25. Blake
25
BLAKE
T he next morning, I woke refreshed and well-rested. All thanks to Zach putting George to bed. It wasn’t often that I could put myself and my needs first, and that included making sure I got into bed at a reasonable hour after getting George settled.
Zach couldn’t have any clue how amazing of a gesture it was to just let go like that, and as I got ready for the day, I daydreamed about all the ways I’d like to repay him. They were all naughty ideas, but the common denominator beneath them all was whether he would be here long enough for me to act on any of them.
In my heart, I knew we weren’t just screwing around. If a man was only interested in sex, he wouldn’t put PJs on me and not try to cop a feel. Zach hadn’t, though, and his sweet tenderness of “tucking me in” prompted me to wish this could be a long-lasting fling instead of a short one.
“Listen, honey,” I told George later as I waited for a spot to drop him off in the school line. “Please avoid Brent today.”
He nodded, poised with his hand on the door handle to jump out with how efficiently this car line was expected to flow. “Okay, Mama.”
“Try not to be near him at all, okay? Steer clear of him.”
“Should I stand up for myself if he comes near me?” he asked.
I resisted a growl. “Yes. Yes , George. Always, always stand up for yourself.” I never had to ask him not to start anything. He was never the instigator. “But try to avoid letting him close enough where you’d be stuck having to defend yourself.”
“Okay, Mama.” He opened the door but before he launched out, he paused and grinned at me. “I had a lotta fun with Mr. Zachary.”
Oh, honey. “I’m glad. He’s really nice, huh?” I ignored the horn honking behind us.
“Uh-huh,” he replied. “I wish he could be my daddy.”
I froze, unable to let my face show the emotions crashing through me. Guilt. Hope. Sorrow. Joy. I was a contradictory mess. “Have a good day, honey,” I said instead.
On the whole drive to the warehouse to interview for the third-shift position, I stressed over what my darling son had said.
Zach was his dad.
They did get along and bond.
But neither knew the truth.
Stress knotted my stomach, and I warred with the guilt of keeping my secret so that I couldn’t handle the jazzy carols on the radio. I shut it off, glad that the van had been repaired and dropped off this morning so I could get to this interview. I had to focus on that right now. Not Zach or how terrible I was to have such cold feet about revealing my big secret.
Getting another job wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I was stuck. I had to stay on top of all the old bills and pay off the funerals that were still on my debt load.
I wished I didn’t have to feel like I had to handle everything. That I could take a break. Being able to not be in charge and be on all the time would mean that I’d have a partner, and I was too damn afraid to ask for help or to be alone.
Zach was exactly what I needed. His consideration and sweetness last night hadn’t been part of getting in my pants, but because he cared. He showed me how it could work with a man to back me up. He was here—for now—but he didn’t want to stay. I couldn’t live with myself if I forced him to stay, and I needed the stability of someone who would stick around. So did George.
As soon as my interview was over, I sighed in relief that it had gone as well as it likely could have. It wrapped up just in time for me to head over to Jenny’s kitchen and do another inventory and shopping trip for the next few parties. We had a small party tonight, but I hoped I’d be able to get out at an earlier hour this time. First, I had to handle the prep and whatnot.
My phone rang, and as soon as I saw Vernford Elementary flashing across the top of the screen, I groaned.
“Oh, come on!” I'd jinxed it, telling George to steer clear of that damn bully. Brent must have gone to him and stirred the pot somehow, because I damn well knew this call would announce another fight.
“Hello?” I answered, not expecting Sara’s voice since she had that stomach bug and texted earlier to say good luck on the interview and also that she was home sick.
“Ms. Myer? Ms. Erin called down for assistance from the principal’s office for help in dealing with?—”
“Another fight,” I finished for her, drawling the end of the sentence.
“Correct. If you don’t mind, could you please come and fetch your son?”
I did mind, as a matter of fact, but I knew better than to wish for the impossible, that Brent would magically stop bullying George.
I was well aware of how unlikely the impossible could ever happen.
I was getting hooked on the dream that Zach could stay and be with me, but that wouldn’t happen, either.
Stop all this wishful thinking.
I sighed, hating how cynical I had to be to not be disappointed in life. It was clear I had to settle for rock bottom—stuck in a job I couldn’t move up any further in, without a lover who’d last, and weighed down by the never-ending drama from a bully.
“What else is there to wish for?” I wondered aloud. “Where can I go from here?”
Talking to myself couldn’t be a good sign of my sanity, but I grumbled as I turned in the direction of the school. On the way, I called Tiff.
“Hey, girlfriend.”
“Hi, Tiff,” I replied. “Gonna be a little late, depending on how this goes.”
She groaned. “Another fight at school?”
“Yeah. I guess we’ll have some help from George in the kitchen.”
“Hey, that’s cool. He loves to help. We’ll be there soon.”
He did love to help, and I was so glad that he cared about pitching in. Yet, he belonged in school. He would be off for winter break soon enough. One last class party would be held. They’d do their family program… I cringed.
The family tree.
That had to be what Brent picked on him for. Again.
The irony killed me. Reagan had never come out and told anyone who Brent’s father was, yet I was the one judged for never naming anyone as George’s. I didn’t care who Reagan slept with to get knocked up. It wasn’t my business and I didn’t want it to be my business. But it wasn’t right for her son to taunt mine for not having a father. Maybe Brent could put more family members down in general. George only had me. It was a slim, skinny, branchless tree, but that didn’t matter. No matter how many members of the Francis family lived in town, George had all the love in the world from me.
But what about Zach’s love?
It was way, way too soon to assume Zach could love George, but he had to have cared a heck of a lot to care for him when he was ill, risk getting sick himself, and then also volunteer to stay later so I could get a much-needed good night’s sleep.
If that wasn’t love…
I wasn’t sure what it could be.
George loved me. I knew that. I was his mother and he was close to me, but later on, as he grew older, he would benefit from having a father too. He would need support from two parents eventually, particularly in ways I couldn’t be there for him. Boy stuff. Manly stuff. Guy things. And I had no male role models in my small circle. Once I moved, I would have no role models at all.
What do I do?
What can I do?
All I had control over was telling Zach and George about how they were related. That news could threaten the building bond they seemed to be growing, but I had no way to know whether it would, if they would get over it and be glad that they were family.
No matter which way I looked at it, it was a gamble and a guessing game.
My phone buzzed again, and I furrowed my brow as I looked at it. The warehouse interviewer was texting me, just to thank me for my time and that they’d reach out as soon as possible, which might be a bit delayed because of the holidays.
I had been trying to delay telling Zach about George until after the holidays, but that was no longer a good idea. I couldn’t take advantage of his generosity and abuse his trust.
The next time I see him, I’ve got to tell him.
And that’s final.
I exhaled a deep breath, bracing myself to pick up George and deal with that drama.
How many more days until break, again?