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“So are you,” I counter. I take a deep breath and bury the emotions threatening to escape.
“Dexter and I have a date tonight, so I’m waiting for him to finish up with a photo shoot.” She walks into my office, studying me with a frown, and plops into the chair on the other side of my desk.
“Date? What’s that like?” I ask, a sarcastic laugh bubbling up from my throat.
“Cat.” Her tone is laced with disappointment. Or maybe it’s pity. Either way, it has the tears escaping.
“How do you do it, Soph?”
“Do what?” She tilts her head in question.
“Balance everything. Work, motherhood, marriage.” I choke on a sob. “You’ve got four kids. I only have one, and I feel like I’m drowning. I’m failing her. And Jay.”
Sophie rushes over and kneels beside my chair. “You aren’t failing them. And I don’t have it all together. I schedule kinky sex with my husband. I rely on fast food far too often, and at least twice a week, I hide in the bathtub with a glass of wine while my kids scream for me.”
“What?” I ask, my jaw slack. “Aren’t you happy? I thought you were happy.”
Sophie’s smile is soft. “Of course I’m happy, but this is life.”
“But why don’t you ever talk about it? We should talk about it. I’m floundering and riddled with guilt. I feel awful because I have everything I ever wanted. Jay and I are together. Likereallytogether. Chloe lives with us, and we have the family I’ve always dreamed of, and I just…shouldn’t I be…I don’t know, happier? Like I’m getting everything my mom didn’t. Shouldn’t it be enough?”
My throat burns as tears roll down my face.
“Breakfast for dinner,” Sophie mutters.
“What?”
She clasps her hands in her lap. “Breakfast for dinner. It’s my secret weapon.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I’m overwhelmed and feeling like a failure and need a small win to keep me going, we have breakfast for dinner. And it’s like magic. Everyone smiles, and it changes the mood instantly. The kids think it’s a special day, even though I’m at my worst.”
“Breakfast for dinner,” I mutter, “Fucking brilliant.”
She smiles and stands. “Stick with me, kid. I’ve done this four times. But we’re both still in it, and the battle never really ends. The men are great and all, and the orgasms are fantastic, but it’s okay to vent when you’re having a bad day. That’s what I’m here for.”
* * *
I’m notthe least bit surprised when I walk into the spotless kitchen. There’s a plate of food on the stove for me, and from the stillness of the house, I have no doubt Chloe is already asleep.
While I’m struggling with this parenting thing, Jay makes it look easy. Which leaves me irrationally annoyed.
Why is he so good at this?
When I step into the bathroom, I let out a sarcastic “Ha!” at the sight of his dirty boxers on the floor next to the laundry bin. I pick them up and toss them in, all the while cackling like I’ve lost my mind. “See, not so perfect now, is he?”
Feeling validated, I storm back into the kitchen, now donning my sweats, and warm up my food, then I take it into the dining room and settle at the table.
From the living room, Jay shouts, “You going to come say hello?”
I let out another haughty laugh and squint at him as I take a bite of my reheated pasta.
Without looking up, he says, “Why do I feel your dragon eyes on me? I swear I can feel the fire you’re breathing.”
“That’s the third outfit you’ve worn today.”
He finally looks up, then he slowly stands and shuffles over to me. With a peck to my forehead, he takes the seat beside me and rests his elbows on the table. “What?”
