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“Is this why you didn’t want to talk to me the last few nights that I called?”
Her silence is my answer.
“Hop in the truck. Let’s get home where we can talk in private.”
Once on the road, Cole fills the uncomfortable silence by filling me in on their first day of camp. Both are attending a S.T.E.A.M camp two days a week. Obviously, Cole is riding a high, while Maya is stewing over whatever Connie told her.
“Dad, what’s that smell?” Cole jumps from one subject to the next.
“Got you guys something special.” I pass the box of baked goods to them. Before I left the bakery this afternoon, Darby handed me the box with a small smile. She didn’t say anything, but I knew they were for my kids.
“There are a few special truffles in there that your mom picked up for your teachers. She said her boss loved them, so I thought we should try.”
It’s underhanded, but mentioning their mom in a non-confrontational way will hopefully ease some of the tension fuming from Maya. I watch in the rearview mirror as she peeks in the box Cole has opened and pokes around until she finds a truffle. Her blue eyes bulge when she takes her first bite, and I think this is a good sign.
Maya goes straight to her room when we get home, and Cole helps me unload the groceries. He sits on a stool, watching me put things away and studying me.
“Got something on your mind?” I hand him a water and open one for myself.
“Your girlfriend is pretty.”
“Thanks. I think so, too. When did you see her?”
“On Mom’s computer.”
“Did your mom tell you she was my girlfriend?”
“Not me. She told Maya when she thought I wasn’t around. I saw the way you were holding her waist and standing close to her. I figured she was your girlfriend.”
I nod and decide to get this conversation started. “Maya! Come down here. And bring your phone.”
She stomps down the stairs, making an entrance and glowering at me as she takes the stool next to Cole.
“We need to talk.”
Cole, being Cole, leans forward, ready to listen. Maya huffs out a breath and makes a gurgling noise from the back of her throat. I slice my eyes to her, lay my hands flat on the counter, and pin her with a hard glare. Slowly, the defiance starts to fade when she realizes her attitude is not going to work.
“I have met someone. Actually, that’s not true. A woman I used to date has returned to town, and we’ve reconnected. This week, I traveled with her on a business trip.”
“So, you don’t deny you were with her?” Maya sneers.
“Why would I deny it?”
“Why didn’t you tell us you were running off with some floozy?”
At the word floozy, a haze covers my eyes, and the image of Connie spouting this shit to my kids fills my head. It’s all I can do to hold down the growl rumbling in my chest. “Where did you learn the term floozy?”
“Mom said it’s a woman that is vulgar and disrespectful.”
“Is that right? Well, from where I’m standing, you’re being pretty damn vulgar and disrespectful to me. Does that make you a floozy?”
The color drains from her face, and her eyes pool with tears.
“Just so you know, that definition isn’t entirely accurate. In a few years, I’ll explain what a floozy is, and your mother should have more sense than that. But for your information, if anyone ever calls you a floozy, they will answer to me.”
“Whatever. You still ran off with her.” The attitude snaps back into place.
“The only reason I went was because it was your week with your mother, and it wouldn’t affect my time with you.”
“Yeah, right. Mom says—”
“Shut it, Maya. Let Dad talk.” Cole snaps his head to her, and I see exactly why people say we’re just alike.
“You shut it, little butt-kissing jerk of a—”
“STOP!” I roar, both of them cringing back. “Who the hell taught you to talk like that? Especially to your brother? I sure as hell didn’t.”
“It’s not a big deal. It happens all the time,” Cole mumbles.
“Not anymore. Don’t let it happen again.”
“Like you care. Mom says you are leaving us to go to live with your floo—” She stops herself.
“Your mom is wrong, and she’s telling you things that should be discussed between adults.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“You’re my baby.”
She holds on to her anger, squaring her thin frame and facing me. “Fine, Dad, tell us about your girlfriend. Explain to us why you flew across the country to be with her, leaving us, and then made a fool of our family by making out with her all over social media.”
At this point, my hand comes down hard on the counter, the slap echoing through the kitchen. “Give me your phone now,” I demand.
