Page 107 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Alba giggles. “All right, next up. In ‘Clara the Caterpillar Spreads Her Wings,' how long does it take for Clara to change from a chrysalis into a butterfly?”
Jagger turns to me, frowning, obviously stumped for the first time. We put our heads together, murmuring quietly and trying to recount the various stages of the damn caterpillar’s metamorphosis. In the end, we mess it up completely and give the wrong answer. But my little boy is determined to study harder, and I promise to take him to the library every day this week so we can prepare.
After breakfast, Alba asks if she can take a quick shower. I scoff at the ridiculous question, demanding that she make herself at home and telling her to help herself to anything in my T-shirt drawer.
When she’s gone, Jagger rounds the table and plops down in the chair beside me. “Hey, Dad?”
Out of nowhere, I’m reminded of the lingering paternity test results. My chest aches at the prospect of not getting to hear him call me that anymore. I hurriedly push the thought away.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
“Can I ask you a question?” His big eyes look up at me.
“Of course. Always. I want you to know you can ask me anything. Okay, little man?”
“Okay.” Still he hesitates. “Well…I know that you’re my dad, and that Mimi’s my aunt. But I was wondering, why can’t we all live together? My friend, Danny, says that families are supposed to live in the same house. You, me and Mimi—we’re sort of like a family, right?”
“Oh.” Dang, this guy always has tough questions. I try to approach it delicately. “Well, there’s all different types of families. I didn’t even really know my dad. I grew up with just my mom and my brothers. Anyway your aunt, Alba, and me? We’re just friends. And we both love you very much, even though we don’t live together.”
But even as I say it out loud, I know deep down, I don’treally feel that way. Lately, I’m starting to wish that Alba and me actually were together to be quite honest. But I’d never tell Jagger that. It would only confuse him.
“Well, sometimes I wish we all lived together, so I could see you both all the time.”
“That’s understandable,” I say, afraid that I’m going to say what’s really on my mind. Something like,me too.
He’s quiet for a while before he speaks again. “Dad?”
“Yeah, Buddy?”
“I’m sorry you don’t know your father.” He reaches over and pats me on the bicep. “I’m glad I know you, though.”
I pull him over into my arms, trying to speak over my tightening throat. I wrap my arms around him in a tight bear hug, kissing the top of his head. “Me too, son. Me too.”
Alba comes back from the shower and finds Jagger and me in a tight embrace. Her hands clasp over her chest and the most radiant smile unfolds across her face when our eyes meet. I like knowing I’m partially responsible for that swoony look of hers.
But I’m immediately distracted when I notice what she’s wearing. She’s barefoot with her wet red curls tied up in a high knot. The sexy denim short-shorts are back, showing off her pale, smooth thighs. But this time, she’s paired it with a hockey jersey.
Myhockey jersey.
The red and white fabric of the oversized Sin Valley Saints uniform shirt drips from her narrow shoulders. My team logo—a smirking angel wielding a hockey stick—stretches over her sweet tits. Thank god I’m sitting because the sight of Alba Anderson in my team colors could knock me flat on my ass right now.
I clear the knot from my throat, turning my attention tomy son. “Hey Buddy, how about you go play in your room while Mimi and I clean up the kitchen?”
Jagger looks at me, eyes twinkling. “I get to skip chores today?!”
“You get to skip chores today,” I confirm.
“Best weekend ever!” he shouts.
I chuckle, giving his shoulder a little tap. “Now, scoot! Before I change my mind.”
Giggling, the little boy hops up off my lap and darts toward the staircase.
When I turn my attention back to Alba, she’s still wearing that mischievous grin. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Turn around,” I command, my voice nothing but a growl.
A sassy little smile crosses her face and I expect her to make me beg. I totally would, by the way. But she spins around like a good girl and shows me my name, printed in bold red letters across her back, right above the number 33.
