the front door. Jack follows a second later.

“I guess it’s that time. Thanks for letting me crash your day with your girls.”

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