The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate

Chapter 20

Sophie

When I sayit’s been a week, I mean it’s been a week.

Owen left five days ago and he’s due back tonight. Since he’s been gone, Molly and Ryan have been at it nonstop, the sink in the kitchen started leaking, the housekeeper has been sick, and I’ve been on my period.

To say I’m in need of a break is an understatement.

But I wouldn’t trade this job for the world. I mean, it doesn’t even feel like a job anymore. I love taking care of Molly and Ryan. I love teaching them things. Even when they’re fighting and being typical little kids, they’re still two of my favorite people on Earth.

I also love being with Owen. And I miss him. So, when I hear the front door open and the pitter-patter of feet mixed with squeals of delight, my heart beats a little faster. Smoothing down my hair, I glance down at my shirt to see a ketchup stain from the lunch I served the kids earlier.

I might’ve stolen a French fry.

And that was probably the only thing I’ve had to eat all day.

“Hey,” Owen’s voice catches me off guard and his smile completely disarms me.

“Hey.”

Why do I sound so breathy?

And are my palms sweating?

“Are you okay?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at where the kids are preoccupied with their gifts from his road trip and then back to me. “You look a little flushed.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m fine. It’s just been a day.”

Owen’s expression shifts from concern to understanding. “Sorry about all of that.”

Waving him off, I turn back to the stove where a chicken pasta is baking in the oven. “It’s fine. The plumber just left a few hours ago and we now have running water again. I checked in on Sharon earlier and she said she’s feeling better and should be back on schedule in a couple days. In the meantime, all the laundry is caught up… and dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” I say, checking the timer.

“You need a break.”

When I turn back to face him, I see his brows furrowed and his arms crossed. It kind of reminds me of how he looks when he takes the mound to pitch—all business and not interested in negotiations.

“This is my job,” I remind him and his expression changes again. There’s something warring behind his eyes. Sometimes I wonder if we’re toeing the line as well as we think we are when it comes to our personal and professional lives. Sure, we get along great. He’s been playing amazing. And the kids are happy. But there are moments like right now, when I think Owen—and I—forget our roles.

“Still doesn’t mean you don’t need some time to yourself,” he says, his voice quieter and gentler. “I’m not due back to the clubhouse until tomorrow at two o’clock, so consider yourself off the clock until then.”

I’m taken aback for a moment. In my mind, I had pictured this going differently. We’d all sit down to a nice family dinner and then after the kids are in bed, Owen and I would have some alone time.

But that’s a little too picturesque and sounds a lot more like me playing house.

The dose of reality stings a little, but I welcome the burn. I need it. I need the reminder that I’m only temporarily part of this family and I am still a paid employee.

“Soph,” Owen says, glancing behind him once more to make sure Molly and Ryan are still preoccupied. “All I’m saying is I know you’ve had a stressful week, so get out of the house. Even if you just go to your apartment for the night or whatever, at least take a break.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” The question flies out of my mouth before I can stop it.

Owen’s head jerks back like I slapped him. “What? No, absolutely not.” Leaning in closer, he drops his voice to a low, husky whisper. “If I had my way, we’d both be naked already and I’d be showing you how much I missed you this week.”

His lips brush the side of my cheek as he straightens and it sends shivers up my spine.

“You look hot, by the way,” he adds with a smirk. “That top knot and t-shirt with… what is that, barbeque sauce?”

Fighting back a grin, I shake my head. “It’s ketchup, for your information.”

“Well, it totally works for you. As a matter of fact, this might be my favorite ensemble of yours to date.”

Picking up the kitchen towel closest to me, I wad it up and throw it at him.

Of course, he catches it in mid-air and laughs.

When Molly and Ryan start arguing over the remote control, Owen rolls his eyes and goes to play referee. His offer of some time away from the house is actually sweet, and he’s right, I could use a breather.

Walking into my bedroom, I pick up my phone from the nightstand and quickly text Greer, asking what her plans are for the evening. Then, I grab a sundress from the closet and head to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Thirty minutes later, I exit my room feeling refreshed. Poking my head into the dining room, I quietly watch Owen and the kids from the doorway. There’s no longer any arguing going on and the three of them are laughing as they eat the pasta I made for them.

It’s such a wholesome scene.

One I want to be a part of.

But I’ve been excused for the night and Greer is expecting me to meet her in fifteen minutes.

Clearing my throat, I make my presence known and step further into the room. “I’m off,” I say, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of the front of my dress. This feels weird. I feel stuck somewhere between needing to ask what my curfew is and wanting to tell these three people I’ll miss them while I’m gone.

It’s confusing.

And no longer as black and white as I tried to make it out to be in the beginning.

“Have fun,” Owen says, sounding casual, but his heated gaze is anything but.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Take as much time as you need.” This time, his expression is sincere and earnest and holds more words than he’s allowing himself to say, or is allowed to say in front of his children.

Dipping my head in reply, I bend down and kiss the top of Ryan’s head and then walk around to give Molly a squeeze. “Be good and enjoy your bedtime book.”

We’ve been reading Charlotte’s Web and I have to admit, I’m going to miss tonight’s chapters.

“You’re not going to be here for bedtime?” Molly asks, sounding wounded and making my heart crack open.

Whoa.

Is this what mom guilt feels like?

Because suddenly, I want to cancel all my plans and never leave.

“She’ll be back late, but you’ve got me tonight,” Owen says, reaching over to give her braid a tug. She’s started having me braid her hair like mine. If I come out with a new style, she wants hers done the same way. It’s adorable and I love it.

“But we’re reading Charlotte’s Web and we’re at the good part,” Molly whines.

When I glance down at Ryan, he’s got his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Wilbur is sad.”

“Aw, buddy,” I say, kneeling down beside him. “We’ll read it tomorrow night. Maybe you guys can read a different book tonight?” My eyes find Owen and I see something pass across his face that I don’t recognize. I swear for a moment there’s guilt there, which I get, but he has no reason to feel guilty at this moment. He’s the one that’s here and I’m leaving. The tables have turned and I’m getting a tiny dose of what he must go through every time he’s away.

Thankfully, he comes to my rescue and chimes in, “Yeah, we’ll read one of the new books I brought home.”

“Okay,” Molly finally acquiesces with a deep sigh.

With a nod of his head toward the door, Owen silently tells me to go while the getting is good, so I do, calling out goodbyes over my shoulder.

Once I’m outside, I hop in my car. The last time I drove it was over a week ago when I met Owen and the kids at the zoo.

It’s not just Owen’s house I’m starting to feel more at home in than my own, it’s also his vehicle… and his bed. As I drive down the street, I try to imagine the day I’m no longer living under his roof, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth and a heavy feeling in my stomach. I don’t like it, so I push it to the back of my mind and focus on the here and now.

Greer.

Dinner out.

Girl talk.

It’s exactly what I need.

Not Owen and his amazing orgasms.

No way, Jose.

My phone ringing makes me jump, but I quickly hit the button on my steering wheel to answer it.

“On my way,” I say as my greeting.

“I know we talked about going out, but what if we just go to your apartment and order in.” Greer doesn’t sound like her chipper self and I can hear the exhaustion in her voice.

I bite my lip as I come to a stop at Canal Street. “You okay?” I ask, watching the people walk across the busy intersection and catch a glimpse of a streetcar making its way down the track. With the palm trees illuminated by the setting sun, you can’t get much more New Orleans than this scene right here.

“Fine,” Greer sighs. “Just a shitty week. You seriously couldn’t have texted at a better time. If you hadn’t, I would’ve been drinking alone tonight.”

“That’s out of the question. Bitches don’t let bitches drink alone. It’s rule number one in the best bitches handbook.”

That at least gets me a small laugh. “And that’s why you’re my ride or die.”

“You have a key and you know where the wine is,” I tell her, crossing the busy road and venturing into the French Quarter. “If you get there before I do, make yourself at home.”

“I always do.”

“See you in a few,” I tell her before ending the call.

When I open the door to my apartment, Greer is already on the balcony, wineglass in hand.

“Drink,” she says, handing me my own glass without even looking at me.

“Spill,” I demand, taking the proffered glass and bringing it to my lips. As the aroma of my favorite wine hits my nose, I close my eyes and let it soak into my soul.

Owen was right, I really needed this.

“Where do I start?” she asks with a sigh as she plops down in one of my oversized patio chairs. “Your choices are asshole boss or douchebag date. Take your pick.”

I cringe, taking the seat opposite her and settling back against the plush cushion. “That bad, huh?”

“The worst.” Her eyes drift out over the balcony to the building across the street and then back to her lap where she’s cradling the glass of wine.

When she finally looks up at me, I can see the weariness and I realize that as crazy as my week has been, it hasn’t been nearly as bad as hers. Everything that went wrong in my world this week was easily fixed, and the silver lining was having Owen as a support, even from hundreds of miles away.

Standing up, I walk over to where she’s sitting and force her to scoot over. When she does, I squeeze in beside her and rest my head on her shoulder. “Start wherever you need to,” I tell her, pulling out my phone and swiping to the delivery app. “I’ll order us some food.”

“Remember that guy I told you about a couple weeks ago?” she asks.

“Yeah, the doctor,” I say, putting in an order for an ass load of sushi and hitting pay. “He’s from Birmingham, owns a house on the lake, and enjoys rock climbing and tai chi.”

Greer chuckles, making the last few drops of wine bounce in my glass. “What he failed to mention is he’s a narcissistic asshole.”

“God, I hate when they don’t check the narcissistic asshole box on their profile.”

Leaning over, she grabs the bottle of wine and splits what’s left into our glasses. “The worst part was our first two dates were perfect, which should’ve been a sign, but I was wearing those new relationship, rose-colored glasses and I totally missed the signs. Then, we slept together and shit went downhill.”

Pausing to take a drink, she shifts to face me. “He asked me to leave.”

“When?”

“Literally right after he orgasmed.”

My confused expression must say it all because Greer just raises her eyebrows in acknowledgement and nods. “Yeah, he said he doesn’t like sharing a bed with anyone and dismissed me like I was a child in a principal’s office. Before I could even gather my clothes and dress, he’d escaped to his bathroom and was showering by the time I left.”

“What a fucking asshole,” I say, standing to pace the balcony. “Did he at least text or call to make sure you made it home?”

“Nope,” Greer says, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep inhale. “He didn’t even call me the next day.”

“Have you talked to him since?”

She huffs out an unamused laugh. “Yeah, he texted today asking for a booty call. It was disgusting.”

“Well, he can go fuck himself.”

“That’s basically what I told him.”

When there’s a knock at the door, I retrieve our sushi and another bottle of wine. Greer continues to tell me about her equally shitty week at work and promises she won’t go out with the douchebag doctor again.

By the time we finish our third bottle, she’s yawning. “I’m going to regret this when I have to wake up in…” Pausing, she squints at her wrist. “Seven hours. Shit, I need to go.”

“You can sleep here,” I tell her, knowing she won’t take me up on it, but at least wanting to offer. “I’ll make sure you’re up in plenty of time to make it to the station.”

“No,” she says, her words slow and a bit slurred. “That’s sweet of you, but I don’t want you to have to get up at an ungodly hour too. Only one of us should suffer.”

Wrapping her in a hug, I hold on a little longer than normal. “I’m sorry things have been so sucky lately,” I tell her. “But you’re a bad ass bitch and I know there are good things for you on the horizon.”

“I love your optimism,” she says, leaning into the hug and giving it right back.

“Call me when you get home,” I instruct, when she gets a notification that her driver is downstairs.

“I will,” she says, grabbing her bag and phone from the bench in the foyer. “Love you.”

“Love you,” I call out, watching her until she disappears down the stairs. When she’s gone, I close the door and lock it, then head out to the balcony to watch her get into the car.

After I tidy up the balcony, I glance around the apartment and sigh.

This used to be my favorite place in the whole wide world. When I’d go off somewhere on a trip, the best part sometimes, was coming back to this apartment. Everything in here is a reflection of me. From the second I would walk in the door, I’d feel at home.

And I still do.

But right now, the only place I want to be is curled up beside Owen, with Molly and Ryan sleeping safe and sound downstairs.

Without a second thought, I order my own Uber and lock up my apartment.

I know I’ll have to Uber back here at some point and retrieve my car, but I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I just want to be…

Home.

But that’s not right.

And I know I shouldn’t feel this way.

The rational part of my brain is telling me to cancel the Uber and get back inside my apartment. Enjoy the space. Get my head and heart back on track. But I don’t do it.

Twenty minutes later, the car drives up in front of Owen’s house and I climb out, telling the driver thank you as I quietly close his door. It’s late and I know the kids are in bed. Owen probably is too.

As I stealthily unlock the front door and slip inside, I feel like a teenager sneaking in after curfew.

When a lamp in the living room turns on, I jump and let out a yelp.

Owen rises from the couch and walks closer. His hair is mussed and he’s wearing a white t-shirt that hugs his lean, muscular chest. But it’s the gray sweatpants that do it for me. Hanging low on his hips, they’re begging for me to remove them with my teeth.

Or that could be the wine talking.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming back tonight or not.” His voice is low and rumbly and it goes straight to my core.

Leaning back against the wall for support, I kick off my sandals. “Sorry,” I say quietly. “I probably should’ve stayed at my apartment, but—”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

The way he walks toward me resembles an animal stalking its prey. My skin feels hot as our eyes meet.

“I had too much wine,” I confess, feeling my cheeks heat at the confession.

“That’s okay,” he says with a smirk, finally close enough to reach out and touch me. His hand lingers at my waist before pulling me into his arms. “Did you have fun?”

I nod against his chest, breathing him in. “Yeah, I think Greer needed tonight more than I did.”

“Did she make it home safely?” he asks and my heart nearly breaks at his sweetness.

“Yeah, she texted me just before I got here.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” he mutters, his lips brushing over my forehead. “Let me take care of you.”