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Chapter Two
The next morning I awoke slowly, wishing I’d gotten drunk enough to have forgotten everything from the prior night. After the revelation of my slip-up with Mark the lawyer, not Mark the psychologist, I’d excused myself to have a proper freak-out in the bathroom. Then I put on my big-girl panties and faced everyone for a few more minutes before saying goodnight. I hadn’t dared make eye contact with the handsomer of the Marks, nor did I bother to do more than say hi to Mark the therapist—who happened to be twenty years older than hot Mark, with a graying beard and non-orgasm-fantasy-inspiring fingers.
I groaned, just thinking about all of the personal stuff I’d vomited up all over the first Mark. He probably thought I was the biggest sex-starved whack-a-doo on the planet, someone who needed a therapist now more than ever.
Sighing with regret, I shoved the whole situation to the side when I heard Tristan’s laughter coming from the other room. Because here’s the thing I was quickly learning about a hangover and little ones: they don’t mix. Yet even with a pounding head, I couldn’t wait to spend time with my son.
Of course, the closeness I felt with him had caused a lot of the tension in my marriage. I worked full time; therefore, my weekends were a chance to catch up on all of the wonders I’d missed during the week with my baby. But Rob had never shared that view. Instead, he’d try to guilt me about not paying enough attention to him. When that didn’t work out, he’d leave the house completely. Funny how I’d be relieved when he would. Maybe I could have spent more time on my marriage, but I doubt it would have helped. From the moment I’d gotten pregnant, Rob had started to withdraw and developed a mean streak. It was as if he’d had a midlife crisis and decided to wake up one day and resent me and the ball and chain I’d supposedly put on him.
I found a travel sized pack of Ibuprofen and brushed my teeth before heading into the living room. There my pride and joy was drinking milk and cuddling with his grandma.
His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he smooshed a kiss against my face when I leaned in for a kiss. “Hi, Mama,” he said in that cute little toddler way, making me melt.
“Hi, baby. Did you have fun with Grandma last night?”
He nodded and then pointed toward his train while making choo-choo noises.
“Did you enjoy the party?” my mom asked as I sat on the sofa with my bottle of water I’d grabbed from the refrigerator.
“A little too much, by way of martinis and a couple shots of something. My drinking tolerance is for shi—uh, shizzles.” I quickly amended the last word, still working on my potty mouth. I probably owed a good twenty dollars toward the curse jar from last night.
“Are you all packed?” Reality was starting to settle in that this afternoon my mother was flying back to North Carolina, and I’d be on my own.
“Yep. After your sister has the baby in a couple of weeks, I’ll come back up here over a long weekend. Maybe Halloween.”
Although I was aware of the likelihood I’d have to be up here for at least a couple months, hearing my mother confirm it was tough. “Yeah. That sounds great.”
Three hours later Tristan and I dropped Grandma off at the airport. We then headed to the local grocery store, a place Haylee had been nice enough to show me a couple days ago. While I was perusing the aisles, a thought occurred to me. Since Brian and Sasha were still in town, I’d cook a big dinner tonight. They were all at a charity luncheon today but had said they’d come by later and we’d all order dinner. How better to both convey my thanks and do something I enjoyed than to cook a big meal instead. Matter of fact, I’d invite Haylee and Josh as well.
The challenge became apparent, however, when I pulled into the parking lot and had seven bags to carry up three flights of stairs—along with my toddler. Suddenly I missed pulling my Explorer into my warm garage with only eight feet separating the car from the kitchen. Tristan wasn’t at an age to leave by himself, so I piled all of the bags on my left arm and took him by the hand.
I made it two flights before the pain of the plastic handles cut off circulation. Meanwhile, Tristan decided sloth speed was in order for climbing steps. After setting half the bags down on the first-floor landing, I scooped him up and walked the remaining steps to my apartment. Desperate for some sort of ‘kid-friendly cage,’ I quickly popped open his Pack ‘n Play and set him inside of it with a few of his trains.
“Give me two minutes, Tristan. Please. Only two.”
As I rushed down the stairs like a mad woman, my brain filled with absurd visions of my baby falling out of his temporary prison while I selfishly tried to rescue the ingredients for enchiladas, I turned the final corner and ran smack into Mark. That is, the way-too-hot-to-be-a-lawyer-and-definitely-not-a-therapist Mark.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I just—I’m in a hurry ‘cause Tristan is upstairs.”
I’m sure it only came out a jumble of words as he merely steadied me and then bent down to pick up the bags.
“You go, then. I got these.”
I hesitated only a moment before racing back up the stairs while throwing a “thank you” over my shoulder. Of course, when I went inside, I found that Tristan had barely moved a muscle. He was intent on his trains rather than teetering precariously on the edge of danger.
Meanwhile, I was completely out of breath, my little sprint calling attention to how out of shape I was. At the sound of footsteps, I turned.
“Where would you like these?” Mark asked, stepping over the couple of bags I’d already dumped on the floor.
“On the counter would be great.” While he did as I asked, I moved the first load into the kitchen as well.
“Are you here to visit Haylee and Josh?” Although I tried to make small talk, I could feel my face flush as I remembered last night when I’d completely word-vomited all over the man.
“Uh, no. I have an office across the hall.”
“Oh. Right. I think Haylee mentioned that.” The thought of seeing him here often was both unsettling and exciting. The fact that he was dressed in a nice charcoal gray suit was doing nothing to ease my brain from leaning towards the latter.
“Mama.” Tristan’s voice broke my pervy thoughts of our neighbor just in time, giving me the reality check I needed.
