Jack Who? (Book 1 Draft Version)

PART TWO~CHAPTER : 22

♪♫••═════ PART TWO~CHAPTER : 22  ═════••♬ ♭

 “Bad word Momma,” My four-year old conscious piped in, but I barely heard and didn't even acknowledge.

Confusion clouded Jack's features before his face cleared and he shrugged undisturbed. “Oh anytime something is going on, Jerry is always out in that damn tree.”

Tristan's eyes popped out in perfect animation of my internal emotions, and yet our departure on the drop party night suddenly made sense.

Jack had captured my hand as if all were blissful between us despite the fact that I had just hit him, and despite being blindsided by our son with news of my booty calls. He had known we would be photographed.

Dishing up the first two hot pancakes, I eyed Jack as he averted his gaze and fished flatware from a drawer. Setting the plate and syrup in front of Tristan, I decided to probe into the troubles that had me tossing and turning all night.

“Why did you change the channel? I wanted to see.”

“No you didn't.”

The next puddle of batter sizzled in the pan, and I looked up abandoning all thoughts of faking a casual interrogation. “Why?” This time my question was genuinely curious. Last nights broadcast haunted my memories, specifically the picture of Jack and Randi.

“Why Daddy? Mom was pretty on t.v.”

Was. Although at the moment I was wearing a cute summer outfit from one of Olivia's mandatory mix and match sessions, my only primping today had been to pull the straightener through the uncombed wet hair I went to bed in.

“Yes she always is. Beautiful.” Jack's eyes held mine, and I melted in the dark glimmers. Then he said, “Can we talk about this later?” “Right now, we need to talk about today. Tristan, buddy, your physical therapist will be here at two--”

“Miss Dana is coming to California?”

We both did a double take at the correct pronunciation of the state. While Jack quickly explained that a new PT was going to be coming, I dished up two more pancakes and poured two more into the skillet. If Tristan continued his progress rate, a PT would only be necessary for a couple of more weeks.

Mariss, I've got a couple of meetings. Emma will be here any second, and--”

“Already here.” Emma sang as she glided into the room waving.

Feeling suddenly territorial of the house, I concentrated on my cooking. Was Emma also privileged enough to let herself in at leisure, in the same manner as Randi?

“I guess I'm running late,” Jack drawled.

“You always are,” his publicist retorted with an uncharacteristic sunny smile,.

Unprovoked, Jack picked up a pancake rolling it into finger food the same way I had the day before. “Chill pill, Emmagesty.” Dipping his breakfast into the generous puddle of syrup spilling off Tristan's stack, he sent a meaningful glance over the island to me. “We will talk later. About everything. Okay?”

“You may as well tell her now, Jack.”

Jack glared at his publicist and sent a reassuring look to me before pivoting away. His long legs carried him quickly across the kitchen. “I've got to get dressed.”

Emma watched him ascend the stairs, then began to help herself to the single serving coffee maker. While the coffee was brewing, she cast a manicured finger toward the pancakes. “Do you mind if I have one of those?”