Shame on You

“Perfectly,” I reply with a big smile on my face. “Go get your sister—your father wants to spend the day with you guys.”


Meadow’s face immediately loses the preteen irritation and she looks at Alex hopefully. “Can we go to the mall?!”

Alex looks back and forth between Meadow and me uncomfortably and stutters his response. “Uh…um…well…”

“Your dad would LOVE to take you to the mall!” I say in an excited voice.

Let him deal with her attitude when she wants to shop at Sluts “R” Us and he vetoes it. At least he better veto it. Considering whom he’s dating, he probably has a frequent-shopper card for every whorish store in the mall.

Meadow turns and runs excitedly down the hall, yelling for Livia and leaves me alone with Alex again.

“So, how have you been? Are you seeing anyone?” Alex asks.

Geez, nothing like getting right to the point.

“Oh, you know…” I trail off with a shrug.

DOES he know? Did Chloe fill him in on all the details? The way Griffin only had eyes for me, his hand on my ass, how tightly he held me against him, the slow way he worked me over with his lips and tongue?

Jesus, it’s hot in here.

“Chloe said she saw you at the bar last night with her girlfriends.”

Shit. He knows. Am I happy he knows? Maybe he’s jealous. Good. This asshole needs to be jealous. He needs to be burning with rage that I made out with his ex—best friend.

“Oh, that’s right! I totally forgot we ran into her.”

Lies, lies, lies.

Come on, ask me about Griffin. Ask me about kissing him so I can rub it in your stupid face.

“She said you guys had a good time together.”

What the fuck? The only good time had by the two of us would be in a boxing ring.

“I’m really glad you can be the bigger person, Kennedy. I don’t know if I would be able to do the same thing if I were in your shoes,” he tells me.

You ARE in my shoes, you asshole! I kissed Griffin! Just admit that you know and that you hate it!

“DADDY!” Livia comes running into the living room and throws herself in his arms.

“Hi, princess! I’ve missed you so much,” he tells her as she wraps her legs around him and he holds her in his arms.

“Are you taking us to the mall? Can we go to Claire’s so I can buy some new earrings and bracelets and then go to the pet shop so I can cuddle the puppies?” she asks sweetly.

Alex and I both stare at her in confusion for a few minutes before she laughs at both of us.

“Just kidding! I want to go to the sporting goods store and check out the new crossbows they just got in,” she informs him as he leans over and sets her down on her feet.

“Okay, I’m ready to go,” Meadow states as she joins us in the living room. She’s removed all of her winter wear and put my Seven jeans back on, but at least she’s now wearing a shirt that actually covers her body. And decided to add a thick protective layer of makeup.

“Uh, is she allowed to wear makeup?” Alex asks me.

“Good luck with that,” I tell him as I lean over and kiss each of the girls good-bye. I’ve had to parent them on my own for months now. It’s his turn.

As soon as they are out the door, I grab my pot of Buffalo Wing Dip and take it out to my car, securing it in the backseat before pulling out and heading to my father’s house. When I reach his cul-de-sac, my annoyance over the fact that Alex never once mentioned what happened between Griffin and me last night disappears. The street has been blocked off and is filled with my father’s neighbors, all wearing the signature blue-and-gold colors of Notre Dame. I’m pretty sure when they bought this house when my mom was pregnant with Ted, they made it a requirement of the Realtor to find them a house in Notre Dame territory. In the street there are picnic tables, cafeteria tables, and chairs, and enough food to feed an army. Or a herd of football fans. As I slowly pull into my father’s driveway, I see that he and my brothers have brought out his big-screen television and set it in the front yard with an extension cord. Today is going to be a good day.

Grabbing the Crock-Pot from the backseat, I make my way down the driveway and over to one of the tables where I see my father, Aunt Janet, and Uncle Wally.

“Is that Buffalo Wing Dip? It better be Buffalo Wing Dip,” Dad tells me as he eyes the Crock-Pot in the crook of my arm.

I haven’t spoken to my dad since I found out Griffin is the guy he hired, and refusing him his favorite football game snack is a good way to tell him I’m pissed at him about it. I set the Crock-Pot down at the far end of the table, out of his reach.

“Did you put in an extra cup of cheddar cheese?” he asks, staring at the Crock-Pot instead of me.

“I put in two extra cups of cheddar cheese. But you’re not getting any of it,” I threaten.

“Awwwww, come on, Kennedy. I’m an old man. Don’t deny me my Buffalo Wing Dip,” he complains, licking his lips as he watches Uncle Wally lift the lid and take a big whiff.

“Put that lid back on, Uncle Wally,” I scold, not taking my eyes off my father.