“You sure?” Raffi picks him up and spins him around. “You don’t think me and your mom would have fun going down the slides?”
Wyatt shakes his head emphatically. “No. Meeeeee! Take meeeee!”
Raffi laughs. “Okay, what do you say we go get your shoes on while your mom gets to eat a hot breakfast?”
Wyatt nods, grabs Raffi by the hand, and drags him toward his bedroom. Mom comes trudging down the hall, slippers protruding from the bottom of a fluffy green nightgown.
“What was all the fuss about?”
I open the bag Raffi handed me, and cheesy warm air smacks me right in the face. “Raffi brought breakfast.” Guessing each bagel is the same, I offer them to Mom. “Want one?”
She takes one and unwraps it with a groan.
“He then told Wyatt he was taking me to the Fun Station, and Wyatt lost his shit because he wanted to come too.”
Mom both laughs and burns her tongue at the same time. She’s always been a sucker for a breakfast bagel.
When I take the first bite of melty cheesy goodness, it blows my mind. The combination of egg and sausage is chef’s kiss. If Raffi doesn’t hurry back I’m going to eat his as well. Except, the bag has four more bagels inside.
I shouldn’t be surprised since Raffi most definitely loves his food. The guy’s constantly eating, and yet never gains a single poundin weight. Jerkface.
Why is it so many guys can eat whatever the hell they want, but when I so much as look at a calorie it takes up residence in my butt cheeks?
Speaking of my butt, my phone vibrates in my ass pocket. There’s a message from the bestie on the screen.
Eloise: Are you panicking? Please don’t panic. Raffi’s a nice guy, and he’s not going to leave you again.
Tori: It’s not Raffi I’m worried about. What if he decides he doesn’t like me?
The bagel lies heavy in my stomach. Why are we like this to ourselves? We tell our friends and our kids they’re the best thing in the world and mean it, but when it comes to self-talk we often don’t truly believe all the good things we say. Or anyone else says about us for that matter.
We can be such assholes to ourselves. I’m a fucking delight. I know this. But add in a boy I want to really like me, and I’m questioning everything about myself.
The fuck is that all about?
Eloise: Of course he likes you. What’s not to like? You’re a delight aren’t you?
I can’t help the grin spreading across my face. It’s like she’s in my head right now.
Tori: I’m an absolute fucking delight.
Eloise: Then what are you worried about? Worst case the two of you don’t work together as a couple and you figure out coparenting, best case you get something way cooler…
Tori:…
I don’t know that I want to figure out coparenting. Coparenting means splitting time with my kid. It means sharing holidays I’ve had all to myself since Wyatt was born. It means not being with him when he’s sick sometimes, or him hurting himself when he’s with Raffi and his family.
Shit.
Digging the heel of my hand into my chest doesn’t cure the ache spreading under my skin. I’m not ready for that. Not at all. Don’t know that I ever will be. Can I still be a good mom and let him go?
Ugh. The bagel swells as it travels down my body into my stomach, making me queasy.
Eloise: I don’t need to finish the sentence. But since you’re being obtuse.
Eloise: You could fall in love and be a family.
Eloise: I felt like that needed to be said in a message by itself.
