Page 81 of The Dating Charade

“And yet,” he whispered back, “not thoughtful enough. You deserve to be with the one who would never try to deceive you . . .” He paused before whispering the word momentously. “Sunny.”

Frankly, he had no idea if Sunny was attracted to Sarah.

Frankly, he didn’t care.

Before Sarah’s affections could bounce back into his court he squeezed around her and opened the door. He held both hands up to her. “Please, don’t follow me. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is.”

She bit her lip. Then nodded as though accepting his valiant offer to sacrifice his life for hers.

“Thank you,” he said, and flew out of the apartment as fast as he could.

* * *

Two hours into his shift, he was still vowing never to communicate with a woman ever, ever again.

“There we go, Donna Gene. Good as new.” With Sunny at home either frying in Sarah’s frying pan or melting in her crocheting arms, Jett tossed the tablet to the new guy and helped Donna to her recliner. As he did so, realization caught his eye. “Say. This place is looking pretty sharp.”

Nick, the most recent member of the station, looked up from typing the medical details and glanced around the room as if he was not seeing the same thing Jett was.

The living room was still overcrowded with furniture. The house still smelled of old fried chicken. Several new cats lined the windowsill, rapping it with their tails.

But the number of soda cans on the table was down from pyramid-worthy piles to three. There were actually streaks in the carpet, as though it had been recently vacuumed. The sun shone nicely through their window.

Donna beamed. “I was wondering when you’d notice. Your sweetheart’s girls have been coming up every couple of weeks, helping us spruce up the place.” She lifted her gaze meaningfully. “You know, I haven’t heard you talk about her in some time.”

Some time. More like forty-four days, not that he was counting.

“Well, that’s probably because I never spoke about her, Donna Gene.”

“The girls tell me they are throwing a nice event for the seniors on Valentine’s Day.” Donna crossed her hands across her lap. “Will you be saving me a dance?”

His smile widened as he shook his head, just imagining the woman who couldn’t even pick herself up off the kitchen floor doing the Charleston. “Wish I could, but I believe I’ll be working that day.”

“Oh, just give us a little hint.” Edie clasped her arthritic fingers together, her posture straight as a board on the couch. “Tell us you two’s status, and we won’t bother you anymore.”

Jett smiled politely, but felt it fading despite himself as he opened the door. “Sorry, ladies. In the end, we realized we just didn’t see eye to eye. Wish I had better news.”

The women frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Donna Gene said.

“And after all that hemming,” Edie added mournfully.

Quietly he moved to the Medic 2–10 and turned on the ignition.

Forty-four days had passed since that terrible night when his hopes with Cassie were shattered and his future with the kids was made more or less certain. Something about defending his niece and nephews before Cassie’s callous judgments, something about being forced to defend them when his sister wanted to take them back into a hazardous home, threw down the last shreds of his resistance and put him completely on board. Parenthood? He’d bought the ticket. Set sail.

He’d thought about calling Cassie that first week, when his nerves settled. Then after New Year’s, when the holiday havoc had simmered down. But every time, he heard the tone in her voice when she’d so vehemently made her opinions on small children clear. Every time he lifted the phone he felt the guilt creep in, asking him why he would start a relationship with someone who wouldn’t love his kids as much as they deserved. It was about them first, now.

That was when he knew, he guessed. He was really a parent.

* * *

“Bentley. You got a second?” Captain Ferraro pulled up beside him two days later, lunch plate in hand.

Up to his elbows in soapy water, Jett swiftly rinsed a sudsy cup and laid it in the drying rack. “Got nothing but time right now, sir. What’s up?”

He took the captain’s plate and dunked it in the sink half full of water. Captain Ferraro dropped his crumpled napkin in the trash can.