AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He seems fine now.” And just to prove my point, he sighs and his eyes close. “See? He’s going to sleep. You, on the other hand, Princess, are not fine.”
“But—”
“Bloody hell, Avery, you smell disgusting, and you look even worse. The baby and I will be okay. If anything happens while you’re cleaning all of that off of you,” I use my free hand to gesture to the upper half of her body, “I’ll come and get you. And by that, I mean, I’ll knock on the door.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, her eyes flicking between Mason and me before she finally nods. “I’ll be right back.” And then she touches her hair and seems to realize the extent of the damage because she gasps. “Oh my God, it’s in my hair.”
“Among other places.” I laugh at her retreating back and add, “Make sure you scrub your neck really well.”
She screeches again, which is quickly followed by the sound of the shower.
“Good job, little man. You got Mommy pretty good,” I whisper against his brown curls, and can’t help but be a little cautious as he grabs a fistful of my shirt and kicks his legs. “Let’s put you to sleep.”
Swiping my phone open, I pull up Spotify and shuffle my favorite list, turning the volume down and setting my phone on the back of the couch.
I rub small circles across his back, and as soon asRunaway Trainby Soul Asylum starts to play, I sing along, keeping my voice low and soothing. His fingers loosen and I sway back and forth, careful not to make any abrupt movements.
We don’t even get to the second chorus before his breathing slows and his soft snores fill the room.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Could this night get any more embarrassing? The correct answer is no.
If I had, even for a second, thought my life wasn’t a hot fucking mess, consider myself reminded.
Foster isn’t going to get anywhere near my lips now. Not knowing—and seeing—half my face covered in recycled baby formula.
Not that I want him to try and kiss me again.
Nope. Definitely not that.
Ah, fuck.
This no hockey player rule is harder to maintain than I thought it would be.
As soon as I dry off, I put on a pair of flannel pajama pants and my Hocus Pocus hoodie. At this point I want to be comfortable, and I’m pretty sure Foster doesn’t give two fucks what I’m wearing. I’m sure that almost kiss in the hallway earlier was fueled by leftover adrenaline and had nothing to do with me.
I was in the right place at the right time. Like before.
When I get back out to the living room, Foster has his back to me, swaying toI’ll Beby Edwin McCain and singing along to the lyrics. His voice is low, not the best I’ve ever heard, but it’s perfect just the same.
Suddenly, there’s a lump in my throat, and I’m blinking back the tears.
I’m not always an emotional person, but this right here wrecks a piece of me.
Mason won’t have a dad to sing him to sleep after a nightmare or to look for monsters under his bed. To teach him how to throw a baseball or hold his hand through the difficult times in life and let him know that no matter what, he’ll always be loved.
Sure, I’ll be here to do all that, but having one parent isn’t the same as having two. There will always be something missing, and no matter how hard I try to be both parents, it’s impossible.
I knew I’d be raising him alone. I knew it the moment Ron told me totake care of itlike the jerk he is, but it never really sank in. Not until now. Yeah, being a single mom is tough, I know this, but it’s not about me. It’s about that innocent little boy who will always wonder where his father is. What he did wrong. Why he wasn’t worthy of his unconditional love.
“Avery?”
I’d been so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t see Foster turn around. His brows are raised, and he assesses me with a frown. After taking a deep breath, I quickly swipe under my eyes and force a smile. I don’t need him to know how broken I really am.
“Well, thanks for putting him to sleep. Let me get him to bed.” My words are rushed as I practically run across the room to gently transfer him from Foster’s arms to mine.
He tries to catch my eyes, but I keep them on Mason.
