“Candace and Lane? We live three houses from you on the right? The gray one with the burgundy shutters.”
“Oh the one with the high grass,” I exclaimed like an idiot.
Paxton squeezed my hand to shut me up. “I’ve got guys heading over there this afternoon. It’ll be mowed before you get home.”
Candace and Lane walked with us while our kids ran up ahead with their little girl. What a little cutie, and I loved her name. Chance for a little girl. How adorable was that?
Lane laughed. Like really laughed. Gut-wrenching laughed. I frowned. I didn’t get it. Why was that so funny?
“Fuck you, Lane,” Paxton said while we walked.
“That’s great. I love it. Swooped off your high horse by your wife. I’m buying you a drink the next time we go out,” Lane said, eyes on me.
“Sorry. How was I supposed to know our company mowed his lawn?” I said when Paxton held me back a step, slowing our pace. Lane looked over his shoulder and down my body. The dude straight-up checked me out with my hand in my husband’s. Dick.
“My company. This is why you don’t talk when we’re out. Let me do the talking. Shut your mouth. Don’t talk.”
I did shut my mouth for all of five minutes. Tricia and Brant were there, too.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came. You must be going stir crazy,” Tricia said with her butt sliding to the right for me to move in beside her.
Paxton lightly squeezed my hand. My permission to talk. “I am. What are you doing here? I thought your daughter was twelve,” I questioned.
The girl directly in front of me with her thumbs glued to her phone looked back.
“You must be Phoenix.” I smiled. “Sorry.”
“Hey! Can I do my health report on you?” she exclaimed like the brilliant idea had just popped into her head.
“Phoenix!” Brant scolded.
“What? It’s a great idea.”
“No, it’s not. Gabriella has been through enough. Do it on someone else.”
“Ugh. Who? It’s not like I know anyone else who’s had an illness to report about.”
“Call your Grandma Kate. She’s got all kinds of illnesses,” Brant offered with a grunt after taking an elbow to the ribs from Tricia.
I laughed, assuming it was her mother. And once again the grip got tighter.
I listened to the conversation between the women and men, wondering why they were all there. It wasn’t Friday night football. It was five-to seven-year-old tee-ball.
It didn’t take long to figure it out. Four teams played that Saturday morning, all with the logos of their own companies. The banter going between the three men explained it all. They were there to spread their tail feathers, boast each of their team’s win, and rub in their victory. None of them were there for the game.
Shayla and her husband Mark joined us next. Mark joined right in.
“Ready to lose today, sucker?” Mark asked with an extended hand. Paxton removed his death grip from me and shook Mark’s hand. “How are you, Gabriella?”
“I don’t remember,” I joked. Paxton took my hand again. Geesh. It was a joke. Everyone else thought it was funny. I shut up and turned my attention to the girls. Rowan stood on the back of the bench, climbing up the fence. Ophelia sat in the dirt, trying like hell to tie her shoe. Nobody came to either of their rescues. The coach was too busy talking in a circle, flipping pages on a clipboard.
“Hey,” I quietly said as the talk continued around us. Paxton squeezed my hand, shushing me. It pissed me off that time. Had I always been this timid? I let go of his hand and stepped off the bleachers with a hiss. Damn, that hurt. I walked away from him and the male egos, limping toward the dugout.
Rowan was halfway up the fence by the time I got to her. High enough to break a bone if she fell the right way.
“Hey, how about you get down from there,” I said from the other side of the fence.
“There’s a bird nest. I think it has eggs,” Rowan countered, still climbing.
“Down, Rowan. Now,” I ordered in a stern tone. It felt natural for me to discipline her in a motherly fashion. By the time I had moved around to her side of the fence, she was hopping down. I winked at her with a smile for listening.
“I can’t bend to you, but if you go sit on the bleachers, I’ll help you tie your shoe,” I said to Ophelia with a hand shielding my eyes from the sun.
“Okay,” Ophelia agreed with bright eyes. Just as I had gotten to the bleachers with her, the coach called them in for a huddle.
“I have a go now, Mommy,” she worried.
The shoe-tying lesson was cut short by the coach. I quickly tied her shoe and hobbled back to my husband and those people. My neighbors. My friends. My life. Paxton’s eyes were right on me, but they weren’t angry like I was expecting. They were. Hmmm. Star-struck. I don’t know, it was…weird. Peculiar. Lane’s eyes did the same thing. His stare was directed right at me. Creepy.
“You should have said something. I didn’t see her,” Paxton said from my side.