Page 42 of Tastes Like Summer

My heart jumps, tears building in my eyes. “Emi? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. It was just an accident. But Michael is being super nice, and he’s doing all the right things. Don’t be mad at him, Mami. Or me. It was just an accident,” she repeats.

I stifle a sob. “I’m not mad at you. I just wish…” I just wish things weren’t like this. I just wish I didn’t feel this alone. “I just wish I were there with you.”

“Well, Michael says we’ll see you later this afternoon, so don’t worry about it.”

“Later? No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m headed home now. Michael, can you drive them to my place, and I’ll meet you there, please? I just need to excuse myself from this meeting and grab my things and⁠—”

“What? No,” Michael says loudly. “Absolutely not. You are not coming home now. Not while you’re still in the middle of this thing. Not until you’re done with what you went there to do.” His voice sounds clearer, like he’s taken me off speakerphone, but there must be a problem with the connection because there’s no way he just told me not to come home after what happened.

“Excuse me?”

“Diana, you are not leaving in the middle of this meeting. You told me how important it is, and I am not going to let you mess this up.”

“Michael, my daughter is unwell. I have to go to her.”

“Your daughter is not unwell. At least, not anymore. I did everything you taught me to do and the situation has been handled. Her glucose levels are under control—or on their way—and I will be taking all three girls back to your place so she can rest—where is the spare key hidden by the way?—and you’re going to stay there and wow your boss because you know your shit and are good at what you do. Do you understand?”

“I-I-I can’t,” I stutter, shocked he would even suggest it. “What kind of mother would that make me if I just stay here? A selfish one. An irresponsible one. I can’t just abandon them and⁠—”

“You’re not abandoning your children, Diana. Believe me—I know abandonment. I know this is going to be really difficult for you to hear,” he says, lowering his voice, “but you deserve this. You deserve a career, and you deserve this time, and taking it doesn’t make you a bad mother.”

“But I am! I should be there with Emi, and I should be⁠—”

“First of all, Emi is fine. You were an amazing mother and explained everything I had to do if an emergency situation arose, and I followed your instructions, and things are good. She’s got some color in her, she’s sitting up and talking with the girls. And like I said, we’re gonna head home, slap on a movie, and everything will be fine. Second, I’m going to tell you something I’ve heard about a million times since becoming a single parent.”

“And what’s that?” I sniffle, my heart breaking.

“The fact that you’re even a little bit stressed about what kind of parent you’re being already makes you a far better one than most. And believe me when I say that no one who knows you for even a second would ever dream of thinking you’re subpar. At anything, really, but especially at this whole parenting thing.”

I struggle to stifle the soft cries rising through my chest.

“Don’t waste this opportunity. Please. You deserve this, and your kids deserve this. They deserve to see their mother’s success, too. I know this isn’t easy for you, but trust me. Let me be here for you. I want to be here for you so you can succeed.”

His words rock me, a sob I pray he didn’t hear over the phone bursting from my lips.

He waits patiently for my response as I weigh all options in silence.

Finally, I speak: “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll stay. But text me every step of the way back. I want a progress report every five minutes.”

I practically hear his dimpled smile over the phone. “Yes, of course.”

“And I want regular updates as soon as you get home, too.”

“Obviously.”

“I mean it!”

“Okay.” He says calmly. “Don’t worry. I got this.”

I blow out a breath. “Yeah. I think you do.”

He chuckles softly.

“Michael?”

“Yeah?”