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"Honey, I got tickets to the Cards-Cubs series this weekend. There is a Saturday game at eleven in the morning and then a twelve o'clock game on Sunday."
"Oooh, that sounds like fun!" I answer excitedly. "We would love to go."
"That’s just it. We only have three tickets and I was hoping to bring Max," my Dad says hesitantly. "But I don't want to hurt your feelings. You know you'll always be my Missy Moo Cow, but Max is young and all of this is new to him and he has so much fun. He loves baseball."
Tears sting my eyes and I squeeze them shut, holding back the emotion that’s clawing its way up my throat at the mention of my childhood nickname. Apparently when I was a toddler, I thought that every animal said, ‘moo.’ I'm not sure how he got the name, but ever since then my dad has always called me Missy Moo Cow.
My dad hasn't called me Missy Moo Cow since the night of my attack.
"He loves everything, dad," I murmur, mostly to myself. "It's okay, you can take him."
"Sweetie," my mom croons. "We aren't trying to take him away from you. We know we had him last Saturday, but...well...we aren't getting any younger and Max is growing up so fast." She sniffs lightly into the phone and continues. "One of these days he won't want to do things like this with us."
"It's really okay, Mom. I understand. It's not a big deal. So what's the plan? What time do you want to pick him up on Saturday and Sunday?" I ask, sitting up so I can keep a better eye on my little pirate.
"Well...” my mom drags out. Oh Lord, this should be good. "The games aren't in St. Louis. They're in Chicago."
I jump up, brushing the grass off my butt. "What? No. Sorry, I'm not ready for that." What the hell? I've never been away from Max for longer than a night. There's no way in hell I could go a whole weekend.
"See, I told you, Marie," my dad chastises.
"Oh, sweetie. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. We aren't going to let anything happen to Max. We're going to have so much fun! We'll go to the games, and I want to take him to Navy Pier and let him ride that big Ferris wheel," Mom says hopefully.
I grip my phone tighter in my left hand and throw my right hand in the air. "It's not about that, Mom!" I snarl. "You know that I trust you guys more than anyone else. Keeping him for one night is okay when you're just down the road, but keeping him for two nights when you're five hours away doesn't sit well with me. What if something happens?" I ask in disbelief.
"Its okay, honey," Dad says, followed by whispered words that I can't quite make out. Am I being irrational? "Your mom and I will go by ourselves; it's not a big deal."
Turning toward the swing set, I watch Max play. He stands about ten feet from his swing and runs at it with full speed. His little arms are pumping furiously and his legs are moving in rapid succession. Reaching his arms out, he leaps onto the swing on his belly and pretends he is flying. I hate missing out on this stuff. I don't want to miss out on anything.
It's not that I don't want Max to go; I just wish I could go with him. Maybe I want to be there when he rides that big Ferris wheel. Did they ever think of that? Ugh! As much as I want to be there for everything, I understand that it's not possible. There are moments in his life that I will inevitably miss, and right now I should just be grateful that I have two wonderful parents who love my son as much as I do. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I growl. "Fine,” I concede. "He can go."
"Alright!" my Dad cheers. "Thank you so much, sweetie."
"You're welcome," I reply flatly.
"We love you, darling. Give Max kisses from us, and tell him we’re going to come get him Friday afternoon," Mom chirps into the phone. Damn them. They knew I would give in.
"Love you too. Night." Ending the call, I toss my phone to the ground and take off running for Max. He catches sight of me out of the corner of his eye and squeals loudly as he takes off in the opposite direction. Halfway around the house, he turns and starts chasing me. We run around for several minutes before I let him tackle me to the ground. His laughter fills the air and joy fills my heart.
"I love you, Captain Hook." I nuzzle my nose into his neck and he laughs at the contact, scrunching up his shoulders.
We finally make our way inside after the sun goes down. I give Max a bath and let him watch a show before tucking him into bed for the night. Now is when I get busy. Call me crazy, but I don't like to do housework when I'm home with Max. I'd rather spend the time with him—everything else can just wait. The drawback is that it leaves me with laundry, dishes, and any other housework to do after he goes to bed, which makes for a long night and an even more exhausting morning.
Flipping on the TV, I start folding a load of laundry. My mind quickly turns to my lunch with Tyson today. When he first texted me, I was terrified. But then I remembered my conversation with Levi and the fact that he and Quinn both thought Tyson was interested in more than friendship. Ultimately, that's what I was thinking about when I walked down to the ER to meet him for lunch.
Initially, I thought they had been right. I noticed him watching me on several different occasions and he even went out of his way to brush up against me, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Tyson is ruggedly handsome with his light brown hair, square jaw, and round, chocolate eyes. His gaze alone makes me feel vulnerable and sexy in a way I've never felt, and I found myself wanting more.
When Laura sat down, everything changed. She started talking about Max and that alarmed me. I don't want Tyson to learn about Max from someone else. I want him to learn about Max from me, and today I realized just how easy it would be for someone to inadvertently spill the beans. I could tell Tyson's demeanor shifted instantaneously and when he walked away hastily without a glance in my direction, my heart dropped.
I can’t believe he walked away from me—again.
Laura watched me closely after Tyson left, but thankfully she didn't say anything. Meanwhile, I fought back tears while I cleaned up the rest of our mess from lunch. I left right after, knowing she would be able to see the sadness on my face. Knowing Laura, she would try to console me and I'd probably break down and cry. I really didn't want to cry. I can't believe that he said we were just 'two old friends having lunch.' But he's right, that is what we are—and I hate it. I don't want to be just two old friends.
For some reason, I feel the need to make this right. I feel like I need to reach out to him and fix whatever it is I inadvertently broke. Grabbing my phone, I type out a text before I let my nerves get the best of me.
Me: I'm sorry we were interrupted at lunch today. I really enjoyed spending time with you.
Hitting ‘send,’ I toss my phone off to the side so that I won't sit and watch it. My pulse is racing, and my nerves feel like they’re itching to get out. My phone dings almost instantly and I grab it frantically.
