Crouching didn’t prevent the words from shaking her balance. Renny wobbled as she sucked in a sharp breath. Did something of her shock show in her features? Something must have because Luke finally deigned to look at her and asked, “What’s wrong, Mommy?”
Wrong? Nothing. She didn’t care what Caleb did. “Nothing is wrong...” She paused before saying baby. Last time she’d used the endearment, Luke was none too pleased. All part and parcel of him growing up. She could remember hating it when her dad called her drools. Only to wish he’d kept calling her that later in life. The time before her mother’s death, before the drinking and the finding of God, were the years she tried to remember. Not what Daddy became after.
Renny realized her son was staring at her, having noticed she’d lost her train of thought. She quickly gathered herself. “I’m hungry, bug, are you? And since I won’t have time to really cook supper for us tonight, what do you say we hit Bayou’s Bite for a bucket of shrimp and fries before we go home?”
“You just wanna go home so you can leave me with Wanda.” His lower lip jutted in a pout.
Way to slather on the guilt. No need, baby. The guilt’s always there. She pinched her son’s chin gently. “Sorry. I know I’ve been working a lot of hours lately. As soon as they hire some more people, I will have more time to spend with you.” The promise she feared breaking only served to increase the guilt that gnawed at her, a nagging self-doubt that Melanie had been playing lately.
Her friend would never say anything in front of the kids, but Melanie’s eyes clearly reminded Renny of the talk they’d had recently, given the bills were arriving bigger and faster than her paychecks. Broken muffler. Then a tire. The stove that died. Clothes and shoes for Luke. He was outgrowing things so quickly.
“You should go after him for child support,” Melanie had said to her on the phone just last week. “He owes it to you.”
“Caleb made it clear he wanted nothing to do with our baby.” The jerk couldn’t even be bothered to reply to her letters. She wasn’t going to beg him or his family.
“You have to admit that doesn’t sound like the Caleb we know.”
Yeah, well, the Caleb she knew wouldn’t have just decided one day to abandon family, home, and girlfriend to join the army with barely any notice, just a text message saying, I enlisted. Don’t wait for me.
As breakups went, it had sucked.
And now Mr. Jerky-Pants was back, and she really didn’t care. Now, could her foolish heart stop its ridiculous little flutter?
“What are you doing this weekend?” Renny asked as she watched Luke put on his shoes. God forbid she should offer to help. The little boy disdain was so clear, but her heart broke every time he said, “I can do this by myself.”
“Doing?” Scrunching her nose, Melanie made a moue of distaste. “Andrew is making me go to some kind of corporate picnic they’re having in the Glades behind the institute. As junior VP, he has to be there, which means, as his wife, I have to go. And wear a bra!” The travesty.
“Sounds like fun.”
“Don’t mock me. You know how I hate the swamp.” Melanie’s lips turned down. “The humidity kills my hair. An hour spent straightening it so it can turn into a giant fuzzball the moment I set foot in the bayou.”
“I like your frizz.”
This time, Renny earned the glare. “You shut your mouth, girl with the perfect, straight blonde hair. I swear, you could be outside in a hurricane and you still wouldn’t need a brush. I hate you.”
Wearing a smirk, Renny flipped her ponytail. “I hate you, too, and yet I’d still trade in a heartbeat. Although, I will warn you that the saying is false. Blondes do not have more fun.” She grimaced.
“Only because someone won’t get someone to do something so she can have a life and do, you know, other someones.” Melanie arched her brow as she referenced things obliquely.
Renny’s mature reply was to stick her tongue out.
Having caught the final act, Luke sighed and, with a very put-out voice, said, “Mom. That is so immature.”
She blinked at him then looked at Melanie. “Isn’t he too young to use that tone with me? And that word? Who taught him a word like immature?”
“I blame YouTube,” Melanie said. “It is the root of all evil and that rude fruit show.” Renny went to step out, but Melanie leaned out after her and said, “Hey, so you didn’t say what you were doing this weekend. If you’re bored tomorrow, feel free to come to the picnic. I could use moral support.”
“I thought those were called mint juleps.”
“No drinking allowed.” Melanie rubbed her belly.
“Are you…?”