I didn’t think today would be as great as it turned out because if I’m being honest with myself, I’d rather be spending it with Jules and not three kids, who are very cute and a ton of fun, but they aren’t who I want to be spending the majority of my day with. The weekends are special opportunities for me and Jules because her schedule is far too hectic during the week to spend much time with me, and my weekends are hit or miss depending on our travel schedule. It’s sad to say that most of the time Jules and I are bonding via phone calls and FaceTime, which isn’t without merit. We’ve had conversations that have lasted a few hours at a time, which I know if we were together we’d spend it fucking, so in a way we’re getting to know each other even better.

Jules and I have shared so much over the phone, and it’s safe to say she knows more about me than anyone in my life maybe except my parents and siblings. I definitely know all about her, which included deep talks about death, loss, and grieving. We talk about Melody a lot actually.

She’s also let me know how scared she’s been these past few months, having lost her best friend when Melody died, and not having anyone else to depend on. I learned all about her dad, whom she loves, there’s no doubt, but who you can tell is completely undependable. He’s on the road so much that he only sees Jules every few months and usually only for a few days at a time.

I was gone most of this past week with a three game road trip, and thus I’d really, really wanted to have Saturday to spend with Jules. Sunday we had a home game, so that blew most of that day, which meant Saturday was my golden opportunity.

But then Jules told me last night before the team boarded the plane to return to Raleigh that Olivia and Stevie had invited her for a spa day with them, and she wanted to know what I thought about it.

And I most definitely had thoughts.

My initial and most selfish thought was “no fucking way” because I wanted Saturday with her, even if that included the kids, which it would.

But my secondary thought, and the one that ultimately felt right, was that Jules could really use a day off. She’s still working essentially two jobs between the nursing home and painting at night, and she basically runs on fumes. A spa day of relaxation would do her a world of good, and “spa day” didn’t truly mean all day. It was really for only about four hours and they’d booked it for the afternoon, so I could spend time with Jules that morning.

So I told her, “Baby . . . that sounds awesome.”

“Really?” she asked, and I could hear the worry in her voice. “You don’t think it’s frivolous? I mean . . . Stevie said he had some coupons, and I’ve sold more paintings than I had figured, so I have a little extra cash—”

“Jules,” I admonished her. “Will you just do something for yourself, please? You deserve this.”

She huffed, then was silent as she contemplated. I waited for her to think it through, and finally when she spoke, she utterly warmed my heart. “But that’s four hours I’ll be losing that I could spend with you.”

I had to give a little cough to clear my throat, but I couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice when I said, “Jules . . . go to the spa, have a great time. I’ll take the kids and we’ll do something fun so you can save on the babysitter.”

“You seriously want to take three rambunctious kids on for half a day?” she asked skeptically.

No.

“Of course I do,” I assured her. “I’ll come over and we’ll do breakfast, then hang for a while. Then we’ll do lunch. Then you’ll go get buffed and polished or whatever it is you do at a spa and I’ll handle the kids.”

“I have no idea what you do at a spa,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve never been.”

That made me sad. Someone like Jules deserved to be pampered, and I vowed that I’d make her regular spa appointments and watch the kids for her so she could get rejuvenated.

Ultimately, she agreed to go, and I got to spend the first half of the day with her, even if part of that time was spent hanging at her apartment so she could do laundry. I only conceded to this because Jules promised she’d come to tomorrow’s game with the kids, and in order to do that, she had to get some shit handled today. That included getting all the kids’ clothes washed and apparently it meant the floors had to be vacuumed and mopped.

And even though part of my day with Jules included me helping her to do these things, there still wasn’t any place I’d rather be.

I watch as Annabelle attempts a massive spoonful of ice cream to her mouth but it bobbles and starts to slip off the side. My hand shoots out just as it falls and I catch it square on my palm. She looks down at my hand and then back up to me with a grin. “Oops.”

I laugh, grab a handful of napkins and wipe my hand. “How about you take some smaller bites. There’s no rush to get it all down.”

“Can’t help it,” she says as she grabs another big spoonful. “It’s too good and we hardly get to eat ice cream.”

I blink at her in surprise and ask, “What do you mean hardly?”

“We get to eat ice cream,” Rocco says as he looks at me across the table. “But it’s usually the cheap stuff from the grocery store. Or Popsicles.”

“It’s all Aunt Jules can afford,” Levy adds matter-of-factly.

I look at all three kids, my gaze sweeping around the table, completely blindsided that this is a major treat for them and utterly astounded they understand the concept of Jules’ struggles.

“But it’s okay,” Rocco adds on quickly, and I’m thinking he caught something on my face that has him struggling. “Aunt Jules takes really good care of us and she’d give us more if she could.”

“She will,” I say, my voice hoarse with uncertainty. “Her paintings are selling really well, and it’s just a matter of time. Maybe she’ll even be able to quit that job at Sweetbrier.”

“Nah,” says Rocco as he digs his spoon back into his ice cream. “She loves that place.”

“I don’t understand why,” Levy mutters. “She took us there one time to visit those old people and it stinks.”

Rocco elbows Levy in the ribs, and Levy throws a punch to Rocco’s shoulder as he glares at him.

“They can’t help it,” Annabelle pipes up with a sweet voice, and I turn to look at her as she stares Levy down. “They’re old, and when you get old there’s some things you can’t help. Aunt Jules says we need to be nice to them.”