The Family Man

Chapter 17

Not even a mouthy newly arrived Jean could metaphorically rain on his parade.

Jack pushed through the front door, Caroline giggling in delight as he swung her over his shoulders and promptly dropped her on the sofa. He threw the massive duffel bag down by the steps and his sister-in-law flashed him a chilly, withering look: "You mind taming the grand entrance down? I'm on the phone."

"For the sexual harrassment suit?"

"Bite me."

He grinned.

In the kitchen, Jackie was sifting through the mail, a pen sticking out from her messy ponytail. She was writing some sort of address down in a decades old File O Fax. Jack watched from over her shoulder, settling his arms around her waist.

"Hi there," Jackie laughed.

Jackie tilted her head back on his shoulder; he smiled and kissed her forehead.

"That was very PG, Jack Kennedy, compared to this morning."

"Yeah, well," he looked down at his shoes, "I'm standing in a puddle of Legos and you're making lasagna."

Jackie swiveled on her heels, so that they were facing. She smoothed his hair back, "Are you offering to make the lasagna?"

"Um, no." Jack paused and leaned forward, kissing her just below her ear. "But I could clean up the Legos," he murmured against her skin.

"Yeah?" she breathed, tangling her fingers in his hair.

"Well, probably not."

"Douche," she shoved his shoulder and whirled around.

He was just about to tease her on her vocabulary again, but Jackie turned back, green eyes wide. "Holy crap, you didn't see the driveway, did you?"

"No," Jack said cautiously. "I parked on the street."

"I swear, it's some kind of hoax, but I kind of flipped shit after you left. There's a silver BMW parked next to the Accord. A BMW. I feel like James Bond is coming over for dinner. It makes my eyes water a little, not gonna lie."

Jack's mouth was suddenly dry.

"Oh, and this was taped to the front door." Jackie outstretched her hand and shook her head in disbelief.

She dropped his keys in his palm. A tiny tube of pink paper was wrapped around the silver latch. Jack slipped it out, heart thundering, and read the elegant, mechanical script:

It's Time To Come Home.