Page 22 of Entirely Yours
Jules just raises his eyebrow at me.
Alright, I’ve had enough of this. “I’m a grown”—stomp—“ass”—stomp—“woman!”Stomp. “And I can take care of myself.” My arms cross over my chest in defiance.
Dad saunters over and shoves a milkshake in my face. I narrow my eyes before taking a few sips. He narrows his eyes right back—I did learn from the best, after all—and asks, “Done with your little hissy fit?”
“Depends on what else you have in that bag.”
His large mustache twitches as he finds a spot on the floor next to Chloe. “Sorry, Junior, didn’t know you were gunna be here or I’d’ve brought you a milkshake,” he says to Jules.
“It’s Jules, sir.” Jules clears his throat. “Julien,” he clarifies.
“He has some peanut butter crackers if he’s hungry.” I take a seat next to Chloe, leaving room for Jules if he decides to join us.
“AB!” Chloe calls from her place on the floor. “My flowers are dead.” She looks up at Jules with blatant skepticism, and I have to turn my head to hide my smile.
“AB?” Jules asks. He joins us on the ground, and it strikes me how much he just… fits here.
“Almost-Ben. Get it? Because it starts with A and B?” Chloe is clearly very proud of herself for coming up with this.
“What do I have to do to get you to call me Jules?”
I scoff. “Chlo is really big on nicknames so good luck with that.”
My snarky daughter takes a bite of her chicken nuggets and says, “Maybe if you get me new flowers.”
An hour later, I’m full of fast food and good conversation.
“Time to get this hooligan to bed.” Dad tugs on Chloe’s pigtail, urging her toward the door. When he gets right up next to me, he leans in and whispers, “Let Junior help.”
I peek over his shoulder and lock eyes with Jules. His hands are shoved in his pockets, a loose hair falling out of his bun. He looks so fucking earnest, even after suffering through dinner on the floor of a broken-down dance studio with a broken-down family he’s seemingly okay with inserting himself into.
I nod at Dad before scooping Chloe into my arms. “Goodnight, my chicken. I’ll be home soon, okay?”
She grabs my face between her two hands and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You’re my favorite mommy,” she says.
“You’re my favorite Chloe,” I echo. Then they’re off.
It’s silent for a few moments, only the sound of the space heater running fills the room. I take Jules in, and he seems to bask in the attention. He’s so handsome, it hurts. And, not for the first time, I have the thoughtWhy does he care about me?
I wince at my constant internal monologue, and he catches it. He takes a few tentative steps toward me, like he’s worried I’ll evaporate into thin air if he moves too quickly.
“Did I do something wrong?” Jules finally asks, coming to a stop a foot or so away.
“Jules…” My head falls forward. How do I explain something I don’t really understand myself?
I feel his finger brush under my chin, guiding my eyes back to him. “Tell me about Chloe’s dad.”
Immediately it feels like the wrong thing to say. Thea rears back, a look of disgust on her face. But I can see through it. She’s like a wild mustang—she’s scared so she spooks easily, always ready to be on the defensive.
I want her to realize she doesn’t have to defend herself against me.
“I’m sorry,” I start. “I’m not trying to pry, just trying to understand.”
“And you feel like one dinner together gives you the right to ask something so personal?” she retorts.
“No, it doesn’t. But if I ever do earn that right, and trust me, I intend to, I want you to know that there’s nothing that’s going to scare me off. No choice you’ve made that I will ever have any right to judge, even if I do earn your confidence.” I move slightly closer to her and make sure she’s looking at me when I say, “I can tell you are one hell of a mom to that littlegirl. You love her fiercely and, God, she’s fucking adorable. I’m sorry for asking something too personal—I just want to know you. Both of you.”
I place a tentative kiss on the top of her forehead, holding still for a moment too long. Then I turn, take the paint sample that Chloe and I liked, and walk out the door. “See you tomorrow, Thea,” I call, willing myself not to look back.
