Page 60 of Teach Me Your Ways

24

CECE

Iunfolded the napkin with a little sigh, smoothing out the crinkles as I scanned the restaurant. The sound of conversations around us felt familiar. The smell of sizzling bacon and coffee made me feel almost normal. Almost. Saturday morning breakfast was part of our regular routine. Mom insisted on all of us taking a morning off. No studying. No working. No housework and definitely no one making breakfast.

Across from me, Mom sat with her ritual breakfast: two perfectly hard-boiled eggs and a cup of black coffee that burned the inside of her mouth just the way she liked it. Beside her, Sophie was about halfway through a plate of waffles, bright red strawberries melting into maple syrup. The whipped cream that had been on top of the waffles had been eaten or melted into the syrup.

I took a bite of my omelet. It was my standard fare and usually my favorite. I stared down at the eggs, cheese, and spinach mixture. I wasn’t hungry. Regret had soured my appetite. How could I have done that to myself? I had fucked my professor. Not once. Not twice. Three times.

And I knew if he offered a fourth, I would jump at the chance. There was clearly something wrong with me, like I was trying to blow up my whole life with bad decisions. I was used to college guys balking at the idea of hooking up with a chick that had a kid. Grady was an adult. Why was he so thrown off by the idea?

I couldn’t stop replaying that moment when his entire expression changed. One second he was asking me to stay the night, voice all husky and satisfied, and the next he was staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

The look on his face when I said “daughter” pissed me off. You’d think I’d told him I had a communicable disease. His whole body went rigid, pulled away from me like I might contaminate him. Like Sophie’s existence somehow made me damaged goods.

I stabbed at my omelet with more force than necessary. Mom glanced up from her eggs, eyebrow raised, but didn’t say anything. Smart woman.

What really pissed me off was how good it had been. How fucking incredible he’d made me feel. I’d never come that hard in my life, never felt so completely consumed by another person. He’d worshipped my body like I was some kind of goddess, made me feel sexy and wanted and perfect. Right up until the moment I became a mom instead of just a woman.

“Mommy, you’re making an angry face,” Sophie announced around a mouthful of waffle. “Did they forget the cheese in your omelet?”

I forced my expression to soften. “No, baby. Just thinking about class stuff.”

Class stuff. Right. My assignments were simple compared to the complicated puzzle that Grady was. I kept moving the pieces around in my head, trying to figure out how to make it fit together.

I caught my mom watching me again. Where is your mind?

I forced a smile. “It’s good, I promise.”

She gave a gentle nod and returned to cradling her coffee. Sophie launched into a story about a dog she saw on her latest beach walk. “And then the doggy ran right up to me, Mommy! He was so fluffy and his tail was wagging like this—” She demonstrated with her arm, nearly knocking over her glass of orange juice. “And he licked my hand! It was so slobbery but I didn’t even care because he was so cute!”

I smiled despite the knot in my stomach, reaching over to wipe a bit of syrup from her cheek with my napkin. “That sounds like a very friendly dog.”

“He was!” Sophie exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “His name was Max, and his mommy said he loves kids. I told her I want a dog too but couldn’t get one until you got a job.” Her face fell slightly, and she poked at her waffle with her fork. “When are we gonna get a house? So I can have a dog?”

The question was fair but it still sucked. I glanced at Mom. She didn’t say anything, just sipped her coffee and let me handle it. I had probably asked her for a dog when I was Sophie’s age. I did remember having a cat, but never a dog.

“We’ll get a house one day, Soph,” I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. “But it takes time to save up for one. And when we do, we’ll make sure it has a big backyard for your dog.”

Sophie perked up immediately. “A big backyard? With a swing set too?”

“Of course,” I said, ruffling her hair. “And one of those playhouses you like.”

She squealed with delight, already launching into plans for her future dog—what color it would be, what toys it would have, what tricks she would teach it. I listened half-heartedly, nodding along while my mind wandered back to last night.

“Mommy?” Sophie’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She was staring at me with those big blue eyes that always seemed to see right through me. “Are you sure your omelet had enough cheese?”

I forced another smile and shook my head. “It was great, baby. I’m just tired.”

She frowned, clearly not buying it, but before she could press further, Mom intervened.

“Why don’t we talk about your future dog some more, Sophie?” Mom said. “What kind of dog do you think you want? A big one or a little one?”

Sophie’s face lit up again, and she launched into a detailed description of her dream dog, complete with hand gestures and sound effects. I shot Mom a grateful look, but she just gave me a small smile over the rim of her coffee cup. I knew she had some suspicions about what I had been doing last night. She didn’t know who I was doing it with, but she wasn’t naive. And she probably knew what time I rolled in, doing my walk of shame.

“Will we live here?” Sophie asked.

I blinked. “What?”