Mom gives me a quick hug as I hurry back to the car with my camera. “You kids have fun.”
Raffi double checks Wyatt’s seatbelt before getting in the car and letting me do a final check. I’m sure it’s good, but there’s no harm in being super safe when it comes to car seatsafety. He’s still rear-facing, and will be until he’s fifty. Height limit be damned.
Ugh. Fine. Maybe not quite thirty-five but as close as I can get. The idea of him riding up front in the passenger seat makes me break out in a cold sweat.
“Ready?” Raffi unwraps another bagel and sits it on his lap.
“Ready!” Wyatt screams from the backseat.
I give one final wave out the window to Mom as we pull away from the sidewalk and will my flapping stomach to simmer the fuck down. It’s just indoor play and a walk around some gardens. No big deal.
So why does it feel like it’s a big fucking deal?
CHAPTER 30
Raffi
This is the most fun I’ve had in as long as I can remember. There’s something freeing about channeling your inner kid and just letting go.
Can’t remember the last time I was in a maze, but from the delighted shrieks of my son as I chase him through the squishy foam play area, it won’t be my last.
We’ve been here for an hour. For the first forty minutes, Victoria joined us inside the play frame. She doesn’t like to be too far from Wyatt, that much is clear, and I can’t really blame her. She’s been a single mom for his entire life, since that stick showed two lines, and as such, she’s got a tight grip on the reins.
Even now, I encouraged her to chill out with a snack and a coffee but her gaze is heavy on my skin. I bet she’s had to abandon any number of fresh, steaming hot cups of coffee over the years, and even though it’s play maze coffee, I figure it counts.
If someone had told me to take a load off and go have a snack, I’d grab the chance with both hands. And I’m not a single parent. But Victoria, something won’t let her disconnect.She said she has stuff to read on her phone, a reading app, but every time I glance her way, her eyes are on me, not the screen.
I’m not mad about it. I don’t begrudge her wanting to make sure Wyatt is safe. She knows me as a hockey playing douche who got her knocked up and ran away. But over time I’m sure she’ll see I can be trusted to hang out with Wyatt a little more. Sure, I have a lot of stuff to learn, but I bought a book on parenting and even started reading it. I’m not normally a fan of non-fiction stuff, but this is a subject I most definitely need guidance on.
Wyatt tugs my hand, guiding me back toward the slide. We’ve become fast friends, and I love it. He’s such a fun dude, and while the parenting book prepared me for something called a “Threenager” I haven’t witnessed demon mode yet.
When we reach the bottom of the slide, before we even manage to get to our feet, an older kid barrels across the foam padded floor, crashing into Wyatt who tips backward and lands flat. The shrill wail can be heard three zip codes over as thick tears spill down his cheeks.
The temptation to get up and chase the older kid and kick his ass is tempting. But I’m pretty sure that’s a no-no. Right? Grown-ass adults can’t just beat on little kids for being careless and knocking their kid over. Yeah. Sounds right.
Instead, I bend and pick Wyatt up, giving him a once over to make sure he’s good. No blood, no signs of a bump or bruising, it must have just been the shock of being knocked on his ass that made him cry. I can relate, sometimes when my legs go out from under me on the ice without warning, I want to cry too. It’s not a fun feeling.
Victoria appears at our side in seconds, like she watched the whole thing. She holds her hands out to Wyatt but he tucks his head into the crease of my neck and clings tighter. She can’t hide the hurt that lingers in her features, the sad eyes,the downturned lips, but she offers me a reassuring pat on the arm.
“You’re doing great.”
Not sure if she’s happy or sad that I’m doing great as there’s a pang of disappointment hanging on her words that feels awfully like she wants me to fail. I’m sure she doesn’t. She’s probably just scared of me spending time with Wyatt and not wanting to include her.
“Hey.” I cup her face with my free hand, acutely aware we’re in a kid’s play area and kissing the shit out of her at the bottom of the slide is probably uncool, too. Yet the urge is like fire in my veins. “You’re a package deal for me, you know?”
Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t seem convinced as she nibbles on her lip.
“I mean it. I want things to work out between you and me as much as I want to be a good…” I pause, he’s right here, and I don’t want to say the D word in front of him yet. “I want to be there for Wyatt. I’m falling for you, Victoria. I’m not here to take him from you, or to make you feel less of a mom, or whatever fears are floating around in that smart brain of yours. Consider me back up, a relief pitcher after some long, hard innings by yourself. I want to be a good role model, sure, but I also want to be a good partner to his mom.”
I mean every fucking word of it, too.
The smile on her face is shaky, vulnerable, and tells me I’m not too far wrong with my guess that she doesn’t want to be pushed out of her kid’s life in any way. Which is fine for me, because that’s not what I want either.
Standing up from a foam mat with a spider monkey kid clinging to your person takes more core control than I apparently have. Turns out, Dad muscles and hockey player covered in heavy hockey equipment muscles are totally different. It’s wobbly, takes a few attempts, and results inVictoria snorting with laughter, but we get there in the end. Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m not wearing skates.
Wyatt refuses to let go. Victoria says he doesn’t take midday naps anymore, but this mini firecracker is tired.
“Should we go for a drive? See if we can get him to take a n-a-p?”
