Jack pulls back from me and looks me in the eye. I think for one moment that this is some twisted trick of my imagination, but then Jack puts his arm around my waist and pulls me to him hard. He touches my lips with his finger for just a second as if he’s checking to see if they’re real. Then he presses his lips to mine and kisses me slow and deep. His hands move into my hair, gripping tight like he’s hanging on for life. I hope he is. I am.
Guys—I just dug up my father’s ashes and made out with my ex-husband. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.
The kiss ends, and I take a moment to catch my breath.
“There’s something else I need to do,” I say.
Jack looks at me quizzically.
“It’s not anything weird.”
“Comparatively?” He touches my hair again.
“Everything’s relative.”
We get back into the car, and I drive to our condo building.
“Did you need to get a change of clothes?” he asks.
“No. I need to show you something.”
We ride the elevator up in silence. Jack is holding Dad’s urn. I turn on the light in the entry hall, and Jack looks around like he’s never seen the place. I go inside, but he hesitates at the door.
“Come in,” I say. “You don’t need an invitation.”
Jack holds onto Dad and steps inside. I motion Jack toward the nursery door.
“I need to show you this,” I say.
“Nina.” Jack’s voice is suddenly breathy with fear and trepidation. “I’ve seen the room. I’ve seen it too much. I can’t go back to this.”
I open the door and turn on the light. The room is empty. I stand in the middle of the space.
Jack steps in. He sets Dad on the floor.
“I created a shrine to something that wasn’t going to happen,” I say. “I polished it and decorated it. Meanwhile, everything else was getting covered in dust. Forgotten.”
I take his hand and pull him from that room to Cassie’s room. I open her door and turn on the light. This room is alive with teenage girl—pictures on the mirror, clothes on the bed, posters on the wall, fingernail polish and hair accessories flung across the dresser.
“I was looking for a miracle across the hall,” I say. “When there was one right here.” I move closer to Jack and put my hand over his heart. “And another one right here.”
He puts his hand over mine, and I know there is hope for sure.
“The woman from your office?” I ask, and he raises his eyebrows at my change of subject. “Did she want something more?”
“Yes.”
“Is she still there?”
“No.” He takes hold of both of my hands. “She left. Her replacement is terrible. He’s not nearly as cute.”
I give him a look, and he nods concession. “Ok, so we’re not making jokes yet. Maybe we never will. That’s ok. I have absolutely no desire to break up our family. I don’t want to live in a terribly sad apartment on the opposite side of town from you and Cassie. I also have no delusions that fixing this will be easy. I’m ok with that. I’m ok with a period of difficulty so long as it’s putting us back together again. I’m not ready to give up.” Jack looks directly into my eyes. “Are you?”
I can’t speak around the lump in my throat, so I shake my head.
“Good,” he says. “Now, I don’t want to keep running into you with that guy—even if he is a priest.” Jack winks at me, turning his command into a request.
“Technically he’s not a priest yet,” I say. “But he will be.”
“Is that the guy you kissed in the parking lot at the nursing home?”
“And a few times after that, too,” I confess.
Jack turns one of my hands loose and motions for me to stop. “I don’t want to know about that. I don’t care. Wait—how close to being a priest is this guy? Did you two, you know . . .”
“No, we didn’t,” I say. “He was pretty saintly actually.”
Jack nods. “Good,” he says. He steps across the hall and picks up Dad’s urn again. “A priest,” he says and chuckles. He thumbs his finger toward the front door. “I think we should get this show on the road.”
26
“Do you want us to wait in the car?” Jack asks when I pull up in front of Nicole’s apartment building. I love that he says “us.”
“You’re neck deep already,” I say, shutting off the engine and unbuckling my seat belt. “No sense sitting it out now.”
I ring Nicole’s bell and wait. Jack stands with Dad in the crook of his arm. We stare at the door.
“I really appreciate this, by the way,” I say, not looking at him.
“I’m not sure appreciation is the right sentiment for this.” Jack shifts Dad to the other arm. “It seems a little lackluster.”
I look at him, thinking he’s serious, but he’s smiling instead.
“I’ll try to do better later,” I say.
“I missed you, you know,” Jack says. “That’s the whole story. Beginning, middle, and end.”
I can’t keep a smile from dividing the clouds on my face. I hear noise behind the door, and then it opens. Nicole looks perplexed. Not surprised—perplexed. She doesn’t say hello.
“Come to Thanksgiving dinner with us,” I say. “With me and Jack and Dad.”
“What?” she asks, looking at Jack and then at the urn.
“I’m sorry,” I say, something occurring to me. “I’m assuming you don’t already have plans.”
“Actually,” Nicole says, still looking at the urn, “Ray invited me. But I’m not sure I’m over it yet. I know he was trying to make it better with that news stunt, but I’m just not sure.”
“That was Ray?” Jack asks. “The guys at work were talking about that video, but I didn’t see it. What’s he done now?”
“He left me while I was pregnant and then he got sent to prison,” Nicole says. “Then he kidnapped our son.”
Jack’s mouth opens and he looks at me. “Ray has a kid? How
