Page 83 of Cockpit
But I let it affect me even more, along with Luke’s giggles, as we play chocolate chip cookie warfare—a game we made up as we sit under the shady elm on the outskirts of the playground at his school. My cheeks hurt from laughing, and I know for a fact a little piece of my heart has been lost to Luke.
“Luke. Man. Come play.”
Luke angles his head over to his friend—a cute little guy with red hair and the most adorable freckles across his nose and cheeks. “Sorry, Jim, I’m busy with my friend.”
“You sure? We’re in an epic battle over here.” He points to the handball court.
Luke nods and smiles. “Yep.”
“You don’t have to entertain me, buddy. I’m just enjoying the sunshine. Go. Play. I want to watch.”
“You want to watch?” His eyes light up just like his smile.
“Of course, I do.” He gives me one last look for reassurance before he runs off, and I call out to him, “Good luck.”
So I watch. Battle after battle of handball with rules I don’t know. I’m cognizant of some of the other moms peering at me from behind their sunglasses. Betsy does her best to introduce me to everyone who comes over. I know most of them are here to satiate their curiosity as they ask me benign questions that seem simple on the surface but are really searching for more.
But it’s okay.
The sunshine and laughter and a huge grin on Luke’s face make the chocolate chip cookies I’m going to have to exercise off and the dirt I have to clean off my heels worth it ten times over.
A fist banging on the door shatters the quiet of the house and scares the hell out of me. At first, I freeze, but the sound is so threatening that it has me quickly back-stepping into my kitchen and out of the line of sight from the front windows.
“Open up, Sidney.”
Grayson?
My heart leaps into my throat and then lands with a confused thud over being excited to see him and at the same time knowing something is wrong.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I open the door. The minute I catch sight of his expression—a mask of fury—I wish I had pretended I wasn’t home.
Without a word, he barrels past me. “Shut the door.”
“Grayson? What is—?”
“You!” he shouts as he turns around and jabs a finger in my direction. “You are what’s wrong.”
“I—uh . . . what?”
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Letting you into my house so you can yell at me when I obviously shouldn’t have. Can we back up here, so you can tell me what’s going on?”
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares at me. “You went to the mother-son picnic with Luke. Are you out of your mind?”
I stare at him—his fury unmasked—and know without a doubt I made a huge mistake. It takes a few seconds for my thoughts to line up so I sound coherent. “It isn’t what you think.”
“What I think?” His laugh is cold and unwelcome. “What exactly is it that you think I’m thinking?”
A million things flash through my mind and unfortunately, all of them spill out in a tangled mess. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t even know it was a mother-son picnic. I wasn’t trying to manipulate the situation to fuel more rumors. I wasn’t trying to get in good with Luke. I wasn’t trying to . . .” My words fade off as he just stands there and stares at me with hard eyes and mouth a straight line. “They stopped by the office and asked me to come. He was so sweet asking me on a date. I told him I’d go with him as a friend. That’s it. I met your mom,” I ramble as I twist my fingers together. “She was sweet, too. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Of course, you didn’t think it was a big deal.” His voice escalates in pitch with each word. “After everything I’ve said to you. How could you go with him without asking me first—”
“Your mom said it wasn’t a big deal. That you were at work and—”
“And my mom isn’t raising my son. I am.”
“Grayson—”
