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“Don’t worry about it, Felicity. It happens,” Sutton says. “Eat. Like Owen said, it’s not as good as your breakfasts, but it’s not all that bad.”
I’m already walking away.
“I’m not hungry yet, but thank you,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m sure it’s good.”
The relief I feel when I reach the coffeepot is acute.
I need coffee like I need my next breath.
As soon as I’m alone, I’m setting my alarm to go off at the same time every morning. Never again will I rely on myself to do it the night before.
I jump when Owen pops up next to me.
“I’ll help you with my lunch,” he says.
I lean down and tousle his hair. “Thank you, but I’ve got it, Ace. You should enjoy your breakfast with your mom.”
“But—” He looks back at the table and up at me and then sighs. “Okay.”
Now I feel bad for sending him away. He seems so dejected.
Once I have a little coffee in my system, I’m less rattled. I feel Tracy’s eyes on me, but I try to pretend I’m the happy, professional nanny who isnotscrewing her ex-husband.
Can she tell? Is that why she’s so hostile?
When I open the refrigerator, the cool blast of air helps. I stand there hiding for a few long seconds before getting to work. I’m glad for the lunch system I set up, it makes the mornings painless. Making Owen’s and often Sutton’s—if he doesn’t have lunch plans—lunches is one of my favorite things to do. The bento boxes I bought for them have five sections—one large, one small, and three medium. Owen’s is smaller than Sutton’s, but it’s the same setup.
I work on their sandwiches first, cutting the crusts off more for the cute factor than anything. I put turkey, cheese, and lettuce between the slices of bread—finely chopped jalapenos on Sutton’s—cut the bread into strips, and then roll them until they’re little pinwheels. In the medium-sized section, I arrange the carrots, celery, and cucumbers I’d already chopped, and in the smallest section, I add Ranch dressing. I fill the other medium section with raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries that were also ready to go, and in the last medium section, I add their favorite chips. Sutton likes jalapeno potato chips, and Owen likes the plain. For a tiny sweet, I sprinkle a few chocolate chips in the top corner of the fruit section and call it done.
“You’re giving my son chocolate and potato chips every day?” Tracy says from the table.
“Tracy,” Sutton says, his voice low.
“What? I have a right to know.”
Owen jumps up and carries his box to the table. “Did you see everything else? She mixes it up every day. Sometimes we have taco salad, sometimes there’s yogurt and granola instead of chips. But Felicity makes me eat my vegetables every day. Dad too. Right, Dad?”
I turn so they don’t see my eyes filling. Owen is killing me. He’s trying so hard, and his mom seems like a—well, I don’t need to go there. I need to get out of here.
“Yes, she does,” Sutton says pointedly to Tracy. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful lunch box? But it’d be okay if she threw it into a brown paper sack with baggies and only one vegetable instead of three, not to mention all that goddamn fruit…” He sighs and reaches into his pocket, giving Owen a dollar. “Sorry, son.” He takes a deep breath. “Felicity puts time and care into our lunches, not to mention a helluva lot of other things, and you don’t get to come in here and disrespect her.”
Tracy blinks at the box, her lips pursed. “I didn’t see the fruit.” She sniffs.
The mood is tense now. Normally, I’d tell Owen to rinse his plate and put it in the dishwasher and then go brush his teeth, but I don’t want to give any instructions with his mom around.
Owen brings the bento box back to the island and puts the lid on it.
“I love your lunches,” he whispers.
“I’m so glad,” I whisper back, grinning. “Are you done with breakfast?”
“Yep.” He turns and gets his plate from the table, rinses, and puts it in the dishwasher without me even asking. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” he says, dashing up the stairs.
I put the lid on Sutton’s box and set it near his bag, and then I start putting the food away and cleaning up. When Sutton standsfrom the table, I’m worried he’s going to leave me alone with Tracy, but he walks over to the island and gives me an apologetic look.
“Thanks for the lunches. They look great.”
I nod, my jaw clenching. “No problem.”
