“Noooooo!” AJ shrieked. Biscuit started barking, adding to the chorus of obnoxious noises.
OK. Wall eyeliner would have to wait.
I ran downstairs. “Buddy,” James was saying, “we can only play with Play-Doh in the kitchen.”
“But I want Play-Doh while I watch Doc!”
I closed my eyes and slowly looked down to see Play-Doh ground into the gorgeous loose weave of my Stark Natura rug. I leaned over and grabbed the mound off the carpet, cringing at the orange residue jammed well into the fibers.
There was no doubt about it: the kids were winning.
James grimaced.
“It’s OK, it’s OK,” I said. “You know what? I say we pack it up and drive over to the beach.”
James nodded. “Excellent plan, Gransley.”
“I want to go,” Mom chimed in.
“Beach, beach!” Taylor said.
“Yay, beach!” AJ agreed.
“Gransley, I need to tinkle!” AJ exclaimed.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” I said.
I smelled it before he said, “Uh-oh.”
James attempted to cover his laughter with his hand as a puddle of golden liquid formed at AJ’s feet. Well, at least it was on the hardwoods.
“Come on, Taylor,” he said. “We’re going to go out to the guesthouse while Gransley handles this situation.”
Before he could even take his nephew’s hand, I heard a loud burp, and as I turned, a stream of spit-up shot out of Preston’s mouth.
“Oh my God!” James yelled, unstrapping the Baby Björn and holding Preston away from him, the baby’s little legs dangling in the air. James looked down at the spit-up covering his clean, pressed shirt. And the poor guy couldn’t even see the rivulets running down his back.
“Nope. That’s not coming out,” Mom said. Now it was my turn to laugh.
James cocked his head to the side and looked at Preston, “Really, buddy? I keep you clean and fed all weekend and this is how you repay me?”
Mom and I shared a glance. This was a make-or-break moment. Would James get mad, hand us the kid, and run off?
But he just laughed and said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up, big guy.”
“Wow,” Mom said. “I’m impressed.”
James shrugged. “He’s my kid, Grammy. I even love his spit-up.”
THAT EVENING, WHEN EVERYONE was clean, changed, and blowing bubbles on the front porch, James looked over at me and said, “I have a surprise for you.”
I should have bit my tongue, but I couldn’t. “I’ve had about enough of your surprises for one year.”
“Ouch,” he said, wincing. “OK, I deserved that. But I promise you’ll like this one. I met a preschool teacher last week—”
I raised my eyebrow.
He laughed. “Come on, Ans. A sixty-five-year-old preschool teacher. She’s coming to watch the kids and put them to bed while we go out for dinner.”
I gasped. “You’re kidding.”
He looked at me seriously. “I would never kid about something as serious as bath time.”
TWO HOURS LATER, SHOWERED and mercifully childless, we were sitting on the patio at Azure, one of my favorite restaurants, sharing a bottle of Opus One. James ordered it and he was paying, so I figured, why not?
“You impressed me today,” I admitted.
“I did?” he said, taking a sip of the decadent wine.
“Yeah. I honestly thought you’d leave Preston with me, claiming some work emergency or something.”
He laughed. “I know I have flaws, Ansley, but I take my kids seriously.”
I wanted to roll my eyes and ask if that’s why he abandoned them earlier this year for a supermodel.
“Plus,” he said, “I promised Caroline I would do this for her.” He looked at me intently. “I know I screwed our life up royally. But Caroline is my world. I would do anything for her. I will do anything to get back in her good graces.”
The waitress filled my wineglass again and placed our tuna tartare between us. The wine had made me a little loose lipped, so I asked, “Are you shocked she’s giving you another chance?”
“Honestly?”
I nodded.
“Beyond.”
James motioned for me to help myself first. Despite his unfortunate Yankee upbringing, he did have good manners.
I served myself two slices of tuna, a few of the soba noodles, and a bit of the seaweed alongside it, and said, “I know she’s a lot, James. I know she is. I still blame you, but I think even Caroline knows marriages fall apart because of two people.”
He smiled. “She’s a handful, that woman. But her complexity is what makes her so beautiful.” I noticed tears in his eyes as he said, “She is everything, Ansley. She is my life. I will fight to win back her trust until the day I die if that’s what it takes.”
I could feel my heart shift just the tiniest bit. I thought maybe he was sincere, maybe I should be on his team. “That’s good to hear,” I said. “It really is.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, I said, “And the day you die may be really soon if you ever cross her again.”
We both laughed. I took another sip of wine and felt myself relax—until I saw Jack walk through the front door of the restaurant. With Georgia.
James followed my concerned gaze and shook his head.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe because he had been such good company, but for some reason I found it all spilling out to James. The breakup, how I missed Jack, how awful it was to see him with someone else.
He paused for a few seconds, long enough for me to feel like a totally irrational, middle-aged fool of a woman. I was about to formulate some excuse, blame the wine. But then James said, “She’s just some woman, Ansley. For Jack, you’re . . .” He paused. “You’re the moon.”
I smiled and took a sip of wine. As I swallowed, I hoped against hope that James was right. I hoped that someday, somehow, Jack would find his way back to me. That he could find it in his heart to choose me again. That despite what I had put him through, he would take the moon over Georgia.
THIRTEEN
