Page 45 of The Summer Plans

She holds out the cup for me, silently asking for a refill, and I take it. Two meatballs pelt the side of her face in rapid succession, landing on the table with a plop. Her eyes go wide, and she stares at them. “Who threw their balls at me?”

The entire table breaks out into a fit of laughter.

“Mom said balls!” Lucas squeals.

“Make her say it again!” Logan says though a fit of snort laughs.

Lana points a finger at Logan. “Logan did it.”

“Did not. It was Lucas.”

Lucas throws his hands up in defense. “Was not!”

I back away slowly, deciding to let Summer handle this one. Raising one teenage girl was hard enough; I don’t know how she’s raising three kids on her own.

When I open the fridge, the blue jug is near the front instead of hidden in the back, and when I lift it, it’s practically empty. Fuck.

“Are you getting Mom more juice?” Lana asks, startling me.

“Yeah. Hey, sweetie, when you refilled her drink, did you use this one?” I hold up the blue pitcher.

“Uh-huh. She likes it. It’s almost empty.”

My gut twists at her words. I poured half a bottle of rum in there. “You didn’t drink any of this one, did you?”

“Nope. I don’t like smoothies, only milkshakes.”

Phew. “What about your brothers?”

“I gave Logan the special one you made him. And Lucas didn’t drink any.”

“Okay. This is going to be okay.” I let out a deep breath.

Tears well in her eyes. “Did I mess up? I was trying to help.”

I set the pitcher on the counter and drop to my knees to address her. “Sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But your voice sounds like Daddy’s right before he used to yell at Mommy.”

What kind of dick would ever yell at that amazing woman? I have a million follow-up questions, but I shove my ego aside and focus on reassuring Lana. “I would never yell at you or your mom. I’m sorry if I scared you or reminded you of a bad memory of your dad. Your mom is one of my oldest friends, and I would never want to hurt her. But I don’t think she should have any more of her juice tonight.”

“Did Logan and Lucas put something in it? Is Mommy going to get sick?”

Oh, she’s gonna get sick alright.

Her lip trembles as she fights the urge to cry. This part of parenting sucks, and even though she’s not my daughter, I know I have to choose my words carefully, so I don’t scar her for life. She lets out a hiccupping breath as tears spill down her cheeks. Shit, how did I fuck this up?

“One time my brothers made Mom breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day, and they put poop juice in her orange juice.”

I bite my lips to hold in my laughter. I know Summer wouldn’t want me to know this, but curiosity gets the better of me. “Poop juice?”

“It was a bottle in the cupboard that had an orange on it. They put the whole bottle in her orange juice. Logan said he thought it would make it taste better. And Lucas said he didn’t know it would make her sick, but she was in the bathroom yelling at us the rest of the day.”

“Was it MiraLAX?”

“I dunno. But it made her so mad, and that’s why she said that she would only let me touch her food. Did I give her more poop juice?” More tears spill down her cheeks as I wipe them away and pull her into a hug.

This must be what the boys were referring to on the fishing trip when they said they made her breakfast wrong. If it’s possible to love this woman more, I do. Even after hearing stories about her kids accidentally dosing her with laxatives. It shouldn’t make me want her more, but it absolutely does. And now her poor daughter is worried she did the same thing to her mom.