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“Weird is good,” Dante speaks up in his defense. “Weirdo means you won’t ever be boring.”
This he’s just learned, no doubt from the man whose mouth is lifting at the stove.
“Yes, it is, I was paying your fa-” Troy’s eyes widen, and his smile blinds me. I’m so flustered I’ve almost outed him myself.
“It was a compliment.”
Dante tilts his head. “Are you okay, Mommy?”
“I’m fine, I would just prefer pancakes!”
“Not what I read,” Troy mumbles.
I can feel the blush creep up my neck. I’ve hit my limit. “Troy, a word.”
“Sorry,” he holds up the spatula, “I’m mid flip, don’t want to burn anything.”
I nod and swallow as two sets of eyes study me.
Get it together. Get it together.
“Mommy, you need a chill pill,” Dante says through a laugh.
“Where did you learn that?” I look up to Troy, who shrugs.
“Don’t look at me.”
“We don’t take pills to chill around here, young man. You got that?!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Troy ushers me into the seat next to him. “Have a seat,” he says, gently sitting me down. “I’ll make you some breakfast too.”
It’s clear both men think I’m on the verge of snapping, so I do what I’m told as Dante places a napkin across my lap. “It’s okay, Mommy, just relax.”
Dante stands on his seat, grabbing the carton and pours me some orange juice. After taking a sip, I glance over at him as Troy busies himsel
f at the stove.
“I’m sorry you had a bad time.”
“It’s okay. Troy made it all better.”
I don’t miss Troy’s smile as he plates up our breakfast.
Dante crosses his silverware on his plate. “May I be excused? I’m full.”
“Only one game,” Troy says, “We’re leaving soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
I sip my coffee and eye Troy. “Where will you take him?”
“Camping at the lake. That okay?”
“Sure.”
With all the commotion this morning, I didn’t have time to drink him in. He’s dressed in a grey long john shirt that hugs his every muscle and somehow makes his eyes pop. His strawberry hair is getting longer, has more wave, and is brushed away from his face. His jaw covered in day-old stubble. He looks every part the rugged man. And I’m pretty sure I look every part the ragged woman. But none of that matters as I fight with my conscience about the events of the last twenty-four hours.
