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“Okay.” I let out a deep sigh and try to focus on the laundry.
If I were being completely honest, I still have feelings for Adam—obviously; otherwise, I wouldn’t be wishing I were the one being carried around the living room right now.
But honesty, interestingly, isn’t the best policy. Not when you’re a mom.
Everyone thinks moms are pure, guileless angels, but I’ve lied more since becoming a parent than I ever did in my previous life.
I lie about not having any chocolates in the house. I lie about Santa Claus being the one who leaves presents under the Christmas tree. I lie about losing the noisy toy gun that made this loud, obnoxious pew-pew sound whenever William pulled the trigger (and he pulled the shit out of that trigger).
So why shouldn’t I lie about my feelings for Adam?
Things are going well now. There’s no need to change anything and risk ruining everything.
That’s why I’m concerned about the party and even more concerned about the after-party. We didn’t have any of those last year. Why change now?
Will I have to remember Adam’s birthday, too? Will I have to plan a celebration for him, as well? Is he going to keep doing this every year? What happens if I find a boyfriend, or he finds a girlfriend?
My heart clenches at the thought of sitting home alone in the dark next year, cake-less and Adam-less because Adam’s busy screwing his gorgeous, new girl.
I’ve been trying. God knows I’ve been trying. But I can’t help caring about the things I shouldn’t care about—like Adam.
Adam
William squeals with glee when Katie lets him blow out the candles. The dining room goes dark as the flames turn into smoke that dissipates into the air.
Sawyer turns the light back on, making everybody squint. My mom, ever the matriarch, approaches the table to help cut and distribute the cake slices.
“Remember what I taught you?” I squeeze William’s little shoulder from behind.
William looks over his shoulder at me and gives me a nod that’s so solemn and dramatic I almost burst out laughing. But that would ruin the cute little surprise I trained William for.
“Happy birthday, Mommy,” William says. He reaches up to Katie’s face and gives her a peck on the cheek.
Katie’s beautiful face breaks out into a big smile. That smile is worth all the hours of prep-work I put in to get William to do it right.
“Thank you, William.” She wraps her arms around William and plants a kiss on his head.
“Aww . . . That’s precious.” My mom holds a hand over her heart.
Sawyer clears his throat, and I turn to stare at him just as he asks, “William, Mommy seems to like being kissed. Don’t you think other people should kiss her, too? Like Adam, for example?”
“Yes!” William answers eagerly. He points his tiny finger at me. “Adam!”
I glare at Sawyer, but he just grins back at me.
Katie says, “William, I don’t think—”
“Where should Adam kiss Mommy, William?” Sawyer asks. “Should he kiss her on the cheek? Or . . . on the lips?”
“On the lips!” William says.
“On the lips. On the lips. On the lips,” Sawyer chants. He laughs when William joins him, oblivious to my death glare.
I’m not happy Sawyer’s teaching William to cut people off in the middle of their sentences, but also, he’s not helping.
I have my own plans tonight.
“William, Grandma’s got some cake for you.” I point to the plate my mom’s holding, hoping the sugary treat will distract him.
“Cake!”
Thank god for the gullibility of small children.
I do hope I’m going to kiss Katie tonight, but not like this.
While Katie’s putting William to sleep in his room, I call a few numbers and get things rolling.
Sawyer’s already driving my mom home, and William’s probably about to be asleep soon.
Then, it’ll just be me and Katie. A rare private moment, all to ourselves.
I have to be stealthy because she’s so adamant on keeping our relationship strictly business, even though I know she wants the same thing I do.
Hell, judging by the way William grabs onto me every night before letting me go home, he probably wants the same thing, too.
So, if all three of us want to be a family, why don’t we just go ahead and do that?
That’s the question that’s taken root in my brain and refuses to leave me alone, and I know the answer. It’s simple, but not necessarily easy.
I have to convince Katie it’s a good idea to take another chance on me.
Maybe it’s silly to do something so cheesy for a sensible, practical, realistic woman like Katie.
Still, as I watch people in uniform flitting back and forth between the backyard and the cars parked out front, something tells me she’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.
There’s no way she doesn’t at least think it’s nice. The backyard looks fucking magical.
