Page 7 of This Time Around
Paige gave a smile that made Allie’s ovaries ache just a little. “Do you need any help with dinner?”
“I think I have it covered, but let me check.” Allie bit her lip, stupidly unsure of herself. Was it okay to let a ten-year-old slice bread or snip the stems of the sunflowers Jack had given her? She had no idea, but it was probably best not to hand her any sharp objects until she knew for sure. She hated how undone she felt at the sight of a kid. Allie had always assumed she’d have children of her own by now. That she’d instinctively know what sort of snacks they ate or what activities were age appropriate.
But instead, she was thirty-six years old and completely clueless about kids. And Jack Carpenter wasn’t. How the hell did that happen?
“You can help yourself to the tapenade,” Allie offered. “The um—the stuff right there on the table? It’s really good on those crackers.”
Did kids eat tapenade? Paige looked dubious.
“Thank you,” the girl said politely. She glanced at the fig and olive mixture Allie had stayed up late making the night before, then picked up a cracker.
Allie let her gaze drift to the glass clutched in Paige’s other hand, and she grimaced at the words printed on the side. You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning.
She glared at Wade, who pretended not to notice. Feeling like the world’s worst hostess, she marched into the kitchen and began bustling around, trying to ignore the way her hands kept shaking. She snipped the ends off the sunflowers and stuck them in another crystal vase her parents had somehow managed to save when the Feds liquidated their estate.
She set the flowers on the dining room table, then turned to start pulling things out of the fridge—clams, broth, the tarragon pesto sealed up tight in a glass container. She flipped on her gas stove, wondering if she should just stick her head in the oven and get it over with.
When a hand touched her elbow, she jumped.
“Easy there, Albatross,” Wade said. He stuck a glass of white wine in her hand and Allie wrapped her fingers around the stem.
“Thanks.” She took a fortifying sip.
“You okay?”
Allie nodded, then darted a glance toward the living room.
“Don’t worry,” Wade murmured. “She’s in the bathroom throwing up the tapenade, and he’s rifling through your underwear drawer.”
“Wade—”
“I’m kidding. He’s still on his phone in the guest room, and the kid is drinking apple juice and flipping through your Glamour magazine in the living room.”
Allie frowned. “Where did you get apple juice?”
“That big brown bottle in the fridge. Smelled like apple juice, anyway.”
“Wade! That’s kombucha. Doesn’t kombucha have alcohol in it?”
He took a step back and held up his hands in defense. “Like a tiny little fraction of a percent. Less than orange juice that’s been left out on the counter too long.”
“I wouldn’t give her that to drink, either!”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I see kids drinking kombucha all the time.”
She shook her head as guilt pooled in her belly. “And that issue of Glamour has a bunch of celebrities posing topless. Jack’s been here less than ten minutes and I’ve already gotten his kid drunk and showed her porn.”
“Allie, relax.” Wade caught her elbows in his hands and gave her a squeeze. “You’re doing fine.”
She closed her eyes, and her brain filled with that first glimpse of Paige. God, she’d had no idea. A kid? And a dead wife? Why hadn’t she done some homework the instant Jack reached out instead of assuming she knew how his life turned out?
Jack used to chide her for doing exactly that back in college. “To assume is to make an ass out of u and me.” Had she learned nothing these last sixteen years?
She opened her eyes to see Wade watching her. “Tell me honestly, did I look like a total idiot when I opened the door?”
“You hardly batted an eyelash.”
“You’re a good friend, Wade.”
