Word has it that opposites attract. Jessica Keith would give the pithy expression two middle fingers because a wild party girl like her and the prim do-gooder, Matthew Parkinson are opposites hopeless to attract, let alone breathe the same air.
Howe...
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Jessica
The calendar never left my hand. With the boiling frustration I have been holding back, I'm afraid I might accidentally rip it apart. I told Chloe I like it so much that I want to hold it all day. It was a lie and I felt bad for lying. But it was the only way I can spare the calendar from getting horrific makeovers – as if the state it is in right now is not bad enough.
Cade came by to pick up his kids and wife. I'm pretty sure it was a relief that I've seen in his eyes when he didn't see the triplets racing toward him. Thank God, they're probably still making paper airplanes in the playroom.
No hyperactive kids. Just a sweet wife who threw her arms around his neck and kissed him in the front door.
I felt like a creep for a full minute when I stood in the hallway, watching the whole interaction between the two.
I watched when Kathie opened the door and squealed like a teenage girl at the sight of her husband. I watched Cade's poker face melted into a soft, little smile. I stood there in the hallway like an idiot, waiting for their little bubble to pop and finally take notice of me.
Cade looks over her shoulder, blue eyes acknowledging that there was someone else in their bubble. "Hi, Jess. I brought you donuts."
Just like that, I no longer feel like a creep. "You did?"
"Yes. I hope you're hungry." He showed me a box of donuts.
My face must've shown the appreciation because I heard him say, "you're welcome."
"I'll go get the kids ready." Kathie peck on his cheek and left.
Cade handed over the box, his gaze dropping to the calendar I hold against my chest. "What's going on with that?"
I took the box. "I just love this calendar. You want a donut?"
His lips twitched. "Sure."
"Let's get this into the kitchen before the kids see. They've had enough sugar."
He trailed behind me. "How's everything?"
I laid the box on the counter and opened it greedily. "Everything's fine. Everybody's keeping their hands to themselves."
"Oh?"
"Mm-hmm." I gestured him to join me in stuffing my face with donuts – everything either strawberry-frosted, strawberry-glazed, and strawberry-filled. "God, I love your dedication to strawberries. You should make your own strawberry farm."
"I hope you don't mind. The donut place always gives me my usual." He picked up a strawberry-glazed donut and took a graceful bite. Back when I didn't know him well, I would've never pegged him as someone with a ginormous sweet tooth.
"Oh, no worries. This is one of the things that don't surprise me anymore."
"So, everything good then? Nothing 'not-good' in particular?" He takes another delicate bite.
