“Jeez, Pip, shut up, will you? Auden muttered and ended on, “Sick.”
She looked to her brother. “You weren’t there. This slimy guy was hitting on Mom and he swooped in and got in his face. It wasn’t sick. He’s old but he’s hot and that definitely was hot. And he wouldn’t even let Mom put her groceries in the car, that’s how into her he is. And he practically got in a smackdown with that slimy dude when he tried to put Mom’s groceries in her car.” She drew in a deep breath and shared, “And he was the one who saw Dad shouting at Mom.”
Clearly, my girl had been on the sidewalk a whole lot longer than I suspected.
Auden’s eyes cut to me. “Did this guy see Dad shouting at you?”
“He kind of…saved me,” I told them.
Auden’s eyes went stormy. “Saved you?”
“Your father was emotional,” I thought it safe to say.
Auden’s jaw went hard again and his eyes sliced to the wall of windows.
“So!” I said loudly, deciding that although I was beside myself with delight my children were talking to me, this particular conversation needed to come to an end. “Here we are. Your mom is moving on, dating, the house is getting shaped up and we’re spending time together. Now, it’d be great if you’d dump your things, get settled, take some time to make a list of stuff we need to go out and buy tomorrow, then later, we’ll have dinner and watch a movie.”
They both stared at me.
“You can do that now,” I prompted. “I’m going to finish these cookies.”
Auden looked me up and down and asked, “Are you going to eat some cookies?”
I really, really hoped that question meant my boy was worried about me. I didn’t actually want him worried, but I thought it said good things that he’d feel anything.
“Yes, baby,” I answered gently.
His jaw went so hard at that, a muscle jumped in his cheek.
Then, without a word, he prowled across the space to the hall.
“Did you dump my new comforter?” Pippa asked and her voice had an edge of ugly but there was something else there that was reminiscent of my little Pippa.
“No, Pippa, you didn’t put your other stuff back in your room so I got rid of your old stuff.” I tipped my head to the side. “I hope that’s what you wanted.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, turning away. “It wasn’t that ugly.”
She liked it, my stubborn baby girl who was perhaps too much like me.
I grinned at the cookies.
My children spent time settling.
Then they actually did as I asked and made lists.
We had dinner.
We watched a movie lounged in front of the TV (and they ate cookies!).
We went out the next day and spent the entire day shopping (neither of my children was averse to either of their parents dropping a load of cash on them, one thing that hadn’t changed), after which we had dinner out and went to see a movie.
And Auden drove as I sat beside him, Pippa in the back seat, and we went to the furniture place. I fell in love with two lounge chairs I bought on the spot (and could tell, even though neither said much, though Pippa mumbled, “They’re pretty cool,” that my kids liked them too) and paid a fortune for shipping.
We stopped for lunch on the way to, and after we drove back, they went home to their father’s.
Through this, they were not affectionate. They were not chatty. They sometimes were surly, but that was thankfully rare. Mostly they were indifferent or acted like they were putting up with me.
But they gave me the whole weekend.
And they spoke to me.
So I’d take that.
Oh, yes, I’d take it.
Absolutely.
Chapter Eleven
Want More
A couple of days after my children left, I was rushing to get ready for my date with Bradley.
It was our third.
And it was not working.
Yes, he was good-looking. Yes, he was interesting. Yes, he was interested in me.
But what I was trying not to admit to myself, and failing, was that he wasn’t Mickey.
He wasn’t so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. He didn’t make me feel so hard I lost sight of everything, even if with Mickey, much of what I felt with him was angry.
Mickey was not an option for me. He didn’t find me attractive. I knew that.
And he’d still ruined me.
Also, who actually did make people call them Bradley?
That reminded me of my father, who persisted in calling my brother Lawrence, when my brother hated that and everyone, even my mother, called him Lawr and he allowed me (and my kids) to call him Lawrie.
So I was going to have to end it with Bradley, something I had no clue how to do because that, too, was something I hadn’t done in decades.
Fortunately, in all the time he’d been gone, Boston Stone had only called twice, and one time I had been working at Dove House so he left me a message (that I didn’t return), and the other time I’d been having lunch with Ruth and Dela so it was rude to talk to him, except briefly.
In that brief time he’d told me he was coming home imminently, so I’d have to deal with him too.
I could have worse problems, I knew, having a husband who’d ended it with me. Being on the other side of that was always the wrong side to be.
So I had to be a grownup and get on with it.
I was digging through my makeup tray trying to find the lipstick I was looking for when my phone on the bathroom counter rang.
I looked to it and my heart stopped beating.
It was Conrad.
He’d never phone unless something was wrong with the kids.
I snatched it up, sucking in breath, took the call and put the phone to my ear.
“Conrad?”
“I’ll thank you to phone your brother and tell him to stop badgering me.”
I shot straight and looked unseeing into the mirror.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“He’s phoned twice, laying into me about turning my children against you, and I’ll not have it, Amelia.”
“Our children, Conrad.”
“What?” he clipped.
“Our children,” I repeated. “And if Lawrie’s calling you and you don’t want to hear from him, don’t answer the phone.”
“If this is your latest tactic—”
“Right,” I cut him off. “We’re not doing this,” I declared firmly. “I had no idea Lawrie was calling you but he’s a big boy. He does what he does. I can’t control him. I’ll phone him to ask him to stop. If he doesn’t, you be a big boy and don’t take his calls. Problem solved. What I won’t do is have you blaming me for something I didn’t do. And, I’ll ask, since I didn’t do it, that you don’t bitch to our children about their uncle badgering you when calling twice is hardly badgering, and doing that bitching blaming that on me. Truly, Conrad, with all that’s happening, you should man up and not complain to our children about the situation you created.”