15. June
FIFTEEN
June
Today is the day I come clean to my mom. I swear. I’m going to do it. I’ve been avoiding her all morning, and there’s no chance I’ll be able to dodge her the entire day.
Even though that would be great.
Ideal.
But I’m not that lucky.
Which is why I’m pacing outside her office—or rather off to the side so she can’t see me.
I’m going to get ahead of this thing. I’m going to seize the day. Tackle the moment. Oh, my first football pun.
Ryan would be proud of me. My mom, not so much.
There’s a good chance her head is going to explode. Yeah ... this can wait. No need to bother her with my trivial life in the middle of a workday. This is a bad idea, a ... wait, what did they call it when that guy dropped the football? A fumble. That’s it. This whole thing is a fumble, and while I don’t think I’m using that term correctly, the sentiment stands.
I stop in my tracks and turn around, intent on safely retreating back to the front desk when I’m spotted .
“Are you going to come in here or stand in the hallway for the rest of the afternoon?”
Dammit. Is this a trick question? It feels like a trick question. Either way, I drag myself into her office before she comes out and does it herself. To be fair, she hasn’t done that since middle school, but I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Wow.” I shuffle to the seat on the other side of her desk and point out the window. “Did you see the outside? It looks really nice out.”
“Yes, June. I know what the sun looks like.” She stares at me, her face impassive.
This is the face that intimidates spouses and opposing lawyers. She can be ruthless when she wants to be, cutthroat in her determination, but her clients love her. Her disposition may not be sunny, but her reputation is impeccable.
Too bad I don’t need her lawyer face right now. I need her to maybe soften up a bit. Find some understanding in that heart of hers. She doesn’t micromanage Poppy, or our younger sisters, but then again, they didn’t end up pregnant by a stranger before graduating from college. Or ever. I can see why she focuses all her mom powers on me, but it would be really nice if she loosened the reins a bit.
“If you’ve got bad news, you might as well go on with it. No point dragging this out. I have a client in ...” She glances down at her watch before her sharp gaze lands on me. “Twenty-five minutes.”
I had a whole speech planned for this moment. I thought about it all night—even wrote it down and had a copy of it on my desk, but looking at her right now, it all flies out the window. I have no idea how to start this conversation.
Oh, hey, Mom, remember when I met a man at a bar and let him knock me up? Well, I have good news, I ran into him at the stadium last week. And guess what? He’s one of those Neanderthal football players you love so much. Do you want to know the best part? I’m living with him until I can get back in my apartment. Isn’t that great?
That’ll be really great. She’s going to love it.
“Twenty-four minutes, June.”
With a sigh, I plop myself down in the oversize chair. “So, remember Oliver’s dad?”
“Not particularly.” She raises a brow, assessing me, her nails clacking on the surface of the desk. “But then again, neither did you.”
“Yeah, well, funny story ...” Time to rip off the Band-Aid. I can do this. “I sorta ran into him the other day.”
She sits up straight, her hands gripping the edge of the desk, her eyes hardening. “Who is this man?”
I shift in the chair, crossing my legs and clasping my fingers to keep from fidgeting. “Ryan Devlin. He was at the football stadium when I was dropping off the divorce papers for Mr. Brooks.”
“That’s why you were looking him up last week. A fucking idiot football player. Really, June?” She huffs a laugh. “A player indeed. I hope you had the sense not to tell him about Oliver.”
“Of course I did.” My voice goes up an octave, and my fingers tighten around each other, quite possibly cutting off my blood supply. “It’s the right thing to do. Despite your predisposition toward athletes, he’s a good man and wants to be involved in Oliver’s life. And yes, I’m well aware you’re going to want to draw up a parental agreement, and that’s fine, but it will be fair. I don’t want his money, and I will not take away his time with our son.”
Mom whistles, leaning back in her chair, and this is where I’m expecting her to explode, only she doesn’t. She looks impressed?
No.
That can’t be right.
“I’ll draw something up by the end of the day and send it to you to look over, make sure it’s agreeable.”
“I ...” For the second time my mind blanks. I thought she’d be pissed. I was prepared for her to yell. I can tell you, I’m not prepared for this. “Thank you, Mother. I appreciate that.”
Her nod is tight, curt. “I do expect an introduction to him and his family.” She unlocks her phone, tapping on the screen for several seconds. “This weekend, I’ll be out of town. But next weekend I’ll be available. I’m sure he has a game on Sunday, so Friday night we’ll have a cookout at the house. You can even invite your father.”
“I’ll let him know. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I can be reasonable about certain things. Your future, however, isn’t one of those things, and I sincerely hope you and this football player aren’t entertaining any notions of becoming romantically involved now that you’ve reconnected. I know you need to do this yoga venture and get it out of your system, but for your son’s sake, you need to find a nice man. A reasonable man.”
Just what Poppy said, a boring man.
I don’t bother telling her I’m not interested in dating anyone right now simply because there’s no point. She’ll pick and prod while I continue to live my life. It’s not worth the fight. Which is exactly why I’m keeping my living situation to myself. It’s clear she’s already given me whatever leniency she has, and I’m not about to press my luck.
My mom and I have always had a tumultuous relationship. I’m the oldest, so of course she was the hardest on me. I was the one pushed to get straight A’s in school. I was pressured to join school clubs and learn how to play an instrument. Guess how many times I’ve had to play a freaking flute since I graduated from high school.
That’s right. Zero.
Aside from filling a box on my college applications, math club, the debate club, and being elected the editor in chief of our high school paper meant nothing.
At the time I thought I was on track to go to law school. I had no other dreams, so I adopted hers as my own. It seemed like the logical choice, and while my mom was happy, I was following her plan, I tried to buck the system whenever I could.
She hated the rock music I loved, and I’d blast it through the house. She hated mess, and I made sure to leave one. We argued a lot.
Until I went to college.
She knew I was on the path and had an internship ready for me when I graduated. She loved Paul and was more than willing to help me plan the perfect wedding.
Then everything went to shit.
There’s no way to sugarcoat it.
And when I found out I was pregnant, she was the first one I called. Not Poppy. Not my friends from school. My mom.
She flew out to North Carolina the next day and went to my first appointment. She got Oliver’s first sonogram picture. She got to hear his heartbeat. As much as I resent her sometimes, she was my rock when I thought I was going to drown.
I guess that’s why I let her take control of my life. I can begrudge her all I want, but that was a choice I made. My life was in such a tailspin and was about to change forever. I had no idea what I was doing, what that meant for my future, and I let her be in control of it all.
Only now I’m ready to take it back. I’m ready to make my own future—it’s just not the one she envisioned for me.
She loves me. She loves her grandson. But she needs to let us flourish.
“Thanks, Mom.” I push up from the chair and start to leave her office, but about halfway there, I turn back around. “Thanks for always being there for me.”
She doesn’t say anything for several beats, but it’s clear from her unguarded expression, I’ve surprised her. “Yeah.” She clears her throat. “It’s what I’m here for.”
With a nod, I head out of her office, feeling so much better about my day. I can’t wait to text the girls, or rather the football daddy chat—insert eye roll here—and tell them how well Mom took the news.
And I’m about to when?—
“Hey there, June.”
“Michael.” I greet him with a smile and a shy wave. “How are you?”
“Better now.” His smile nearly takes up his whole face, but sadly he doesn’t have any dimples. He does, however, have a law degree and is a junior partner here. I try not to hold it against him, because he really is a genuinely nice guy. “What about you?”
“Not too bad. Was about to take my lunch break, though. What can I do for you?”
He glances to the ground, shifting on his feet, his hands fiddling with his tie. When he meets my eyes with his dark-blue ones, I can’t help but compare them to Ryan’s. They’re not as vibrant, not as stormy, not as mesmerizing.
Wait—mesmerizing?
That can’t be right.
“I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you out on a date sometime soon.”
My eyes widen, and my spit clogs my throat momentarily. Well, that was unexpected. He’s flirted with me on occasion, but never in the time we’ve worked together has he given me any indication he’s interested in me.
I should be happy, right?
He’s the kind of guy I should be going for, but when I look at him, nothing. There are no butterflies in my stomach. No zip. No zing. He’s attractive, sure, but in a well-groomed way. His blond hair is perfectly coiffed, brushed back and styled with a fair amount of gel, his square jaw smoothly shaved. He’s completely put together where Ryan is rugged.
Even when I saw pictures of Ryan online wearing a suit, he didn’t look so perfectly composed.
I’d have never thought I’d find that attractive, but I do. Michael could use a little dirt, a little scruff on his chin.
Something must be wrong with me.
“I, uhhh ...” I’m not really sure what to say, how to let him down.
Until I remember Poppy’s promise. She’ll get off my back if I go on one date, and going out with Michael would be safe, easy. He’s nice, and there is zero attraction there, giving him no chance of actually hurting me. And hey, if my mom found out I went out with him and really gave it an honest try and it didn’t work out ... she may give me some more breathing room.
Still. The thought of going out with someone doesn’t sit right, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. It can’t be Ryan, right ?
We’re temporary roommates. He’s the father of my child, and nothing more.
He’s attractive, I can admit that, but it’s fleeting. Sooner or later it will pass and I’ll be able to look at him without my heartbeat increasing and my stomach flopping around.
Maybe going out with Michael will help mitigate those feelings. Maybe it’ll help me push him from my mind, because lusting after someone who has a girlfriend is unhealthy.
This could work.
You know, a date may be exactly what I need to get him out of my head for good.
“Actually Michael, a date sounds nice.” I snag my phone, unlocking it, and hand it over. “Why don’t you give me your number and we can figure out a day that works.”
Those eyes that just don’t compare light up as he takes my phone. “I’ve got the perfect restaurant in mind. You’re not allergic to seafood, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, perfect.”
Couldn’t have said it better myself. Appeasing my mom and sister is great, but clearing my brain of the muscled football player who has no business being there?
Priceless.