I should do the same, or at the very least ensure Clover and I are never alone together again.
Not ever.
As I head down to the kid zone, I vow to make that happen. If I haven’t already ruined things, I’ll make sure I don’t give myself a chance to screw up again.
The girls are where I left them, still deep in pretend fun with Mimi, but tired enough now that they don’t put up much of a fight when I say it’s time to head home for bath and story time. I promise to let them play mermaids in the bath, too, before bed,and Ava happily hunts down their shoes, while I locate Bella’s lost socks in the ball pit.
We say our goodbyes to Elly and Mimi and the other kids they’ve had fun playing with, then head for the truck. As I strap the girls into their car seats, they both smell of cotton candy, rubber from the play structure, and little kid sweat. Innocent smells that make me even more ashamed of the way I smelled when I first got to the men’s room.
I washed most of the sex scent away, but still…
I certainly don’t feel like Dad of the Year.
And if Clover gives notice before Monday morning, I’m going to be in deep shit. I have a travel game next week and, if my nanny quits, there’s no one to watch the girls while I’m gone. Not to mention the fact that Ava and Bella would be devastated, forced to deal with another unexpected loss after they’ve already lost so much.
I drive home in the dark, feeling like garbage.
I get the kids ready for bed, dread filling my stomach, and tuck them in so full of regret, I can’t look myself in the eye as I brush my teeth.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, either. I lie awake hour after hour without hearing a peep from the road outside. Either Clover’s decided to stay out extra late or she’s gone home with someone else.
She might be fucking me out of her system with a guy she met on the dance floor right now…
The thought opens up a black hole of emotions I refuse to examine too closely as I roll onto my side and wait for the sun to rise, hoping things might look better in the morning.
Spoiler: they do not look better in the morning.
And by the time the girls and I leave for a Dinosaurs and Donuts event at the museum at ten, Clover still isn’t home.
I’m about to text her to make sure she’s okay, when I see a notification that I missed in the morning bustle.
It’s from Clover and reads simply—Stayed at a friend’s house last night, so I wouldn’t have to drag home late and risk waking you guys. May stay here tonight, too. But I’ll be there bright and early Monday morning for the girls. No worries. See you then, Boss.
Boss.
I’m still her boss. She isn’t quitting, and that is…good.
It really is.
So, why does it make me feel even more like shit than I did before?
Sixteen
CLOVER
The Following Weekend…
I can no longer denythat I have issues.
Maybe even serious issues.
Thankfully, an addiction to cigarettes isn’t one of them.
But that’s not going to stop me from taking a smoke break. Everyone else at The Wall takes at least three a shift, and I’m done losing out on break time because I’m one of the “good girls.”
Hell, I may be done being a “good girl.” Period.
What has being a good girl ever gotten me? Not much as far as I can tell.
