My back went straight as I fought a quick retort and instead asked, “How do you know?”
“Dad told us,” Auden answered and my eyes looked to him to see his expression was now carefully blank. “Said we should know in case we see you two in town.”
“And your father called Mickey a Neanderthal?” I queried, my voice thin.
Pippa looked out the window.
Auden shifted but held my gaze and said, “Yeah.”
I fought the itch that was covering every inch of my skin, screaming to get scratched, me doing that meaning I marched to my car, got in it, drove to Conrad’s and shrieked at him for being such a huge…fucking…dick.
But that was the me he made me.
Now I was just me and he was not going to push me into going back.
“Mickey isn’t a Neanderthal,” I told them firmly. “Mickey is a good man who I’ve come to care about quite a bit. I enjoy spending time with him. He feels the same about me. This is something that we both feel is important and we’re both building on that. So since he’s important to me and you’re important to me, I’d like you to meet him.”
“Cool,” Pippa said casually.
I stared at her, shocked at her non-response.
Or, more precisely, her not negative one.
“You should make your pulled barbeque chicken when he comes over. With your homemade coleslaw,” Auden suggested.
I moved my stare to him.
Then I asked, “I…that’s it? Do you have questions? Anything you want to ask me about Mickey?”
“No, why?” Auden asked back.
“It’s about time,” Pip stated before I could answer my son. “You’ve always been pretty and those highlights kick butt. So it’s no surprise you hooked up. And it’s good you have somebody.”
Could it be this easy?
“Pippa, sweets, you should know, it’s that firefighter you saw that day on the street.”
She grinned. “Awesome. He was hot.”
I blinked.
She bent over the computer and commandeered the mouse, saying, “Now, I was looking and I totally dig the whole thing you got going in the other guestroom. I found this bed that was like yin to that yang. From the beach straight to the forest!” she declared and started clicking.
Oh my God.
My daughter had been looking for furniture for the home she shared with me.
And oh my God, my kids didn’t mind that I was dating and wanted them to meet somebody.
I felt something strange and my eyes drifted from my daughter clicking the mouse to my son.
The instant I caught his gaze, he looked away and mumbled, “I approve of everything so don’t bother asking me.”
He then strolled out.
“Look, Mom, here it is! Isn’t this the bomb?” Pippa cried.
I looked at a four-poster bed that looked made of logs.
It was absolutely “the bomb.”
I rolled forward, ordering, “Scooch, kid, let me see.”
Pippa scooched.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d ordered a log bed off the Internet.
Twenty minutes after that, I’d ordered all the linens for that bed.
And an hour after that, my girl sitting on a stool she’d dragged from the kitchen bar (I really needed more furniture in the den) and I were still online furniture shopping.
*
“Don’t stay up too late, kiddo. I’m off to bed,” I said to Auden who was lounged on the couch in front of the TV, surrounded by schoolbooks, notebooks and his tablet.
It was late. His sister had gone to bed half an hour ago. Auden was still doing homework. The TV was on, but as only kids could do, he was sitting in front of it with it blaring but most of his attention was on his work.
I put my hands to the arms of the chair I was in and started to push up when Auden’s eyes came to me.
“He fucks you over, you get rid of him.”
I froze.
“Auden,” I whispered.
“The minute he fucks you over, Mom, get rid of him,” he ordered, his voice low and there was a tremor of emotion that cut deep.
I rested my behind back to the seat and kept my focus on my son.
“First,” I said quietly, “I’m not fond of your language.”
Auden didn’t reply, he just continued staring at me.
“Second,” I went on, “is there something you want to share with me?”
“Dad screwed you over and it messed you up,” he declared instantly.
God, direct hit.
“I know, kiddo, and I’m sorry I made that so easy for you to see.”
He shook his head forcefully. “No. That’s not what I mean. Dad screwed you over and it messed you up, Mom. You’re good now. You got through it. But you know better than me that guys can be dicks. Don’t let this guy be a dick to you.”
“I learned something from what happened before, sweets,” I assured him. “And whatever’s in my future with a man, or even getting a hangnail, I’m not going to allow that to happen again. And by that I mean I’m not going to fall apart.”
He stopped lounging and leaned toward me. “No,” he repeated emphatically. “Just don’t let this guy be a dick to you.”
I stared at my boy and tried to read anything I could that he wasn’t giving to me verbally.