“I’m also sorry it wound up like this. Reid and I. I really care about him though, and my feelings for him have nothing to do with you.”
She takes a long sip of her drink and laughs to herself. “I think I always thought we’d get back together. Some stupid part of me thought dating his brother would wake him up and make him want to fight to have me back. I think all I did was push him farther away. I guess we never were good for each other in the first place. I never really talked about it, but Reid is a good man.” She shakes her head, looking down at her drink thoughtfully. “He is a better man than I deserved. I guess that scared me. It made me feel inferior and insecure. So I did something stupid.”
“Even though it didn’t work out with Reid, you have Roman,” I say encouragingly. “You know Roman loves you. It’s important that you be there for him. He needs his mom.”
She raises her glass to take a sip and then grimaces, setting it down a little too hard on the end table and shattering it. “Shit,” she says, jumping up and hurrying to pick up the glass.
By the time I get up to her to help, she’s already crying, hot tears streaming down into her glass-filled hands. “I fucked it all up,” she sobs. I’m just a big, stupid fuck up.”
I kneel down, avoiding the glass and hug her. “There are other guys, but you only have one son. It’s not too late to change for him.”
She sniffs, looking down at her shaking hands and gets up to throw away the glass. She pauses in front of the cabinet and then opens the doors above the sink, reaching behind some plates to pull out a bottle of liquor. She opens it and pours it down the sink, following it with several other bottles of alcohol she produces from various places in the kitchen.
Before I leave she hugs me tightly. “You’re a good friend, Sandra. You deserve better than the way I’ve treated you all these years.”
I hug her back. “I’m ready to start over if you are,” I whisper.
As I’m leaving Tara’s house, I’m grabbed by the arm. I’m about to scream when I realize who it is.
“Mark? What are you doing? Let me go,” I snap, yanking my arm away from him.
He laughs off my discomfort, patting down the air to try to get me to calm down. “Look. I came by to tell you not to waste your time tomorrow. I know what you and your employees are planning. Let me tell you. It won’t work. Not a chance in hell.”
The corner of Mark’s mouth pulls up in a sneer and he hitches his pants, leaning close enough that I can smell his sour breath. “Tell me, Sandra. Do you honestly believe you’re going to sell enough fucking baked goods to get the money? Come on. Be realistic.”
I purse my lips and force a tight smile. “If you didn’t think there was a chance of me raising the money, why are you creeping around at night trying to talk me out of doing it?”
He runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth, nodding his head and grinning. “I see why my brother likes you. Tell you what, Sandra. Once this all blows over, you ever get tired of oil stains on your sheets you give me call, okay? Here’s my card.”
I look down at the card, smile politely, and drop it in a pile of dog poop by the sidewalk. “What do you know,” I say. “It blends right in.”
21
Reid
Mack Perry looks at me seriously from across the table. The rising sun blares in through the window behind him and he’s tapping a pen against a stack of papers. “You’re sure you want to do this, Riggins?”
Roman and I are in his hotel room and Mack is a little hard to take seriously in the t-shirt and basketball shorts he’s wearing, but his eyes are all business.
“Yeah. Give me the pen,” I say.
Mack tilts his head and then nods, sliding the stack of papers and the pen to me. He jabs in a few spots, indicating the places I need to sign. A few squiggles of the pen later, It’s done. Simple as that. Roman smiles up at me.
“Can I sign, Daddy?”
“Not now Bud,” I say, struggling to find the energy to smile. I settle for ruffling his hair and looking down at the stack of papers, wondering if I’m the biggest idiot in the world or if I’m doing the right thing. Fuck. I really wish I knew.
“I’ll hold on to these, okay Riggins? ‘Til tonight. That way if her plan works you can call me and I’ll just toss these in the shredder.”
I stand, leading Roman toward the door. “Thanks, Mack. Somehow I doubt you’ll be hearing from me.”
Roman and I pull up to the strawberry shortcake tent Sandra and the girls are setting up. There’s a big oven and a huge prep table already sitting in the grass and the oven is linked to a portable generator by some precarious looking extension cords held together partly by duct tape.
“I have some cords in the truck that won’t blow you up,” I say, kicking at the cord.
“Good to see you too,” Sandra quips. She looks beautiful. Her cheeks are flushed and I can see the hope in her face. She thinks this is going to work.
“So,” I ask. “Who can I talk to about buying some shortcake?”
“You don’t even have any strawberries.”
I put a hundred dollar bill down on the prep table. “No change.”
“Reid…” she says.
“Take the man’s money!” says Lauren. “Hold onto it incase he doesn’t pay child support.”
I quirk an eyebrow at Sandra, who looks away, cheeks growing redder. “Something you’re not telling me?” I ask.
“No, she just knows there’s a possibility. Trying to keep something from Lauren is harder than keeping a secret from the inquisition. She’s crafty.”
I chuckle.
“She told me too, sorry Reid,” says Jennifer, who pops out from behind the big oven.
“Yeah, well, Roman and I will go get that cord and bring it back.”
“You didn’t even take any shortcake,” Sandra complains.
I smirk. “How much are you charging?”
“Four dollars a setup.”
I wince. “So that’s, what… Like two or three thousand you need to sell?”
Sandra swallows hard. “I wasn’t going to get the calculator out or anything, but well, yeah. Probably around there.”