***
I slept in the next morning. Even after the confrontation with Owen, my time with Jake had lifted some of the thickness that had hung around since he’d left. Just his presence seemed to make things lighter. It was funny to think that someone so emotionally heavy on my heart could actually make things lighter.
Georgia must have slept in, too, because it was already seven–thirty, and she hadn’t come into my room to ask for her usual Saturday morning pancakes. When I went to wake up the sleepy head, she wasn’t in her bed. I started to panic but when I got to the kitchen there was a fresh pot of coffee on the counter and a sticky note on the pot written in adult handwriting in crayon: We’re out back. With a smiley face drawn under it.
Tess had a key to the house. Maybe, she came over before her shift.
I’d called Bethany the night before to let her know that if she wanted a shot at knowing Georgia she’d better keep Owen on a leash. He hadn’t bothered me in years, and I expected her to help keep it that way.
I left out the part about putting a gun to his head.
She told me she would handle it. That’s all I needed to know.
I’d poured my coffee and almost choked on the first sip when I saw what was happening outside my window. Jake was sitting on the seawall with my daughter, laughing and helping her bait her hook on a little pink fishing pole. He was still wearing his signature black, but was dressed down in a wife-beater and black board shorts that stopped right below his knees. There was a tattoo I had never seen before peeking out from the underside of his bicep. He was too far away for me to make out the design. His blonde hair was pulled back in a small bun at the nape of his neck. He was even wearing black flip flops instead of his usual boots.
I was going to need a lot more coffee.
Jake spotted me first. Then, Georgia followed his gaze. “Mama, Mama!” She put her little pink pole on the ground and ran to me. Jake stood and walked behind her. “Da—I mean Jake, made me pancakes and showed me how to catch blue crab off the seawall. He’s taking us fishing today!” She jumped in the air and clapped. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have sworn she was hopped up on caffeine.
Jake approached us cautiously. “Georgia, what did I tell you has to happen first?” he asked her.
She looked down at her feet. “Mama has to say yes.”
“That’s right: Mama has to say yes.” He winked at me then dropped his gaze to where my tank top clung to my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He looked again to the tattoos down my arm, and his smile turned into a smirk. “So Mama?” he asked. “What’ll it be? You down for some fishing?”
I knew what he was doing. I couldn’t say no to Georgia, especially when he’d already gotten her hopes up. “I don’t know,” I teased Georgia as she looked up at me, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. “I suppose we can go.” She jumped and squealed. “But first, I need to know something.” She held her breath. “Are there any pancakes left?”
“Mama, we made you some!” she exclaimed. She grabbed my hand and dragged me back into the house. How had I slept through the noise of them making pancakes in a kitchen that shared a wall with my bedroom?
After she showed me where the plate that they had made for me was, she ran back outside with Jake. I didn’t know if I was ready to spend time with him and my daughter together, and I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing. But, I would’ve hated to see the look of disappointment on my little girl’s face, so I went along with it.
And the pancakes were so damn good.
***
By the time I’d finished eating and put a swimsuit on under my shorts and tank top, Georgia and Jake were waiting for me in a blue boat tied to the seawall. “Hurry, Mama! Jake is gonna take us to catch big fishies.”
I had drunk two cups of coffee by then and was fully awake. I saw now that my daughter was decked out head-to-toe in pink fishing gear. She was wearing a pink visor that said “Fisher Girl.” Her shirt looked like a miniature version of the collared shirts worn by fishing guides. And though I’d braided her hair the night before, it was now in a bun at the base of her neck...in the same style as Jake’s hair.
I gave him the evil eye and he just shrugged. “I went to pick up some stuff and they had the cutest shit for little girls.” He quickly realized his error. “I mean stuff.”
“Mama says shit all the time,” Georgia said.
“Thanks, baby.” My three year old had just thrown me under the bus, and Jake couldn’t have looked more amused by it. “I like your bun,” I told her as Jake offered me his hand and helped me into the boat.
“Daddy did it for me.”
My stomach dropped.
Jake stepped up to her and whispered in her ear. She smiled even brighter and corrected herself. “I mean, Jake did it for me.”