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Honestly, I’d rather take a cheese grater to the nips than spend any more time than absolutely necessary with the Real Housewives of Sun Valley but how can I deny that adorable face? Those sweet sage eyes land on me and I forget the word ‘no.’ “Of course, I am, Goose.”
August’s smile kicks up a notch, so delighted by my agreement, he forgives the silly nickname. He nudges me again, his favorite form of affection these days. “And my game on Saturday?”
My game, he says, like he’s already made the team. My cocky little shit. I love him. “Obviously.” Quickly shoving my sister’s lunch in the fridge—Willow’s letting us stay in her tiny apartment free of charge, the least I can do is fix her a sandwich—I hit my kid with a careful smile. “Maybe your dad will come too.”
Just like that, his mood sours. Pale brows pinch together, slim shoulders thump, a frustrated gaze drops. “Probably not.”
Yeah, I hate that I have to silently admit.Probably not.“Have you talked to him about this weekend?”
August scuffs his feet against the fancy tiled floor. “John said he’ll pick me up after school on Friday.”
John. Lord. I might not exactly reserve any warm and fuzzy feelings for August’s father, but that hurts even me.
“Do I have to go?”
“You know you don’t.” It’ll be a pain in my ass if he doesn’t but I’d never force him. I can hardly blame the kid for not wanting to spend time with a man who spent over half his life denying his existence.
Frowning way harder than an eleven-year-old should ever need to, August sighs. “He probably won’t show up anyway.”
Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so very true.
It’s times like these I wonder how Jonathan Shay ever charmed his way into my pants. Sure, he was handsome and older and had that kind of rugged, bad boy thing going on but did those things really overshadow the raging asshole beneath? Or was he just an ace at hiding it? Or was I rocking the whole lovesick teenager thing so hard, I just didn’t see it? Surely, there was something that let on to what he really was, what he would turn into.
An absent, lying, self-serving jackass who turns up once in a blue moon and always only when it suits him.
He was livid when he found out about the move. Not because of the move itself. Not because of the distance. It was me doing it without his permission that pissed him off. Because I'dtoldrather thanasked. Because us being states apart meant August and I were out of his life on our terms, not his.
You can’t just steal him away from me,he’d screamed in my face, hurt and accusatory and laughably confused. It took all the restraint in the world not to roll my eyes—how could I steal what the bastard never wanted?
Not once in the last eleven years have I ever intentionally kept August from his dad. I never wanted them to have this weird non-relationship. Sometimes, the naive sixteen-year-old who wanted her baby daddy to love her, wanted a normal family so damn much, still rears her head. Makes me agree to things I know I shouldn’t, like giving up one precious weekend a month with my baby.
I should count myself lucky he only wants a measly couple of days but it’s a measly couple of days I’m going to spend stressed out of my mind. Constantly worried about where August is, what he’s doing, if he’s okay.
That is, like August said, if he shows up.
Swallowing a frustrated sigh, I smooth a hand over the soft curls I’ve always been unreasonably jealous of, shaking August’s head until he deigns to look at me. “I love you.”
Eyes the same gray-green as mine go a little squinty, his voice a begrudging mumble as he says, “Love you too.”
I squint right back. “Wholoves me?”
One corner of his mouth tilts upwards even as he rolls his eyes. “Ido.”
I consider it a small miracle, the fact he lets me tug him towards me and drop a kiss to his temple, even leans into me a little. “Today is gonna be a really good day.”
A heavy exhale heaves his not-so-little body along with the words I’ve perfectly trained him to repeat. “Today is gonna be a really good day.”
* * *
Despite the abrupt nature of our move, everything has worked out scarily well.
First, I miraculously secured August a spot in a good school mid-way through the academic year. Then, I somehow managed to score myself a place too; one of their sixth grade teachers went on maternity leave, their sub crapped out, and boom, I got the job. I’m not sure I would’ve if they hadn’t been quite so desperate but hey, I’m not going to complain.
It’s a million times better than the shitty secretary job I originally had lined up. I get to actually use the degree I worked my ass off for. I get better hours. I get to stay close to August all day. All in all, I’ve done pretty damn well, and I’m feeling pretty damn good about everything.
Except today, I’ve hit a snag.
Today, there’s an extra helping of anxiety niggling at me because today is baseball try-outs, and as hard as empty Select spots are to come by—especially for a team as prestigious as Sun Valley’s—actually earning one is even harder. If I’ve learned anything about baseball over the years, it’s that it’s competitive as shit. And expensive as shit. And time consuming as shit. Practice twice a week sounds all fun and games until you factor in the two out-of-town tournaments a month and the catcher practices and the batting practices and, you know, being a functioning fucking person with a well-adjusted, non-sleep-deprived kid.
