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“Well, give him our best.Right, Chase?”
“Wight,” Chase says seriously.
Ben smiles down at our son, holding out his arms.“Come on, bud.We need to hit the store, too, before we head home.Radcliffe’s making basil sausage pasta and we need to get the ingredients.”
“Yay, basil sausage pasta!”Chase starts to jump into Ben’s arms but turns at the last second and holds out his picture.“Here, Mommy.Don’t let Tessa touch it with her fish fingers.”
“I won’t,” I promise seriously.“And it will be in a place of pride on the fridge when we get home tomorrow.See you after school, okay?”I lean down, soaking in every second of the fierce hug my nearly three-year-old bestows upon me.Then he runs to his daddy, Ben scoops him up, and they head outside to where he’s parked in front of the Victorian cottage, I bought to expand the business a little over a year ago.
My business is growing, my son is happy and adjusting to the visitation schedule without a hitch, and all my friends and family are healthy and thriving.
I should be on top of the world.
Instead, I turn to face the product wall as Ben and Chase leave, pretending to count the number of dried split pea soup mixes and fighting tears until I’m sure they’re gone.
This is the way things are now.
They’re never going to change.
The faster I quit pouting and accept the new normal, the better.All I’m doing with this grieving, weeping, hurting shit is causing myself unnecessary pain.
But the heart wants what it wants, and mine has decided it wants to perform a dying swan ballet in my chest, complete with painful thrashing and fluttering, every time I tell my baby boy goodbye.
It sucks, but…it is what it is.
Swiping the tears from my eyes and putting on my “nothing phases this bitch” face, I head back into the kitchen to finish marinating giant tubs of chicken breast.By the time Tessa and I have finished the prep for the local leader summit banquet she’s catering tomorrow, it’s nearly five o’clock.
I wash my hands, cursing as I see the traffic getting hairy outside.“I told Delores I’d be by around four-thirty.Where did the time go?”
Tessa sighs.“It was sucked into the work vortex.It’s similar to the laundry vortex.I have four loads waiting for me at home.Two that need washing and two that need folding.”
I shake my head and toss my apron into the dirty linen basket in the corner.“That’s where you’re living life wrong, woman.We never fold.We just pull clean clothes from the clean basket.Folding is an exercise in futility.Especially with a toddler.”I hold a hand toward her, fingers spread.“I hereby absolve you of folding guilt.Go home and make yourself a yummy dinner and take a load off.You deserve it.”
She laughs.“Thanks, boss.You, too.”She grins as she adds in a sly voice, “After you check on your sexy boy toy, of course.”
I roll my eyes and reach for my coat on the hook by the back door.“He’s not my boy toy.”
“But you liked how I emphasized that you were at the hospital with himall nightwhen Ben was here, right?Show him he’s not the only person moving on.”
I shrug on my coat and reach for the bag full of soup and bread I packed up earlier for the Boudreauxs.“I guess.Not that he’s going to care.”
“He cares,” Tessa says.“All men care when their ex hooks up with someone new.Even if they’ve already moved on.”
“Even if they’ve decided they prefer sausage to tacos?”I mutter beneath my breath, but Tessa has excellent hearing.
“Yes, even then.Though I prefer honey pot to taco.Sounds classier.”
“How about bearded clam?That’s pretty classy.”
Tessa gags.“Ew.You’re nasty.Get out of here, I’ll lock up.”She flaps her hands, shooing me out the door.“Go do good deeds.You owe the world a good deed after letting that foulness emerge from your mouth.”
Laughing, I head outside, piling into my vintage VW bug, Charlotte.Charlotte and I have been through almost every stage of life together.From when I first saved up to buy her in high school, to my culinary school graduation, to my wedding day, and the morning we brought Chase home from the hospital.I love her to the moon and back, even if her heating system does take forever to warm up, ensuring I’m freezing all the way over to Delores’s house.
I’m nearly to the turn off for the subdivision—one I’ve been to a hundred times, since my brother, Barrett, lives right next door to Delores—when my phone starts to bleat.I fumble in my purse.When I see it’s Tessa, I tap the answer button and put her on speakerphone.“What’s up?Are you still traumatized by thoughts of the bearded clam?”
“Ew,” she says again.“Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling.Two of the waitstaff just called in sick for tomorrow.Seth has strep throat and Becca twisted her ankle roller-skating with her niece.”
I curse.“Did you try Greg?”Greg quit last summer to bartend full-time at a hopping spot downtown, but sometimes he’ll fill in for us in a pinch.
