Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I sat there, my face on fire as he looked away. My throat felt tight and my nose stung. Holding my breath, I set my hands on my lap, focusing on the way my thumbs brushed against my jeans. I didn’t look at Rhett as he started putting all the sugar packets on the table. I didn’t look at Michael as he set his menu down in front of him. I didn’t even look at Nova when she brought over a couple crayons so Rhett could color on his kid’s menu.
If I’d moved or even breathed, the tears that threatened would’ve become a reality. I refused to cry in the middle of a crowded pancake restaurant.
“Pancakes,” Rhett told me, snuggling in against my side.
“Okay,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
“What do you want to drink, Rhett?” Michael asked, his voice almost too loud as he tried to pretend the table wasn’t practically vibrating with tension.
Rhett didn’t answer.
“You want some juice, bud?” I asked, wrapping my arm around his waist as he leaned over the table.
“Yeah,” Rhett replied.
I wasn’t sure if I was more embarrassed that I’d been called out for being a snob or the fact that Mick had put me in my place. He was right. At least Nova had a job. Hell, Michael was so much better off financially it was ridiculous. He owned a freaking house. One could argue that he was doing so well because he hadn’t had to take care of a child for the last two years like I had—but I wasn’t going to make that argument.
The most idiotic thing about it was that I hadn’t even made the comment about Nova because I cared where she worked. It wasn’t like I had any room to talk. It was jealousy, pure and simple. I’d seen the easy way he was with her, and I’d wanted to ruin it. I’d wanted to make her lesser somehow.
We sat silently until the waiter came and took our order.
“He’d like the kid’s pancakes and syrup, please,” I said, smiling at the waiter. “And some apple juice cut with water.”
“Okay. What about you?”
“Just coffee, please.”
“Nothing to eat?”
“No thanks.”
“Get some food,” Michael ordered, his voice low.
“No thanks, I’m not hungry.” The thought of trying to choke down a meal while Michael sat across from us made me want to vomit.
“Just get somethin’ to eat, Emilia.”
“No, I’m good,” I said, shaking my head. I shot the waiter another smile.
“I’d like the strawberry pancakes,” Michael said. “With coffee.”
“I’ll get those right out,” the waiter replied cheerfully, walking away as quickly as he could.
“You serious right now?” Mick asked, staring at me. “You’re not gonna eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then why did we come to breakfast?”
“You and Rhett are hungry.”
“You’re acting like a child.”
“Just drop it,” I ground out through my teeth. I turned to Rhett and pointed to his menu coloring page. “Are you going to color the tires?”
For the rest of the meal, Michael and I barely spoke. Rhett and I talked, and Michael spoke to Rhett, but there may as well have been a wall between us. Our son could feel the tension in the air and immediately snuggled into my side. He barely looked at Michael. I felt bad about it, but I wasn’t sure how to fix it.
By the time we got up from the table and headed toward the front door, Michael was so tense he looked like at any moment he was going to Hulk out of his clothes. When he stopped at the hostess station to talk to Nova, I gave a little wave but kept walking. I told myself it was because I didn’t know her and it would be awkward for me to stop, but the truth was that I was embarrassed.
I’d been talking shit when the girl had been perfectly nice to me. It hadn’t been my best moment.
“No car,” Rhett whined as I put him back in his car seat.
“We’re just going back to Daddy’s house,” I said, running my fingers through his hair.
“Grandma’s house,” he said, looking at me.
“You’re right,” I said, nodding. I’d wondered when he would realize it was the same house we’d visited when we got into town. “It was my house when we were little, but it’s Daddy’s house now.”
“Daddy’s mean.”
“Your dad’s not mean, buddy,” I said in surprise. “Daddy’s awesome.”
“Daddy.” Rhett scrunched his face into a scowl, and it was almost startling how closely it resembled Michael’s.
I sighed, struggling to find a way to explain. There was no way to explain the nuances of a relationship to a two-year-old.
“He wasn’t being mean,” I said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “I wasn’t being very nice, and he was just making sure I knew that.”
“Mama’s nice,” Rhett replied stubbornly.
“You’re my best friend,” I said, leaning in to kiss him. “You know that, right?”