Page 43 of The Quit List
“Turns out I was closer to you than I expected.”
“Ahem!”
A sudden throat clearing reminds me that Dylan Hanlin is still here. In the room with us.
Well, this is a first. I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten his presence before.
“I’m Dylan,” he says coolly, stepping forward to shake Jax’s hand. “And you are?”
“The perfect man,” Jax replies with a wink in my direction that makes me roll my eyes again, even as my cheeks get a bit warm. He steps forward to take Dylan’s hand. “I’m kidding. I keep telling Holly that he doesn’t exist and she won’t believe me. But no, the name’s Jax. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” I wonder if I’m imagining the cool note in Dylan’s voice, the way his eyes glide over Jax’s broad shoulders and torso—much broader than his own, lean-on-the-side-of-skinny frame. “Nice of you to stop by for your friend, Holly.”
Jax crosses his arms over his chest, and the look he gives Dylan makes me think that he noticed my boss’s cool demeanor, too. “Yup.”
The two men continue to stare at each other. I continue to gape like some totally bewildered goldfish. There’s some sort of tension, pressure or something, building up in the room. I can’t totally understand it.
In the end, I step forward, right in between them.
“Okay!” I clap my hands like I’m shooing chickens or something. Pigs, maybe. Trevor the pig farmer would be proud. “Well, Jax, shall we head out? You have some amends to make via baby gift.”
Jax’s eyes are on mine again and he smiles, and the tension seems to dissipate a little. “My lifesaver. See you around, man.”
“Maybe you will.”
Jax turns and I practically push him out the door, not daring to look back at Dylan.
An hour later, Jax and I have visited no less than four baby stores, and he has only become more perplexed as we looked at countless onesies, stuffed animals, and swaddling clothes. Not to mention the hundreds of cribs, and car seats, and strollers.
He’s bought a couple of gorgeous board books—a wilderness ABC’s book and Guess How Much I Love You—along with a cute onesie covered in whisks and spatulas (because his sister loves to bake), and inexplicably, he’s also purchased a stuffed cougar. And yet, he keeps insisting that nothing is right.
I’m genuinely impressed by his commitment to the task at hand. And mildly concerned for his sanity.
“What about one of these?” I call to him from a selection of high-end activity gyms, one of which has the prettiest woodland animal theme I’ve ever seen.
“I like it.” He picks up the cloth structure and checks the price. “Two hundred and thirty dollars?! I mean, I want to find the perfect gift and money isn’t an object, but… sheesh.”
I laugh. “It’s a known rule—the price always skyrockets when the word ‘baby’ or ‘wedding’ is attached to an item.”
“Good thing I’m not having a baby or getting married anytime soon or I’d be bankrupt.” He snorts, but it’s good-natured. I can’t help but think that if he ever does decide he wants a serious relationship, he’d probably make good husband material for the woman who manages to change his mind.
He clearly cares about his sister and her unborn child. Cares in a way that’s soft and sweet for such a rugged man.
The Wolf Man has a gooey center in there somewhere.
I watch as Jax wanders into the next aisle, picks up a box, realizes it’s a breast pump, and hurriedly puts the box back on the shelf. He catches me watching him over the top of an arrangement of stuffed elephants and shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe not an ideal gift for a brother to give his sister?”
“Probably not.”
He proceeds to glance over a selection of nipple creams, nursing pads, and breast milk bags. “I had no idea that having a baby required so much… stuff. My head’s spinning with everything I’ve learned this afternoon.”
“We’re just getting started, Grainger.”
He lets out a low whistle as he wanders further down the next aisle. I’m still watching his broad, muscular back, a smile on my lips, when a nasal voice suddenly fills the air around me.
“Oh, my goodness. If it isn’t Holly Greene!”
I spin around to see The Ghost of Mean Girls Past rushing my way, arms outstretched like she’s going to sink her claws into me.