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It’s the only logical solution. And the only way I can do that is to put a ring on Jen’s finger and a baby in her belly.
Which has kind of been my plan all along…but I guess now I’m just seeing things from a different angle, which makes it even clearer.
“How much is your diner job worth?” I ask, making Jen shift uncomfortably.
“C’mon,” I coax her, smiling to make it less embarrassing for her. “How much?”
She tells me her average figure income per week, and I almost have to pull over. It makes me feel so sick.
I could say a thousand different things in reply, but the look on Jen’s face is enough.
“Well. You won’t be doingthatanymore,” I assure her in a firm tone. “And that much money plus whatever she needs can be going to your mom from now on,” I add.
Not realizing how insulting it might sound.
“I don’t think my mom would see it that way, somehow,” Jen cringes. “Unless you wanna just drive over there now and explain our littlesituationto her while you open your wallet?” she adds with some sarcasm.
But I shoot Jen a look that tells her maybe I will, which sees her change her attitude pretty quick.
“Can we not argue about it?” she sighs, pleading with me to forget about it, to just try to enjoy ourselves now that we’re alone.
But I can’t just let it go in my mind or anywhere else.
I shrug it off for Jen’s benefit for now. But I vow to myself that neither Jen nor her mom is ever going to want for anything again if I have anything to do with it.
Plus, Jen’s right. No point in letting some facts of life overshadow our time together.
And I’m quick to let her know I’m not the arguing kind.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat?” I ask. Changing the subject as we pass a different kind of diner.
The drive-thru variety.
It’s poor timing, really, considering what we were just talking about, but dammit. I’m hungry again.
“We just ate like a couple of hours ago,” Jen groans, glancing up at me with a questioning look.
“I know. And now I’m hungry again,” I explain with a chuckle as my belly rumbles. Pulling off so I can join the queue while Jen decides if she’s in or not.
But it’s pretty clear she’s still thinking about everything else I’ve just brought up.
Wanting food right after some disturbing conversation is maybe like rubbing salt on an open wound, but I can’t help it if I’m hungry again.
“I’m sorry I brought up the diner thing, okay?” I finally tell her after we inch forward in the line just a little.
“Now, please tell me what you wanna eat, so I don’t feel like more of an idiot if I have to eat in front of you while you go without,” I add, feeling my good humor evaporating.
This is why I need to eat. I can get unreasonably grumpy if my blood sugar gets too low.
Jen looks sheepish a minute before a coy smile plays on her lips.
Her eyes shift to the menu outside while she shields her eyes from the sun to study it.
“I guess some ice cream would be nice. Oh! And they have those little cheeseburgers too.”
I give a low grunt of satisfaction.
Because the equation really is this simple. If Jen’s happy, then I’m happy.
