Nothing Feels Better (Better Love 3)

“Please, Mom! Please?” Jude cuts her off and she narrows her eyes at him. He doesn’t take the hint. “Please can he, Mom? I’ll be so good. I’ll be the most good and I’ll make Doonie be nice and I’ll pick up all the things when I’m done. He can be here a day an a morrow.”

A day an a morrow?I chuckle. I’m gonna need a translator with this kid.

“It’s not a problem,” I assure her with a smile.

She shakes her head again. “That’s very kind, Jesse, and no offense, I’m sure you’re great, but I really don’t know you.”

“You kinda do, though,” I reason. “You know a lot about me.”

“I do?”

“Sure. You know I’m a pre-med student at Butler and I shadowed Dr. Rana. I also volunteer at Kindred Spirit Hospital, and to be approved for that I had to have a background check done and be up-to-date on all my vaccinations. You know I knit and donate hats to Knots of Love through Roxanne, and you know that Roxanne adores me.”

When she doesn’t immediately cut me off, I continue.

“Some other notable stuff to help my case… I’ve been accepted to Harvard Med, which, not to brag, is pretty baller because they only have an acceptance rate of 3.5%. My mom and dad both work in the medical field. I speak conversational Spanish. I have an IQ of 160. I’ve never had a speeding ticket. I’m an only child. I can play the guitar and the piano, but I’m a horrible singer, and I recently discovered that I have a love of old movies and I kind of envy Cary Grant.”

And not in small part because Cary Grant and Sophia Loren had a torrid love affair.

See? Owns. My. Brain.

Jocelyn’s lips twitch at the corners, but her face is still scrunched, forming two little backward parentheses between her eyebrows. I put on my best respectable and trustworthy adult smile. I really did just tell her basically everything impressive about myself, so this feels sorta like an informal job interview, and just like with a job interview, the stuff I purposely left out nags at me.

“How important are these clinical hours?” I ask seriously, and her face falls.

“Extremely important.”

“And you have no one else to watch J-Squared?”

She laughs lightly at the new nickname but shakes her head in confirmation. “No one.”

“Then I’m your guy, Classic. I’ll watch your minis. You can FaceTime us every hour if you want.”

She takes a deep breath, brow furrowed, eyes trained on the ground as she works things out in her head.

“I’m serious. FaceTime us every hour. Every thirty minutes,” I reassure, and she sighs.

“Let me talk to the kids first.”

“I’m okay with it!” Jude shouts, and I reach down and pat his head like a little puppy.

“It’s fine,” a small voice adds from the hallway, and when I look toward it, I find June leaning quietly on the wall. Not sure how long she’s been there. Jocelyn takes another deep breath. Then she looks at me again. I want to reach up and smooth away those little lines between her eyebrows.

“It’s a twelve-hour clinical,” she says.

“It’s cool.”

“I won’t be home until late.”

“I said it’s cool, Joss. I’ve got nowhere to be.” Other than Riggs’s game, but he won’t care if I miss it.

“You’ll have to feed them,” she continues.

I smirk. “I think I can manage.”

Her vibrant green eyes bounce between mine, and I can see the exact moment she makes up her mind and gives in. I don’t hide my smile.

After giving me a brief rundown of info (emergency contact numbers—including her cell, score, the location of the first-aid kit, the kids’ regular routine, etc. etc. etc.), Jocelyn leaves me with her kids for a twelve-hour stretch of time. I’m nervous as hell.

Once she’s out the door, I turn to J-Squared.

“What should we do today, squad?”

“Do you have kids?” Jude asks, catching me off guard.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “Not ready for ‘em.”

“Why not?”

I shrug again. “Too young for kids.”

“Mom was twenty,” June pipes up, and when I look at her, her face is pensive. What the fuck do I say to that?

“My birthday is in a couple a days,” Jude continues.

“Oh cool!” I say, but when I look at June, she shakes her head no.

“It’s not for months,” she says coolly, but Jude just keeps jabbering, unfazed.

“Do you have a scooter?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Don’t need one.”

“Why?”

“Got legs.”