Page 17 of Sweet Tooth
One look, and I found myself jolting with it. Those green happy eyes on that cute face, that reddish-brown hair – the cute kid on the screen was hers, alright. But the low brow, the solemn fold of the lips was that of the guy I’d seen her with that night.
“And if you’re wondering about the father, he was a first-class jerk. I don’t have the luxury or the inclination to find a fairy tale. I need to take care of my kid and run my business.”
I stared at her dumbly. The pain of actually seeing the child she’d created with another man hit me like a baseball bat to the gut. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute,” I said, already on the way to the bathroom.
Shit, shit, shit. I needed to get my head screwed on right.
Inside, I stood by the door, willing myself to go back.
I couldn’t fault Jess for moving on when I had been gone for so long. And I couldn’t fault the kid for being born; it hadn’t been his choice. But why did it have to hurt so damn bad? I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head. How could I have been stupid enough to think that she’d just take me back with open arms? That she’d just fall at my feet and weep with joy that I was standing in front of her. What a self-important asshole I was. I walked out of the bathroom, ready to admit that I was wrong about everything and do anything in my power to show her that I still cared about her. That I still wanted to be with her and that her having a kid didn’t scare me. In fact, as I thought about it, a little part of Jess running around was actually kind of cool. A smile on my face, I headed back into the dining room.
A few feet away from our table, I stopped dead in my tracks. It was empty.
Just as I was turning to the bathroom to see if she’d gone as well, my phone dinged a message.
I gave you your one date, now please leave me alone.
I cursed, hurrying outside, though I knew already. She was gone. I’d lost her again.
8
Jessica
“This is for the best,” I told myself, ignoring the unsteady way I said it like a question.
Maybe going on the date had been stupid. Did I really need to see how Zane was now happier, hotter, and more successful to twist the knife in me any farther? And then hearing his gravelly voice, his jokes, that way he looked at me…
At least I’d salvaged the end.
Just how I thought, the whole kid-with-another-man had put a damper on things. It was one thing for guys to put a smile on and pretend it was all hunky-dory, but when they came face to face with it – with my responsibility, which would partially become theirs if things got serious. I knew better. Most guys were the same. Kids were hard enough when they were your own.
Anyway, even if I couldn’t read Zane’s face when he left, what he’d been feeling was obvious. Disappointment. Probably regret.
Maybe he’d had some fairy-tale in his head about us high school sweethearts riding off in the sunset together.
Too bad that this was real life and waiting for him had killed any chance of that happening.
My phone rang, but I ignored it. I didn’t answer phones in the car. Not for my own sake – but for Parker’s. He was the main reason I did anything these days – why I ate Brussel sprouts when all I craved were Cheetos, why I went to the gym a few times a week instead of curling up in front of Downton Abbey.
At the light, I checked the messages. One glance at the name – Zane, and I put the phone down.
I was driving. No need to stress myself out unnecessarily. He was probably just pissed. Or maybe had another one of his excuses.
No matter. I was almost at Tamara’s now. As I pulled up to the gate, I waved at Rodney. The prim older man had long learned not to give my last legs jalopy a quizzical look.
Parker came willingly, though clearly disappointed. Not that I could blame him much. Who in their right mind would want to go home, when it had about a tenth of the toys as Tamara’s, and always seemed the wrong temperature?
As we drove back, we went through the whole routine of me asking about his day and him telling me ‘fine’.
Only once we were inside the house and I’d gotten Parker ready for bed, did he stop me.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Did you have fun with your friend?”
I paused, he didn’t need to know my stress.
“Yes.”
“Good. I had fun with my friend too.”
