Half of Me Page 9

  “Jagster, listen to Miss Joslyn. She’s the Super Nanny, and what she says goes.” Jacob ruffles Jagger’s hair as he passes us on his way to the kitchen. He gives me a beaming smile and a wink. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” breathlessly comes out. I clear my throat and turn back to Jagger. “Did you get your lunch?” I watch him tie his shoes. A proud smile tips my lips when he does it correctly, even giving it a double knot, like I taught him.

  “I forgot.” He sticks out his bottom lip.

  “No biggie. You put your books in your backpack, and I’ll grab your lunch. Deal?” I tap my finger on the tip of his nose.

  “Deal!” He runs into the living room in pursuit of his bag.

  Chuckling at his energy—and how I wish I had just a smidgen of it—I stand and walk into the kitchen. Jacob’s on his cell phone, like most mornings, and sipping coffee as he stares out the kitchen window at the backyard.

  Jenna’s on the island, strapped in her carrier, ready to go. Her bag is packed with enough diapers, wipes, bottles, formula, and changes of clothes—just in case—to last her throughout the day while I’m on shift at the hospital.

  Jacob turns to see me rummaging through the fridge for Jagger’s and my lunch.

  “Landon, I’ll be in the office in twenty. We can discuss this then.” He hangs up.

  I grab our lunches out of the fridge and glance over my shoulder at Jacob. He’s watching me.

  “Do you want anything? Yogurt? Fresh fruit?”

  Sometimes, Jacob eats breakfast, but most of the time, he doesn’t.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  A cute little squeal sounds in the room.

  I set the bags on the counter and lean over Jenna. “What are you doing in here, angel?”

  Jenna’s arms flail, and she coos. In the last few days, she’s started to make noises other than crying, and they send my heart soaring every time.

  “Are you going to be a good girl for Grammy and Papa today? No pooping on them like you did the other day. Any more of that, and I’ll have to revoke some of your formula.”

  I tickle her feet, and she blows bubbles. I laugh and then turn to put the diaper bag over my shoulder. Jacob is standing next to me, watching me, with a soft smile on his lips.

  “What?” My cheeks start to heat.

  Jacob hands me a Yeti mug, containing coffee that is heavily doctored so I can choke it down. I don’t really care for the stuff, but in my line of work and with graduate school, it’s pretty much a survival tactic, and I’ve learned to appreciate its magical abilities.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “You’re so good with her”—he flicks his chin toward Jenna—“and Jagger.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from my face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve made everything smoother, better.”

  Before I can answer, Jagger comes flouncing into the kitchen. “Joslyn, hurry! We’ll be late.”

  I drag my eyes from Jacob’s to Jagger’s. He’s standing with his hands on his hips.

  I chuckle. “Okay, buddy. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  I toss Jagger his lunch. He catches it and shoves it in his backpack. He zips it up and then pushes his arms through the straps. I secure the cover over Jenna’s carrier, so she doesn’t catch a chill outside. Then, I grab my laptop case and lunch. Jacob dumps the rest of his coffee and places the empty mug in the sink. He shoulders Jenna’s bag and lifts her carrier from the counter.

  We exit the house. Jagger and I walk to my car, and Jacob and Jenna head to his SUV.

  On the weekdays, when I have class or I’m on shift, I take Jagger to preschool. It’s on my way to the hospital or campus. Jacob takes Jenna to her grandparents’ since it’s on his way to his office.

  “See you for dinner?” Jacob calls after he clicks Jenna into her car seat.

  “Yes. I have chicken marinating.” I close the door for Jagger.

  “Have a good day.” Jacob starts to climb into his vehicle.

  My phone beeps, and I pull it out of my pocket to read the reminder.

  “Shoot! Jacob?” I call.

  He swivels in my direction.

  “I forgot I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I’ll be late getting home.” I shove the cell back into my coat.

  “Everything okay?” Jacob’s brows furrow.

  “Yeah. I had to reschedule my last post-op checkup, so this is it. Shouldn’t take too long, but I won’t be able to pick up Jagger.” I lean against my car.

  “Not a problem. I’ll get him. Good luck.” Jacob studies me for a long second before we each climb into our vehicle and head out to start our day.

  “You were up and out early this morning,” Maya says when she meets me on the floor of the NICU. “In a hurry to rub on or get bitten by Jake’s love snake?”

  I roll my eyes and finish administering a newborn’s medication. “For the last time, enough about Jake’s supposed snake. It’s getting old.”

  “There’s no supposed about it, girl. I’ve checked out the bulge in his pants, and that man’s packing.” She wiggles her dark brows at me and enters the baby’s medication into the computer. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s an anaconda.”

  I can’t help myself. I laugh. Then, I smack her shoulder. “You’re horrible.”

  “Horribly right. And Anaconda Boy might be old, but as I’ve said, older men know what they want and how to give it to you like no one else.” She grabs me by the arms, and her expression softens. “I know you think starting something with Jake is wrong, Jos, but you accepted this nanny job for a reason. Those kids are adorbs, but you did it for more than them, and you know it. Now, you have to figure out that reason and what you’re going to do about it.”

  Maya knowingly watches me before she skirts around me and checks on an infant who started crying.

  As I change and feed the little boy I was helping when Maya interrupted, I think long and hard about what she said.

  She’s right. I did blindly take the nanny job to be closer to Jacob. What I don’t know is what I’m going to do with him now that he’s so accessible.

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  MISS MISFIT

  My butt is numb as I wait in the hard chair with the unnatural air sweeping around me, the atmosphere artificially peaceful.

  Doctor offices are always like this. Calm and drab colors, flowers too bright to be real, ugly and muted artwork, and too many magazines on how to make yourself better in every way.

  Like I don’t already know my body sucks, but thank you very much for the reminder.

  A door cracks open, and, “Joslyn Stone,” echoes in the waiting room.

  Finally.

  After my weight and vitals are taken, the pretty assistant in purple scrubs leads me to an exam room. She asks me twenty questions before she leaves.

  Squirming on the table in my itchy light-blue patient gown, I try not to think about how so many of my bad memories are associated with cold rooms like this. I hate the smell. I hate the feel. Most of all, I hate the fact that all of it is attached to the diagnosis I was given and the outcome I will forever suffer from. In a room exactly like this, my life changed, and all my hope for the future died.

  My feet swing back and forth, and I pick at my nails as I wait for Doctor Payne—no joke—to enter the room. Suddenly, a swooshing sound, like a galloping horse, comes from the room next to mine, and it takes me only a fraction of a second to recognize the familiar noise. Moisture instantly springs into my eyes, my breath hitches, and something is rapidly crushing my ribs. The reverberation of the noise grows louder, swirling around the other patient’s exam room and seeping into mine, into my chest, into my broken heart, and then it trickles out of my body through my tears.

  The patient on the other side of this thin wall is obviously having an ultrasound, and her baby’s heartbeat is racing a million miles per minute, exclaiming to the world—to me—that it’s healthy and its mother’s bo
dy isn’t defective.

  Soundlessly weeping, I sit in my room of pain, listening to the joyful expressions of the soon-to-be parents. What brings them delight stains my soul with anguish.

  I’ll never get to personally experience the happiness and hope of that moment, the feeling of excitement, fear, and wonder. A few months ago, my future was rewritten to be cold and lonely, and it will isolate me from most women on this earth.

  I’m a malfunctioned part, cast to the side, never to be chosen.

  I’m a misfit.

  My new life will now be conducted from the sidelines of womanhood. I’ll be forced to watch the bright, shiny, and functioning women bask in the glow of their working ovaries and uteruses. I haven’t experienced it firsthand, but I’ve read that, over time, women will start to walk on eggshells around me. They’ll watch me with sympathy and pity in their eyes, thanking their lucky stars that this didn’t happen to them. And, as much as my situation hurts me, I’ll be thankful it wasn’t them either because no one should have to suffer this kind of deep-in-your-bones agony and isolation. Facing a future without children is dark, dreary, and, honestly, scary.

  What in the hell am I supposed to do with myself now?

  Sometimes, the true viciousness of a situation is hidden in the details, the little slivers that prick at a person’s soul, and only someone who is in the same situation can ever really understand.

  The door swings open, and a smiling Doctor Payne enters. She stops dead in her tracks, and her face drops when she sees me choking on my tears. “Miss Stone, what’s wrong?”

  The baby’s heartbeat grows increasingly louder at that moment, and I have to cover my mouth to prevent a sob from escaping.

  Her eyes become twice their regular size. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

  Moving quickly, she rummages through a drawer, pulls out a second gown to drape over my shoulders, and leads me across the hall to another room where I won’t be haunted by what will never be.

  What Doctor Payne doesn’t understand is that this ghost will torment me from the inside and the outside, for the rest of my life.

  “I thought I’d get dinner started,” Jacob says when I walk into his kitchen.

  The delicious scent of garlic wafts in the air. He’s at the stove, stirring something in a skillet. A bottle of wine is on the counter, and music is softly playing through the sound system.

  “How’d your doctor’s visit go?” Jacob asks.

  I immediately start bawling, and my legs wobble. Strong arms encircle me before I slither to the floor.

  “Joslyn? Are you okay?” He leads me out of the kitchen and to the couch, placing me on it with care. Crouching in front of me, he lifts my chin, so I’ll look at him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  His blue eyes are full of so much concern that it makes me cry harder.

  “Shit.” Enveloping me in a hug, he lets me cry against his shoulder.

  It feels remarkable to be wrapped in a man’s reassuring embrace and to let my guard down. To allow someone else to help me carry the load of what I’ve been through over the last couple of months even if the comfort only lasts for a few minutes. It’s not like me to seek support, but even the strong-minded get tired.

  When the waterworks and hiccups begin to wane, Jacob releases me and tilts me back into the cushions. “Will you be okay for a second?”

  I sniffle and nod.

  He gives me a sad smile before standing and disappearing into the kitchen. I hear him tap a utensil against the pan, a glass clinks against the granite, a cork is pulled from a bottle with a thunk, and then there’s glugging. When Jacob walks back into the living room, he has a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and two glasses filled almost to the top.

  He offers me a goblet. I take it without hesitation and gulp a third of it down. I take a few deep breaths and gulp the rest. Without a word, Jacob refills it. We drink in silence for a while. I take my time with the second round, and when I’m halfway through it, I’m ready to talk.

  “A couple in the room next to me was having an ultrasound. I could hear the baby’s heartbeat.” Moisture seeps down my cheeks. I release one humorless laugh. “All I could imagine was the excitement they must have been feeling and how I’d never get to experience it.” The last two words come out broken.

  Jacob scoots closer and pulls me into his chest. I whimper against him, grasping the stem of my wineglass to prevent myself from clutching on to him.

  “Talk to me, Joslyn. I feel like you haven’t told me everything that’s happened to you,” he murmurs.

  I take a deep breath and release it quickly. Before I can talk myself out of it, I expel more details about my disease and how it ended in a hysterectomy and an inability to bear children. I cringe, waiting for him to push me away in disgust, but he pulls me closer and murmurs how sorry he is into my hair. This wonderful, caring man consoles me in a way I’ve needed to be reassured since this tragedy happened to me. And for once, his reaction gives me hope that maybe I won’t have to spend the rest of my life alone. That maybe there’s a man out there that will look past my faults and love me for me.

  Long after I’m done crying—again—Jacob and I are still on the couch together, his grip still firmly wrapped around me. The heat from his thigh, chest, his arms soaks into my veins in the most delicious way. It’s wrong on so many levels, but everything inside me aches, so I allow myself the solace and pleasure. I promise myself that I’ll be strong and pull away from him soon.

  I’m not sure how much time passes before he shifts and digs into his pocket to retrieve his vibrating phone.

  Eloise flashes across the screen, and I extract myself from his hold.

  “Ancroft.”

  He always sounds so stiff and pissed off when he answers his phone. I would hate to be the person on the other end.

  “Yes, hello.” Jacob sets his wine glass on the side table, squeezes my knee before he stands, and then saunters into the kitchen. “I can’t make it tonight. Something’s come up. Can we reschedule?”

  There’s silence, and then I hear Jacob murmuring, but it’s too low for me to understand.

  Feeling guilty for being nosy, I grab the TV remote and click on some reality show. I set the volume low but loud enough so that I can no longer hear his conversation. I’m staring at the flashing screen without seeing anything when Jacob enters the room again.

  “Sorry about that,” he says.

  “No worries.” I put my glass down and pull my knees to my chest. “You don’t need to cancel your plans. I just…I needed a good cry to pull myself together.” I give him a weak smile. “I’m fine. I can still watch the kids tonight, so go out, and have some fun for the both of us.”

  Since I’ve been the Ancrofts’ nanny, Jacob’s been nothing but professional toward me. He’s been caring but not cold, and he doesn’t push the romance factor between us anymore because I’m now one of his employees. He has a strict rule about not sleeping with the staff.

  As much as I wasn’t ready for a relationship—especially with a past patient’s parent—I’m disappointed that he’s not chasing me anymore.

  I’ve been dealing with my medical situation the best I can, but I recognize that I’ve slipped into a mild depression. I ignore the reality that I’ll never be able to have biological children, that my boyfriend of three years dumped me over that fact, and that I’m facing a future of many uncertainties. My way of dealing with the situation lying in front of me is to ignore it. I’ve gone numb, and I try not to feel anything.

  “I don’t want to leave you when you’re upset,” Jacob says.

  “I’m not upset.”

  I take a drink of my wine to coat my dry throat. Jacob scowls at me.

  “All right, I’m still a little upset, but I promise, I’ll be okay.” I lift my half-filled glass of wine. “And, after I finish this glass, I’ll be more than fine.”

  Jacob’s lips twitch. “I still don’t feel comfortable—”

  “Jacob, you need to
get out and start carrying on with your life. You’re an awesome father, you run this house like clockwork, you own and operate a very successful construction company, and you watch over everyone around you. But who takes care of you?” I tip my head in his direction.

  We watch each other for several long seconds.

  When he doesn’t say anything, I walk into the kitchen. Before I enter, I toss over my shoulder, “Go take care of you, Jacob, and I’ll take care of your kids.”

  I open the oven to check on the chicken that I started marinating this morning. The timer on the stove tells me it’ll be done in ten minutes. Glancing in the skillet Jacob was stirring, I see he was roasting potatoes with what smells like lemon, oregano, and garlic.

  “What about you?” Jacob breathes into my ear.

  A small gasp rushes past my lips at his nearness, and the spoon I picked up clatters onto the stovetop.

  He grabs my biceps from behind me to steady me. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Shaking my head, I chuckle at my overreaction before I turn the burner back on.

  “When are you going to start your life?” He releases his grip on me and takes a step around me to rest his hip against the counter next to the stove.

  “What do you mean?” When the potatoes start to sizzle, I stir them. Their hearty aroma has my mouth instantly watering.

  “You said that I needed to start taking care of myself, and the same is true for you. When are you going to put yourself first for a change?”

  “I put myself first every day I continue to chase my dream of being a NICU nurse.” I shrug. “I don’t need anything more than that right now.” At least I won’t let myself want anything more than that.

  Once upon a time, I chased after too many dreams at the same time, and I almost lost everything.

  “That’s not good enough.” He shakes his head. “That’s your career, and it’s a display of your character—how much you stay focused on it—but you need to let loose, Joslyn. You’re only twenty-three years old. Go out, and have fun. Celebrate your youth. Before you know it, you’ll be strapped down in your profession, life will set in, and you won’t make time to play.” He shuts off the timer when it beeps. “And playing is important, no matter the type.”