20. Jasmine

Chapter twenty

Jasmine

A lex is curled up on the sofa, leaning against me as we watch TV. I've zoned out to the fighting robots, entertaining myself by watching the birds outside the window. My fingers twiddling through his curls are all the attention he needs from me. After exploring, and building a cushion fort, I've had more fun than I could ever imagine playing with him. Now, I imagine my whole life where playing with him is my only concern.

The clicking of the security alarm is the first clue that Zane is home, followed by the crunching of the gravel drive as his car pulls up. Alex jumps up and runs to the door. I follow, keen to present a good impression of my child-minding when he returns. A second car parks beside Zane and a younger version of the man, who I'll assume is Marcus, steps out.

"Daddy!" Alex opens the front door, running across the stones barefoot to greet his father. "You've got to meet Jasmine. She is great."

"Alright, give me a minute." Marcus waves his hand in my direction, his son clamps around his middle in some bear hug body embrace. Watching him walk with the boy still attached is too comical not to laugh.

"Did you two have fun?" Zane walks towards me as though he is wearing the weight of the world.

"Oh my goodness, he is too adorable for words." I never wanted a child of my own until now.

Zane and Marcus remove their shoes and coats on the porch, which is a challenging activity with a leg hugger, and then we move into the kitchen. Coffee is at the top of the agenda, and we all sit around the breakfast bar while enjoying the delicious liquid beverages. Alex frees his dad and grabs a milkshake from the fridge. While Zane starts the noodles for the sauce he made earlier, and preheats the oven for garlic bread.

"Did you sort out the mess that stole you from your weekend?" I venture cautiously, threading the needle between concern and prying.

With the faintest of milkshake moustaches, Alexei watches his father with curious eyes. The corners of his mouth lift, tracing the line of his upper lip with his tongue. He's keen to know the outcome too.

Zane's eyes raise, meeting mine with a glimmer that hadn't been there moments before. A nod, subtle but sure, came first from him and then echoed by Marcus. It is all the confirmation I need—the issue is resolved, and the weekend sacrifice was not in vain.

"Good," I nod, unable to comment further without the merest hint about their duty. I sense some brownie points earned because I don't push for the facts.

"Today, we explored the house and then made a cushion fort," Alex beams, his voice bubbling with excitement. "And she," he points at me with a grin that can melt hearts, "was the queen of the castle!" His animated retelling is punctuated by grand gestures, arms sweeping through the air as if to conjure the very walls of our imaginary stronghold.

Zane and Marcus watch with amusement as the stress lines around Zane's mouth soften into a smile that matches his son's. My presence has brought joy into the home, an unexpected but welcome pleasure in my life.

"Did you win any battles?" Marcus teases, while bringing the food to the breakfast bar where we are all sitting, an expression of fond memories plastered on his face.

"Every single one!" Alex declares victoriously, chest puffing out with pride. His enthusiasm is infectious; even I can't help but laugh at the memory of our playful skirmishes.

Amid the laughter, Alex's eyes shift from mine to his father's, a mischievous glint appearing.

"Daddy, do you like her?" he asks, tilting his head inquisitively. It isn't just a question but a challenge, a subtle nudge to break the unspoken barrier that adults often erect around their feelings.

"Yes. She is very nice. I approve, Dad." Marcus nods.

"Grampy, you like her too? You love her don't you?"

Zane's face registers a momentary surprise, caught off-guard by his grandson's directness. He glances at me and then back at Alex, searching for the right words.

"Of course, he does," Marcus interjects with a knowing smirk, nudging the conversation. His tone is light, but an undercurrent of support suggests they've both considered this topic before.

Alex holds his breath, waiting for Zane's response. The gentle hum of the refrigerator is the only sound daring to fill the silence. Zane's gaze meets mine, a complex dance of emotions flickering in his eyes before they settle with a quiet resolve. His hand reaches across the table, fingers warm as they wrap around mine, anchoring me to the moment. "Yes," he said, yet the weight of the word seemed to fill the kitchen, displacing the air.

A gasp escapes Alex, his fork clattering against his plate, seemingly forgetting his spaghetti. The boy's face lights up like the break of dawn, an unstoppable smile spreading across his features. "Really? You mean it?" Excitement bubbles over, and he bounces on the balls of his feet, looking at us with an innocence that makes my heart ache. "I'm getting a mum!"

Marcus's chuckle is soft and affectionate but carries a note of correction. "Technically, she'd be your nana, not your mum, kiddo."

The words hang for a beat too long, and I watch Alexei's joy fracture, his brow knits together in confusion. Then, as if the floor had fallen away beneath him, his elation crumbles into disappointment. Without a word, he turns on his heel, the sound of his small footsteps retreating to the living room where the echo of his excitement had once filled the space.

"Alexei, wait—" Marcus begins, but the boy has already gone.

With a sigh, Marcus rises, casting a glance back at us that holds an apology. Then he follows Alex, leaving Zane and me in a suddenly heavy silence with unspoken concerns.

The kitchen feels larger and emptier as the refrigerator's hum fills the void left by Alex's retreat. I can feel Zane's gaze on me, his hand still warm in mine, an anchor in the sudden tempest of emotions.

"Zane," I whisper, breaking the silence with a tentative voice, "If I'm staying for a while, I could help look after Alex... if you'd like."

His eyes search mine, and I see the weight of consideration there. He wants this as much as I do. He needs to let go of the past like I needed to let go of my virginity, although thinking like that makes me question if the two are comparable. There will be no cuffing him to the bedpost to get him over his own haunting memories.

"Would you?" His voice is low, tempered with gratitude. "He's taken quite a shine to you."

I squeeze his hand gently, affirming without words that my offer is sincere. Looking after Alex will be more than just a gesture; it is a promise to stand by them, through the laughter and the tears, whatever shape our relationship might take.

"Of course, I would. He's a remarkable boy, Zane. And he deserves all the happiness we can give him."

Marcus pokes his head around the kitchen doorway, his dark hair ruffled and a reassuring smile on his face. "He'd like to see Jasmine again," he says softly. "I thought we could pop back in the morning and spend a bit of time with you guys tomorrow if you're okay with that?"

I pause for a moment, considering his request before nodding in agreement. "Text your brother and tell him to join us for dinner. I'll have it ready for noon," Zane adds suddenly. I'm startled by how soon he wants to introduce me to his sons, considering the true nature of our relationship, but it shows real promise for something more.

Marcus nods again and disappears into the hallway, no doubt eager to return to his place, so he can get some much-needed rest and bonding time with Alex.

Zane sighs, a twinge of guilt washes over his face as he turns to me. "I'm sorry. I should have asked if that's alright with you."

I know he regrets his impulsive decision to invite his boys to meet me. I'm not here as a lover or partner, but because I am dead if I leave. Zane may consider me free to go, but Andrew Green's associates won't share his view, and we both know it. This is not simply some romantic getaway.

"I know you're only staying for a while, and it would be wrong to get Alex's hopes up, but…" Zane smiles warmly at me with an expression of hope.

"Let's just see where this goes," I reply gently, my hand resting over his. "There's no rush, is there?"

"No," he replies honestly.

We fall into a heavy silence, the only sound being the fading rumble of Marcus' car as it disappears down the long driveway, and the clatter of us cleaning up the dishes from our late dinner.