But she was on a diet—figuratively—and needed to stay the hell away from temptations like that.
After a few more rousing rounds of hide-and-seek, Maxwell and the boys trotted their way, sweat glistening on Maxwell’s forehead.
“I’m surprised to see you sweat,” Jill said, flipping her hair over a shoulder. “Thought an NFL man like you might need a little more of a workout than that to break a sweat.”
His brows shot up, head cocking to the side as laughter slipped out of him. “Oh? Us NFL men aren’t allowed to sweat?”
She tried to bite back her smile, squinting up at him against the sun. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, I guess.”
Ouch. She hated how those words sounded, even though she’d meant them lightly—and had been totally joking. Stormy memories swirled inside her, and she fought to ignore them.
“Well, just so you know—this isn’t sweat,” Maxwell clarified, scooping up Cameron as he attempted to run back toward the slides. “This is just my cooling mechanism.”
“Mm-hmm.” She smirked, unnerved but delighted by how easy it was to be playful with him. Maxwell hoisted Cameron onto his shoulders, who shrieked with laughter as Maxwell hopped around. Kevin demanded the same treatment next, followed by Shelley. Just as Jill was about to request her own turn, Maxwell heaved a sigh.
“Okay, kids. Unka Mack needs a break.” He collapsed onto the bench at the far end, setting the three kids up on the bench between them one by one. He draped his arm along the back of the bench, his fingertips briefly brushing the sheer sleeve of her shirt. “So you seem to be the child whisperer. Do you have kids of your own?”
She laughed, though it didn’t prevent the stormy thoughts from returning. “No.” She paused, wondering if she should add more, but how could she encapsulate what she’d run from when she first left Savannah?
I’d been at the point of starting my dream family when I found out my ex-husband had not one but three girlfriends behind my back.
No, it was better to leave that sorry history in the past. She was coming up on one year since the divorce had been finalized. It was time to start acting like it didn’t still rule her life.
“I’ve just been working with them for years,” she clarified. “I know a few tricks. Especially since when I see them, it’s in the dentist’s chair.”
He nodded slowly, an appreciative look sweeping over his face before he snapped his fingers. “Ah. So you’re the dentist. I do remember hearing about you. You’re the one who lived overseas fixing kids’ smiles.”
“That was me,” she said, shooting him a grin. “But now I’m moving my practice back to Savannah. Where it belongs.”
“That’s great. For all the crooked smiles of Savannah, and also for me,” Maxwell said. He jerked his chin toward the kids resting between them. “I could use your expertise when it comes to these three.”
“I was hoping I could help out,” she said. “Well, more than help out. I want to be involved. That was part of my reason for moving home, even before the accident happened. Besides, I don’t think any one person can handle all this on their own.”
“I’m finding that out,” Maxwell said, reaching out to steady Kevin as he tried to scoot off the bench ledge. “And I appreciate it.”
Jill wanted to add more, but she wasn’t sure what else to say. When she’d gotten news about Maxwell receiving full custody of the kids, she could understand—she’d spent most of the kids’ lives out of the country—but there was something a little difficult about expressing exactly what she wanted from the situation.
Yes, she wanted to be involved, but she wanted to help with decisions. With raising them. With making sure that Wayne’s history and lineage was instilled in them, that they knew their Black side, even if they might grow up not remembering their parents. These points were far more important to her than anything else. Both she and Wayne had been only children, which meant she’d grown up with him practically like a brother—and nobody else could do that job for his kids except her.
“Hey, who’s feeling hungry?” Maxwell asked, checking his phone. The readout said 5:30 p.m. “We should grab dinner on the way back to my house.”
Jill looked down at the kids, who were fidgeting and bleary-eyed. “Did they have a nap today?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Maxwell said, waving her off. “The nanny said they slept a little.”
The warning signs of tired toddlers were accumulating, especially after this intense playground session. “They might get a little hard to handle,” she said. “Looks like they’re getting tired.”
“It’ll be quick,” he said. “Besides, it’s a place that Carmen and Wayne used to go. It might be nice.”
It was hard to argue with that. She nodded, smoothing down some of Shelley’s curls. “That sounds like a good idea.”
Thirty minutes later, the restaurant outing no longer sounded like a good idea. The table of five they’d received at the popular family diner was smack-dab in the middle of the restaurant. Normally, Jill wouldn’t care about table placement like that. But the toddlers were in a constant state of over-excitement, watching each new face flit by every thirty seconds as hosts led new arrivals to empty tables. What had started out as cute laughter had devolved into a complete refusal to pay attention to anything happening at the table—including eating food or drinking milk.
“Maybe they didn’t get their full nap today,” Maxwell murmured, more to himself than to her, after the fifth unwarranted shriek out of Kevin.
Jill couldn’t help but laugh. They’d both been working overtime trying to distract the kids and keep the noise to a minimum. But there was only so much they could do.
“That’s a possibility,” Jill said, stopping Cameron from turning his plate over for the third time. “But also, I think we’re outnumbered.”
“Completely outnumbered,” Maxwell agreed. To Kevin, he said, “Now won’t you please eat your chicken fingers?”
“Here, let’s try this,” Jill blurted, an idea coming to her. She loaded up her fork with a bite-size piece of chicken finger from Shelley’s plate and instead of offering it to Shelley, she made a big deal out of feeding Maxwell. “Look, kids. Auntie Jill is feeding Unka Mack, and nobody can stop me.”
The kids looked fascinated, and as soon as Shelley began loudly demanding her fork and food back, Jill teased her.
“Nope. This is mine, baby. Or should I say Maxwell’s?” She went slo-mo with the fork toward Maxwell’s mouth, and he made sure to keep his mouth open extra wide in anticipation of the food.
Shelley clapped her hands together loudly. “Mine! Mine!”
“Oh.” Jill straightened, sending a mock-confused look toward Maxwell. “Did you hear that? She said it’s hers.”
“Well, if it’s yours, Shelley, why don’t you eat it?” Maxwell asked.
Jill maneuvered the fork back toward Shelley’s mouth, airplane sounds and all, and the toddler ate it up quickly. Jill leaned toward Maxwell and high-fived him over top of Kevin’s head.