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Her eyes had had time to dry, and now a soft smile was on her lips. Her makeup was still destroyed, but she somehow never looked more beautiful.
My hand wanted to slide to the back of her neck, my fingers push through her soft hair, and then kiss her. But if I kissed her, I wouldn’t stop kissing her, and it just wasn’t the right moment with Derek at the dinner table.
So, I didn’t. “Hungry?”
She was slightly disappointed, like she could read my thoughts, knew I wanted to kiss her but didn’t. “Yes, what’s on the menu?”
Derek yelled from the dining table. “Garbage.”
Cleo immediately chuckled. “That doesn’t sound good.”
I rolled my eyes. “Derek.”
“What?” he asked. “That’s what it looks like.” I headed to the table and pulled out the chair for her. I went into the kitchen and made her plate before placing it in front of her.
“See?” Derek asked. “It looks like the stuff that sits on top of the garbage can when you open it.”
Cleo tried to be serious, but it was hard to hide her smile. “I don’t think it looks that bad.”
“Yeah…okay.” Derek rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re a bitch.”
Cleo burst out laughing, like she knew Derek couldn’t possibly mean that literally, and it was a word he didn’t know how to use.
My eyes burned into Derek’s face.
He chuckled as he watched Cleo laugh.
“Derek.” I warned him with my tone, not afraid to discipline him even though I absolutely hated it. “What did I just tell you?”
“What?” Derek asked. “Cleo thought it was funny.”
Cleo immediately stopped laughing, as if she knew she was making this more difficult for me.
“Because you don’t understand how to use that word,” I snapped.
“Maybe I would if you would tell me what it means,” he snapped back.
I got to my feet instantly. “Go to your room.”
He sighed as he bowed his head. “Dad—”
“Go to your room, or I will carry you myself.” I pointed to the hallway as I stared him down.
“Fine…” He got off the chair and started to walk.
“And if you say that word again, I’m selling the cabin.”
“What?” He turned around. “Dad—”
“You want to make sure that doesn’t happen? Get ready for bed, and don’t come out of that bedroom until tomorrow morning.”
He turned around and walked away, his shoulders sagging and his feet dragging. His footsteps faded away, and then the bathroom door shut.
Cleo didn’t eat. She just looked at me. “I’m sorry. When I heard what he said, I just couldn’t help it—”
“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”
“Well…where did that come from?”
I felt a little guilty, because I was the one who’d introduced that word to him in a very inappropriate manner. “Valerie dropped him off a while ago, and she pissed me off. And then Derek kept asking for pizza since she always gives him pizza…so I called her a bitch.”
She laughed again but quickly covered her mouth with her hand to silence the sound.
“I told him not to repeat that word, but…he couldn’t help himself.”
She dropped her hand, a smile still on her lips. “He’s so smart that sometimes I forget he’s just a kid…”
“Yeah.” I found myself talking to him like an adult because of his maturity level, but he was still a young boy who liked all the attention from saying a bad word that had so much meaning. “I just don’t want him to go to school, calling his teacher a bitch…”
“It’d be pretty funny if he said it to Valerie, though…”
Valerie really was a bitch, but I felt terrible showing him that kind of behavior, calling a woman that, especially his mother. One day, he would understand the derogatory nature of the word and would remember that I’d said it. That wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be—and certainly not the kind of man I wanted my son to be.
She seemed to read my mood. “You can’t be perfect all the time, Deacon.”
“Yeah, but kids learn by what you do, not what you tell them to do. I don’t want him to think talking about a woman like that is okay, even if it’s justified.”
“Derek will grow up to a good man. This one incident won’t change that.” She took a bite of her food. “And if you sell that cabin, I’ll never forgive you.” She pointed her fork at me.
I smiled slightly. “Never.”
“Good.”
I could never get rid of the happiest place in the world.
She finished all her food, enjoying it, unlike my son. She also helped herself to the bottle of wine I’d left on the table. “How was your day?”
“Fine. Yours?”
“Busy. How’s your research going?”
I hadn’t talked to her about that in a long time. “I’m having a lot of success with my clinical trials.”
“That’s amazing. Great news.”
“But also a lot of failures. Some of my patients are recovering, while others aren’t…and I can’t figure out why.”
