Jamie
Unlike most Fridays, Jamie had to keep checking his phone. Mom didn’t usually text from bridge—she was too busy playing cutthroat cards—but tonight it was a series of photographs, chronicling a lovely evening with her firstborn child: the paddle boat. Their table for dinner. Their hotel room. She even sent him some musings that really didn’t need to be addressed tonight: I think we need to repaint the back porch. Do you think Stu and Howie would like a paddle boat ride? I’m thinking of redoing the shutters on the house.
He understood what was happening here. She needed to know she was still important in his life, and maybe Mom and Allan had talked a bit about him and Jo on their way, because Mom was also now worried about the future. If she got Jamie talking about the house and committing to changes and updates, then he was still committed to it, and therefore to her. God, he hadn’t even mentioned the apartment to Allan and already Mom was grappling with it.
Maybe it was good, because that meant she’d have plenty of time. She could work through her feelings and yeah, she’d probably recruit Shane to try to guilt Jamie into staying and choosing Mom over Jo like that, except even moving out wouldn’t be choosing one over the other. It was his future, and he could still be there for Mom and be involved in her life without being stuck under her roof.
The roof needed to be replaced before they thought about the shutters. Jamie debated, then gave Mom’s message a thumbs-up and set his phone down again.
All of them were there, and maybe the rest of the group had already anticipated Mom’s neediness because they’d picked Monopoly instead of something where Jamie had to pay attention to every single move. Because he was distracted, either as a means of poking at him or since he wouldn’t actually be paying attention to everything, the others were back on Ricky and Chase’s itemized list.
“I give Jamie five hundred,” Jo proposed.
Ricky nodded. “Valid move.”
“Jo gives Jamie seven fifty,” Dune suggested.
Ricky shook his head. “Jamie gives Jo seven fifty.”
Trevor had a little pad of paper out and added to his notes as Chase ignored the conversation and took the dice.
“Jamie gives Jo five hundred,” Talon proposed, moving his hand to rewind the conversation because they’d missed something.
This made Ricky tilt his head back and forth. “Probably not.”
“Is there something between five and seven fifty?” Jo asked, trying to read Trevor’s handwriting upside down.
“Honey, there are lots of numbers between five and seven fifty,” Ricky responded haughtily.
Chase tilted his head. “Fifty-dollar increments.”
“Well, shoot,” Trevor grumbled, tearing off that page and starting a new one. “Why didn’t you tell us that before?”
He shrugged. “Nobody’s actually asked before.”
Even though he still had one eye on his phone, Jamie grinned and leaned over to nudge Jo’s shoulder. “It’s that curiosity working in your favor.”
“Killed the cat,” Mitch cautioned.
“But satisfaction brought it back,” Jo, Jamie, and Dune chorused together.
Chase blinked. “That can’t be the actual phrase.”
“Sai King would argue otherwise,” Dune sniffed.
Jamie’s phone lit up again and he read the preview without clicking on it: Allan seems to think you’re going to marry Jo. Shit. He blinked and belatedly reached to move the phone, but Jo and Mitch had both already leaned in for a look.
“Damn,” Mitch said in a low voice, blinking a bit guiltily because he clearly hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Ricky reached across the table to pick up Jamie’s phone and get the screen to light up again even if he didn’t try to unlock it, and held it so Chase could see it, too. Sure, guys. Just pass it around. When Jamie looked back down at the table he saw Jo’s phone in front of him, unlocked and on a message from her dad she’d left on read: Mom wants to know if we keep June open or if you’re going to jet off to Vegas some weekend and come back Jo Whittaker.
Uh.
After a beat, Ricky grabbed Jo’s phone, too.
Chase shook his head slowly. “You’d have the same initials. You couldn’t monogram anything.”
Jamie blinked, but Jo, who’d apparently already considered changing her last name, countered, “Or we could monogram everything.”
“June’s too soon for a wedding,” Talon argued, craning his neck for Jo’s phone. “Most places won’t even consider selling you a gown less than a year out.”
Okay, but Talon hadn’t worn a gown. Nobody at this table had worn a gown.
Somehow the table was casually discussing a wedding.
Jo reached out for Jamie’s phone and handed it back to him. “Tell her you haven’t even begun to figure out how to ask me yet, so there’s no telling until you get an answer.”
Ricky clucked his tongue. “Dangerous. Now he’s committing to asking you but you’re so capricious you can’t be trusted.”
“So tell her you haven’t even thought about it yet.” Jo shrugged it off that easily.
Jamie shook his head a little. He had thought about it, but not … now.
“Haven’t even considered asking her yet,” Trevor suggested. “Then you’re not committing to asking, ever.”
“Yeah, do that one,” Jo agreed, and when he looked up at her she smiled and shrugged, like she knew that yet was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
He’d gotten her an apartment. She’d been having a bad morning until she found out about the apartment. This was a conversation he’d have to have with Mom at some point, not to get her permission or even her blessing but to keep her updated. I haven’t thought about asking her yet. He wanted to add more, to pad it with something about Allan’s eternal optimism or point out that this really wasn’t the time, but he just sent the message instead.
Mitch handed Jo her own phone. “I notice you haven’t committed.”
“Two votes for Vegas,” Trevor added, nodding at his husband unnecessarily.
“Three,” Dune said with an apologetic shrug. “Beautiful, but I barely remember anything and it was too stressful.”
Talon shook his head. “I wouldn’t do Vegas if we did it again. Smaller, yeah, sure, travel’s stressful, too.”
Jamie warily watched his phone, but Jo shifted in her chair and put her arm on the back of his, offering some of her space if he wanted it. It helped him take a slow breath and rest his hand on her knee. Why should it matter so much what Mom thought about it? Family mattered, but his happiness should come first. Right? And of course she’d bring it up like this, over text, at a distance, because it would eat at him and mean she got space at the front of his mind.
She didn’t know for sure Jo was staying the night, but she was panicking. Maybe it wasn’t about losing her place in his life, exactly, but the idea that someone else was rising in importance. He’d come if Mom needed him, but instead of right here, in the guest bedroom, he’d have to leave the house he shared with Jo instead.
A new message appeared: Maybe we need to redo the roof before the shutters.
Chapter Forty-One – coming November 10
