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He didn’t give a flying fuck when I was pregnant with his baby, or moving halfway across the country, or the entire first two months of Mason’s life. I don’t think he even knows what his kid looks like, let alone what his name is.
How sad is that?
There’s no way in hell I’m going to believe he actually wants to apologize to me and genuinely be in his son’s life. If I thought that was the case, I’d bend over backwards to make sure the two of them get to know each other and have a healthy relationship.
Not because I think Ron deserves even one of Mason’s smiles, but because Mason deserves everything, and if having his dad is the best thing for him, then I’m not going to stand in the way.
But there’s no way this is genuine.
No fucking way.
I bet the jackass saw all the Cramington publicity and thought he’d come in like a white knight, pretending to be the most loving father ever, to regain the status he lost after Rhett and I exposed him to the media last season. He wants to save face. Restore his good name. And I’m sure his team’s PR agent is putting pressure on him to clean up his mess.
I’d bet any money on it.
Instead of messaging him back, I pull up a text thread with my brothers. They need to hear about this from me, not anyone else, and maybe they’ll have some advice. If anything, it’ll be nice to know they have my back.
Me: I have a problem.
Sunshine: What’s his name and where does he live?
Grumpy: I know who he is, and I’ll be seeing him in about thirty minutes. I’ll take care of it.
Me: Foster isn’t the problem. Calm your tits, Remington.
Sunshine: Yeah, calm your tits, Remington.
Grumpy: She could have meant you.
Me: But I didn’t and you know it.
Sunshine: Also, what’s the deal with this Foster guy? I’ve been seeing you two all over social media, and he doesn’t seem like the most committed person ever. I thought we were done with these meathead hockey players.
Grumpy: You mean he’s a man whore and you’re too nice to call a spade a spade. I don’t approve and I think he’s a twat, but I’m letting Avery make her own mistakes.
Me: Thanks for that.
Grumpy: And better a meathead hockey player than a pansy ass football player.
Sunshine: I’ll show you my pansy ass.
Me: We’re getting sidetracked, guys. Ron texted me.
Sunshine: Cooper?
Grumpy: How many Rons do you know that cause problems?
Sunshine: You’d be surprised.
Grumpy: What did he want?
Me: He wants to talk. I haven’t responded yet. I’m sure he wants to use my new publicity with Foster to make himself look like dad of the year without doing any of the work.
Sunshine: I heard the team has threatened him with suspension. He’s not been behaving the best since everything came out.
Grumpy: They have.
Me: Didn’t think to tell me?
