Page 34 of First-Time Caller
“And yet you’re trying to talk about oil changes? I want to talk about the radio station.”
“You’re still mad.” I sigh.
“I’m not mad,” Grayson fires back immediately, sounding mad. He gestures with his spoon and another clump of rice sails across the kitchen. “I’m disappointed.”
Mayaoohsquietly under her breath.
“Don’t use parenting lines on me, Grayson.”
“Don’t have heart-to-hearts with people thatare not me, Lucille.”
We stare at each other. Salsa music plays from the radio near the refrigerator. Maya dutifully resumes her homework at the kitchen island. Sensing the opportunity distraction provides, Mateo pours some chicken broth into the pan.
I don’t want to fight with Grayson. I never want to fight with Grayson. He’s been the one constant in my life. Just because our love didn’t work as a romance doesn’t mean that love disappeared. For a long time, it was just the two of us against the world. He’s used to knowing everything about me. Every thought. Every fear.
And then I unloaded it all on a complete stranger.
“I understand why you’re upset,” I say slowly. Sincerely. “But if you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at our daughter.”
“Hey!” Maya protests.
Grayson’s lips twitch. “Maya and I have already had a discussion about staging coups around your love life.”
Maya nods seriously. “I’m only permitted to do so in groups from here on out. With sign-off and consultation from the dads.”
“Both dads,” Mateo and Grayson say in unison. I stare at Mateo in shock. He doesn’t usually take sides.
“Judas,” I whisper at him.
He shrugs. “I’ve been encouraging you to date for years.”
Maya gives him a thumbs-up. “Both dads. As agreed. No problem.”
I roll my eyes. “Excellent.”
“Don’t cop atone,” Grayson says, still brandishing his spoon as a weapon. Mateo loops his fingers around his wrist and gently guides the utensil back to the pan. But Grayson is too worked up to pretend to cook. He abandons the stove and strides across the kitchen, eating up the space between us. I’m glad to see he’s changed out of hisEAT BERTHA’S MUSSELStee and replaced it with a cozy sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It means he’s probably close to done on his latest project.
He stops approximately six inches away from me and glares, arms crossed over his chest. If he’s trying to be intimidating, he’s falling woefully short.
Behind him, Mateo desperately tries to salvage our dinner.
“I’m going to be mad at you for another three to six months.”
I drag my hand through my hair, suddenly exhausted. “That’s fine. Whatever you want.”
Grayson’s entire face pinches tight. “Don’t you want to know why?”
I fumble blindly for the cheese tray. Only Manchego can save me now. “I know why. I got ooey-gooey with someone and you weren’t there to witness it. I told someone my deep, dark secrets and it wasn’t you.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” he says again. “I’m mad because you’ve been struggling and you didn’t tell me. That’s in direct violation of the pinky promise we made beneath the tire swing, ages four and five, respectively.” He uncrosses his arms and plucks the piece of cheese out of my fingers and shoves it into his mouth. He chews aggressively, glaring at me the entire time. “You’ve been carrying a big hurt around in your heart and I didn’t notice.”
I soften. “I don’t think I knew about the big hurt in my heart,” I tell him quietly. “Not until I started talking.”
He studies me, features relaxing. “I don’t like that you’ve been feeling this way.”
