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2
ZAC
Halfway through our shopping trip, I could tell my sister was nearly bursting with the need to ask me about what happened with Layla on the street. Grayson having the time of his life shopping for his favorite food was the only thing that had kept her from grilling me so far, but it looked like her patience was running thin.
“Dad, what about Fruit Roll-Ups?” Grayson asked, pointing at the colorful boxes to the right of the marginally healthier fruit snacks.
“No way. They’ll get stuck in your teeth. These ones are one hundred percent fruit and not as sticky,” I explained, holding up a value pack of Welsh’s snacks. Grayson pouted, but I tossed the blue box in the cart to signal the conversation was over. When I looked up at Jo, she was smirking, and I frowned. “What?”
“Zac, let the kid live a little.”
“He lives alot. I said yes to the Sour Patch Kids, didn’t I?”
“Dad of the Year. Hey, check your phone.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d felt it buzz in my pocket right after she’d put hers away, so I’d had a sneaking suspicion she’d been the one to message me. Pulling it out, I found I was right. But instead of opening it, I put the phone away and shook my head at her.
“Zac, come on, I’m dying here. We have to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t,” I said under my breath, looking pointedly at Grayson as he studied the nutrition facts on the side of a Fruit Roll-Ups box.
“That’s why I texted you.”
I gave her a look and kept my voice low. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“We can’t talk about it later. Do you even know what she thought? She thought I was hismom.” Her words were barely audible, but she’d moved her lips in such an exaggerated way that I still picked up what she was saying.
Sighing, I gave in. “Gray, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Can you go look at the cereal and see which one you want? Make sure you find one with no high-fructose corn syrup. It’s down that way. Stay where I can see you, though, please.”
His eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously, taking off down the aisle. I turned back to Jo, and she cocked her head. “He won’t be able to tell if it has high-fructose corn syrup. He’s six.”
“Do you want a minute to talk or not?”
She chuckled. “Got it.”
“Anyway, I know she thought you were his mom. I was about to introduce you as his aunt when she took off.”
“You still could have. It’s not like she sprinted away with her hands over her ears.”
“What was I supposed to do, yell down the street, ‘Wait, Layla, it’s not what you think. She’s my sister!’”
Jo cracked up, throwing her head back. “Yeah, okay, maybe that would have been awkward.”
“The whole thing was awkward. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell her about Grayson for years, but when she was right in front of me, it was like all the words were gone. I had no idea where to start.”
My stomach clenched as I thought back to the way my heart had skipped a beat the second I saw her. The way my free hand had clenched at my side with the urge to reach for her, as I simultaneously drew strength from my little guy holding the other hand.
Layla was as beautiful today as the last time I saw her three years ago. If not more. Which meant that at that moment, I was way too busy looking at her—and also trying to get my kid to stop making me seem like a crappy dad—to figure out a good way to explain our situation.
“Look, Zac, I know it’s going to be a tough conversation, but you can’t let her think I’m Gray’s mom. She probably thinks you had a wife and kid somewhere else the whole time you were with her.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face, the stubble coating my jaw reminding me that I needed to buy a new razor while I was here. “I know. I know.”
Grayson came back with a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in hand, a proud smile on his small face. “Found it. This is the one I want.”
