Chapter 8 - Jack

I’m in the kitchen with a towel slung over my shoulder, standing over the stove, and I can hear Sonya moving around the house like she’s trying to burn off whatever awkwardness just hit us. I could have made a joke about her catching me in the shower, maybe something to break the tension, but I didn’t. It’s weird—with anyone else, I’d have played it up, tossed out a comment just to see them squirm. So why is it so different with her?

I keep busy by rummaging through the fridge, pulling out ingredients for dinner. Cooking might not be my strong suit, but it beats standing here with nothing to do except think about how Sonya’s eyes widened when she saw me. There’s a strange, buzzing energy between us, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the way she bolted from the bathroom or the way I can’t seem to stop picturing the stunned look on her face.

She eventually reappears in the kitchen, trying too hard to look casual, like the last thirty minutes didn’t just happen. She’s pretending to sort through a box of her stuff, focused on unpacking like it’s the most important task in the world. I glance over at her, and there’s this fleeting moment where our eyes meet, but she quickly looks away.

“Fiona’s still asleep,” she comments. Her voice is a little too bright, like she’s trying to fill the silence. “I thought I’d get some unpacking done.”

I nod, flipping through the contents of the fridge. “Cool. Maybe we’ll get to eat in peace tonight. What a nice change of pace that would be, huh?”

I get to work, pulling out some chicken and vegetables, while Sonya continues unpacking, though she’s stealing glances my way like she’s expecting me to set the kitchen on fire. I start chopping, the rhythmic thunk of the knife against the cutting board filling the room. It’s oddly comforting, the normalcy of it, and I focus on the task at hand, grateful for the distraction.

Sonya finally settles onto a stool at the counter, watching me like she’s waiting for me to chop a finger off. “So, you and Reiner have known each other a long time, huh? You seem pretty close.”

“Since we were kids,” I reply, tossing some chopped peppers into the pan. “We’ve been through a lot together. He’s like a brother, you know? Even when he’s being a pain in my ass.”

Sonya laughs softly, and the sound eases the lingering awkwardness between us. “Jane’s always going on about how you two are inseparable. Jane and I are like that, too. It’s nice having that kind of bond.”

“Yeah, it is,” I agree, stirring the pan as the vegetables sizzle. “Reiner’s the steady one. Always has been. He’s the guy who’ll call me out when I’m being an idiot, which is… often. As you might know.” I shoot her a sideways glance, and she grins.

“Sounds familiar. Jane’s like that for me. She’s more like a sister than a friend. She’s always been there, even when I don’t ask for it. Especially when I don’t ask for it.”

I nod, adding some seasoning to the chicken. “I get that. Reiner’s the same way. He’s got this way of making me think about stuff I’d rather ignore.”

“Like Fiona?” Sonya asks gently. There’s no judgment in her voice, just curiosity.

“I have no interest in ignoring Fiona.” I sigh, flipping the chicken over. “I’m still figuring it out. Being a dad, it’s… it’s a lot. But I want to get it right, you know?”

Sonya’s quiet for a moment, then she nods. “I can tell. You’re trying, Jack. That’s more than a lot of people would do in your position.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, surprised by how much her words mean. “That means a lot coming from you.”

She shrugs, but I can see the warmth in her eyes. “You’re not as clueless as you think. And Fiona’s lucky to have you.”

We settle into a comfortable rhythm, and the conversation flows easier than I expected. It’s like we’ve crossed some invisible line, moving from awkward roommates to something more like friends.

When dinner’s finally ready, I set the plates on the table, and Sonya grabs us a couple of glasses of water. We eat in a companionable silence at first, but the conversation soon picks up again, drifting from Fiona, to our pasts, to stories of growing up with Reiner and Jane.

By the time we’re finished, what happened earlier feels like a distant memory. Sonya offers to do the dishes, and I lean back in my chair, watching her. As she stands with her back to me scrubbing at a pan, my eyes wander, tracing the curve of her back, the way her hair falls loose around her shoulders.

It’s strange, this pull I feel toward her. I’ve always been the guy who keeps things light, who doesn’t get too caught up in one person. But with Sonya, it’s different. She’s strong and stubborn, but there’s this softness to her, too. This vulnerability she tries to hide. And it’s driving me crazy.

As she rinses the last dish, I find myself leaning forward, the image of sliding up behind her flashing through my mind. It would be so easy to step up, to press against her and let my hands find their way to her hips. To whisper something in her ear that would make her blush the way she did earlier.

I could kiss her. Right here, right now. I could turn her around, press her back against the counter, and see if those lips are as soft as they look. She would taste sweet, and I would kiss her until her eyes went wide and she gasped. Or I could just bend her over the sink, pull her shorts down, and have her right here in the kitchen.

My mouth is watering at just the thought of burying my face between her thighs. I could take my time, tease her until she was shaking, then slide my cock deep inside her. I know exactly how she would feel, warm and tight, and it would be so good.

Jesus.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s ridiculous, really. She’s not my type. I go for easy, uncomplicated fun—blondes, usually. Flirty, bubbly types who like to laugh at my jokes and don’t care that I can’t remember their last names the next morning.

Sonya is the opposite of all that. She’s blunt and bossy, a constant thorn in my side who tells me exactly what she thinks without sugarcoating a damn thing. And yet, I can’t stop picturing what it would be like to close the distance between us, to press my hands to the curve of her waist and feel the warmth of her skin under my fingertips.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought. She’s off-limits. We’ve got a good thing going here—a shaky partnership that works, mostly because we both know where the boundaries are. But the more time I spend around her, the harder it is to keep those lines clear in my mind.

She’s not even my type, I remind myself again, trying to convince the voice in my head that’s already planning out the next ten moves. Sonya’s too serious, too determined, and yet there’s something undeniably attractive about that fire in her eyes when she’s mad. The way she stands up to me like she’s got nothing to lose.

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to look away before I do something stupid. Sonya’s wiping down the counter now, and I can’t help but notice how the shirt she’s wearing clings to her breasts like a second skin. It’s maddening how much I’m noticing every little detail about her all of a sudden, like my brain’s on a loop I can’t shut off.

Maybe it’s because I’m not used to having someone around like this, someone who challenges me and keeps me on my toes. Or maybe it’s just because she’s right there, within arm’s reach, and all I’d have to do is—

The sound of Fiona’s cry cuts through the air, snapping me back to reality like a cold splash of water. Sonya glances over her shoulder, but I’m already on my feet, grateful for the interruption. “I’ve got her,” I say quickly, heading down the hall before Sonya can even offer to help.

As I step into my room, Fiona’s cries grow louder, and I scoop her up from the crib, cradling her against my chest. Her little face is scrunched up, and her tiny fists flail as she lets out a wail that could probably shatter glass. I bounce her gently, murmuring soft reassurances that feel clumsy and inadequate, but it’s all I’ve got in the moment.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” I whisper, rubbing her back in slow circles the way Sonya showed me. “It’s just me, FiFi. I’m here.”

I can feel the tension in her tiny body ease up a bit, her cries softening into hiccupy breaths as she settles against me. The weight of her in my arms is grounding, and I focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing, letting it calm the wild thoughts still racing in my head.

This is what I should be concentrating on—Fiona. She needs me to be present, to be the dad she can rely on, not some idiot who can’t keep his hormones in check around the nanny. And Sonya… she’s counting on me, too, in her own way. She’s made it clear that she’s here for Fiona, that she’s got no room for distractions or drama, and I need to respect that.

The last thing I need is to complicate things by crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. It’s not just about me; it’s about Fiona, and it’s about Sonya having a place where she feels safe and comfortable. I can’t risk messing that up just because I’m feeling… whatever it is I’m feeling right now.

“Okay, FiFi, we’re good,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Fiona coos softly, and her little fingers grasp at my shirt as she snuggles closer. I let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension drain away as I hold her. This right here—this is what matters. Not the weird tension with Sonya, not the confusion swirling in my head. Just Fiona, just being the dad she needs me to be.

I sink into the chair by the window, rocking gently as Fiona’s breathing evens out, her tiny body finally relaxing against me. I close my eyes, letting the quiet moments stretch out, grateful for the chance to reset. I can’t afford to get caught up in some fantasy that’s got no place in our reality. Sonya’s here because I need her help, because Fiona needs her, and that’s all it can be.

I replay the past few days in my mind, trying to pinpoint when things started to shift. Sonya’s been with us for ten days now, but it already feels like she’s woven herself into the fabric of this house like she’s always been a part of it. And maybe that’s what’s throwing me off—how easily she’s slipped into our lives, filling in the gaps I didn’t even realize were there.

Fiona stirs, her little hand clinging to the fabric of my shirt, and I hold her a little tighter, savoring the warmth of her against my chest. Sonya’s presence has brought a stability I didn’t know I needed, a sense of normalcy that’s hard to come by in the chaos of trying to figure out fatherhood on the fly.

And yet, for all the ways she’s made things better, there’s still that undercurrent of tension, the unspoken what-ifs that keep surfacing no matter how hard I try to push them down. It’s a line I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about crossing, but the thought lingers like a persistent itch I can’t reach to scratch.

I can’t let it get to me. I’ve got to keep things professional, keep my focus on Fiona and not on the way Sonya’s presence makes the house feel a little less empty. Because if I start letting my guard down, if I let myself slip, it’s not just my own mess I’m risking. It’s Fiona’s stability, Sonya’s peace of mind, the whole precarious balance we’ve managed to set up.

Fiona’s breathing is soft and steady now, and her eyelids flutter as she drifts back to sleep. I adjust her in my arms, careful not to wake her, and lean back in the chair, letting the quiet settle over us. This is where I need to be—right here, in this moment, doing right by Fiona.

And whatever’s happening with Sonya, whatever’s simmering under the surface, I’ll just have to find a way to deal with it. Because right now, I’ve got more important things to focus on, and I can’t afford to let my mind wander down paths that lead nowhere good.

I glance toward the door, half-expecting to see Sonya standing there, but it’s just me and Fiona, wrapped in the stillness of the evening. I let out a slow breath, trying to steady the thoughts still spinning in my head.

She’s not my type, I remind myself again, though the mantra sounds weaker each time I repeat it. She’s not my type, and I can’t afford to complicate things. Not now, not ever.