Thirty minutes later they were testing the bounce in the two double beds as Gabe tried to decide which one he wanted. She unpacked the single suitcase she’d carried up the three flights of stairs. She really had to think about starting to work out again. Her heart was still racing from the climb.
“We’re going out for dinner,” she said. “How about spaghetti?”
Gabe flung himself at her, wrapping both his arms around her thighs and squeezing as hard as he could. She stroked his soft brown hair.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he whispered.
Because eating his favorite food in a restaurant was a rare treat.
Jesse wondered if she should feel guilty for not cooking her first night in Seattle, then decided she would beat herself up later. Right now she was tired. It had been a five-hour drive from Spokane, and she’d worked well past midnight the previous evening, wanting to earn every last tip she could. Money was going to be tight while she was in Seattle.
“You’re welcome.” She dropped to her knees so she was at eye level with him. “I think you’ll really like this place. It’s called the Old Spaghetti Factory.” A perfect, kid-friendly restaurant. No one would care if Gabe made a mess and she could have a glass of wine and pretend that everything was all right.
“Do I meet my daddy tomorrow?”
Jesse’s heart raced again and this time it had nothing to do with taking the stairs. “Probably not tomorrow, but soon.”
Gabe bit his lower lip. “I love my daddy.”
“I know you do.”
Or at least the idea of having a father. Her son was the reason she’d decided to face all the ghosts in her past and come home. He’d started asking questions about his father a year ago. Why didn’t he have a daddy? Where was his daddy? Why didn’t his daddy want to be with him?
Jesse had debated lying, simply saying that Matt was dead. But five years ago, when she’d left Seattle, she’d vowed to live her life differently. No more lies. No more screwing up. She’d worked hard to grow up, to make a life she was proud of, to raise a son on her own, to be honest, no matter what.