“Mom!” Max yells needlessly.
“Hey! How was your day?” I ask as I pull off his leopard-print jacket, orange hat, and soaking-wet striped mittens. I notice that he has a black scarf tied over his lime-green pants. It looks like a skirt.
“It was awesome! I made it all the way around once by myself.” Max’s cheeks are rosy and his eyes are shining. My heart bursts with love for this little munchkin. I look to Ron for confirmation and he nods.
“Next stop, hockey.” He grins.
“Or I could do what that guy was doing in the middle of the ice—remember, Dad?”
Max starts to spin around in the middle of the kitchen.
“Figure skating,” Ron mouths to me, and I have to look away so I won’t laugh at the disappointment on his face.
“Looks cool. Now go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready. Skillet tacos just for you.”
“Ninja!” Max yells, and runs to the bathroom off the kitchen.
“How was your day, babe?” Ron gives me a quick kiss on the lips and heads to the fridge.
It’s such a simple question, but with so many possible answers. I decide to keep it brief.
“Well, let’s see. My best friend slept with my trainer.”
Ron registers only mild interest. Why don’t men ever react the way you want them to?
“Really? I didn’t know they were a thing.” His head is in the fridge so I can barely hear him.
“I just found out myself. I’m a little freaked out.”
Ron turns around with one of Max’s Danimals in his hand.
“Why?”
“I think Garth might be a player.”
“A player?” Ron cracks up. “I don’t think so.” He downs the Danimals in one gulp.
“Why not?”
He keeps laughing.
“Well, to be a player you’ve got to have game. And that man just does not have it. I mean, he’s a nice guy, but there’s no way he’s playing Nina.”
“I hope you’re right. I don’t think she could take another heartbreak.”
“What heartbreak? They slept together once.”
“Sometimes once is all it takes for a woman to fall in love. A man, too, by the way.”
Ron looks at me skeptically. “Did you fall in love the first time we had sex?”
“Well, no. But it was three sweaty minutes in the back of your car. All we did was burst the dam of lust that had built up. The first time we made love in a bed, I was pretty swept away.”
“So location has something to do with falling in love.”
“Oh, my God. Are you even listening to me?”
Just then, the back door opens and Chyna walks in. At the same time Max returns with clean hands and an empty stomach, so I know that our discussion is over. Ron turns and heads into the living room and I’m relieved, because clearly I am arguing myself into a corner and making no sense to anyone.
“Chyna! Sweetie. How are you?” I give her a hug.
She smiles and hugs me back nice and tight.
“I’m good.”
She looks so much like her mom that I often wonder if she has even one drop of Sid’s DNA.
“How’s your mom?” l ask as I fill a plate for Max and place it in front of him.
“Really good. She’s been in such a great mood lately.”
“I’ve noticed that, too. Hey, can you sit with Max while he eats? I have to get ready.”
“Sure thing. Hey, Max, whatcha eating?” She sits down beside him.
“Skillet tacos.” Max answers with his mouth full, of course. “Want some?”
“Yeah, I do!” Chyna knows she can help herself to anything in our house. We have an open-fridge policy.
While they eat, I dash upstairs and find Ron in the shower. I head into the bedroom and check my phone. Two texts from Don. One is a selfie outside the Starbucks near school and the other says: Do you have time for a Valentine’s Day coffee tomorrow?
I actually do have time tomorrow, but I hold off texting him back. Not sure where the line is these days, but I think that would definitely be crossing it.
*
J. Gilbert’s is the best steakhouse in Overland Park. Their dry-aged steaks are phenomenal and the restaurant has a comfortable old-school feel with its mahogany furniture and crisp white table linens. There isn’t one waiter under the age of fifty, and they are formal to the point of being rude.
But the waiters are worth tolerating because J. Gilbert’s happens to serve the most delicious onion rings I have ever tasted. They are pretzel-coated and served with three dipping sauces that are so good I don’t know which one to have first. Ron knows it’s my favorite fancy place, so he surprises me once in a while. Tonight it genuinely is a surprise, because we were just here for New Year’s Eve.
“Twice in two months? Are you cheating on me?” I narrow my eyes at him over my menu.
“Actually, New Year’s was kind of a bust, if you remember, so I thought we deserved a do-over.” Ron gives my hand a squeeze across the table.
He’s being kinder than I deserve. I was still in my class mom funk on New Year’s Eve and I was determined not to have a good time.
Mission accomplished, by the way. Not only did I have a shitty time, I was able to suck the fun away from everyone at our table, which was filled with Ron’s favorite customers and their spouses. It’s one of my superpowers, along with growing a person in my stomach and peeling labels off beer bottles intact. It was definitely not my finest moment as the wife of a successful sports-store owner, but in the moment I felt more than justified in forcing my pity party on everyone.
So on the most romantic of holidays (ahem), I’m thrilled to embrace this do-over night with the love of my life and an excellent bottle of ’94 Turley Zinfandel (clearly I’m taking a little break from that clean eating and drinking). We order dinner, then sit back and enjoy our first few sips of wine. What a perfect night.
Just as I am getting my first hint of a buzz on, my eyes are pulled across the room to a couple being seated on the other side of the restaurant. Both tall and thin, him with short salt-and-pepper hair and her with long brown hair flowing down her back.
Well, well, well, if it isn’t the dashing David and Kim Fancy, celebrating Scoundrel’s Night at the same place we are. My mind starts to click through the events of this morning—the bitch slap and all—and I try to piece together why these two would be out for a romantic dinner.
“Jen!”
“What?” Ron’s voice snaps me out of my reverie.
“What are you staring at?” He looks annoyed.
“Sorry, babe, I just noticed the Fancys sitting across the room and wondered what they’re doing here.”
Ron shrugs.
“Same as us, probably.”
I doubt it, but say nothing. Instead, I ask him to tell me all about his ice-capades with Max this afternoon.
“Man, he really loved it. Good call on the indoor rink, by the way.” He raises his glass to me in salute.
“Did he really go around the rink by himself?”