PARIS #2
My entire body goes rigid, tears pricking behind my eyes and nose.
I can’t move or speak, thoughts stumbling over one another in my head as I attempt to come up with a reply.
I always knew Braxton wasn’t thrilled about having a baby so young, but I chalked his behavior up to immaturity.
I mean, he proceeded to have two more with me after the first, so why wouldn’t I assume things would get better as we got older?
I figured he’d grow up eventually, settling into his role as a husband and father once he had a chance to adjust and come to grips with reality.
But the longer it went on, the more I realized what a terrible situation we were raising our children in.
The day I decided I’d had enough meant the end of our marriage, but I had no idea he saw it as a way to rid his life of Rowan, Rhys, and Lennon, too.
I want to scream at him. I want to grab him by the collar of his stupid button-up shirt and shake some sense into him.
The mama bear in me wants to roundhouse kick him in the face for being such a selfish piece of shit.
He can say whatever he wants about me, but bad-mouthing my kids when they just wanted their dad’s attention?
There’s no way I’m letting him get away with that.
“You know what, Braxton?” I say, the muscles in my jaw burning from the way I had it clenched.
“You don’t fucking deserve them. And they’ll be just fine without you.
They’ve got an amazing man in their lives who’s teaching them everything you were too self-centered to be around for.
He’ll never treat them like they don’t matter, and they won’t have to go to bed sad at night because he’ll always be there to remind them how special they are. ”
He chuckles darkly. “You think Austin Baker’s going to stick around and take care of children that aren’t his?
He won’t. He’ll get bored with you the same way I did, and he’ll realize that the juice isn’t worth the squeeze.
Whatever this is that you’re doing”—he gestures at my outfit—“will only keep him interested until someone more exciting comes along. Then you’ll be alone again, trying to guilt someone else into supporting a single mom with three kids.
Face it, Paris, no man in their right mind would ever want a life like that when they have gorgeous women with zero baggage falling at their feet like he does. ”
My stomach clenches, bile rising up my throat as a potent mixture of disappointment, rage, and resentment rushes through my veins. I’m so disgusted that I ever thought this man was worth the tears I cried over him, wishing he’d just see us.
“Fuck you,” I rasp, the words like acid burning me from the inside out as I spit them in his direction.
Unable to look at him for another second, I spin on my heel, moving on autopilot as I walk back toward my seat.
I’m still shaking by the time I reach the top of our section, but I take a deep breath, stiffening my chin.
I refuse to shed a single tear in front of my children and ruin such a fun day, despite how angry I am.
I’ll wait until I get home and break down in the shower like I always do when life gets heavy.
I’ll cry until I have nothing left, then I’ll pull myself together and pretend like another piece of me wasn’t battered and bent in the process.
There isn’t time for anything else—not when those three innocent little humans are depending on me.
Thankful for the oversized glasses I carry in my bag and the late-setting summer sun, I dig them out, sliding them onto my face.
Even though I’ve managed to keep my tears at bay, there’s no way Austin and the boys won’t notice the sadness behind my eyes.
I attempted to let Braxton’s hateful words toward me go in one ear and out the other, but the truth is that they struck a nerve.
He found some wounds that I thought were healed and tore them back open, and now I’m going to have to sort through those emotions, too.
But again, that’s something I need to do on my own.
Not here in the middle of a crowded baseball stadium where my children are enjoying themselves.
Side-stepping past the fans in our row, I quietly apologize until I’ve found my seat.
The boys are both sporting their brand-new hats, and Lenny has her arm wrapped around a Homer plush that’s almost as big as she is.
Every one of them is wearing a big, bright smile, none greater than the man who’s sitting in the midst of it.
The sight of his contentment warms my heart, but I can’t stop Braxton’s words from echoing in the back of my mind.
You think Austin Baker’s going to stick around and take care of children that aren’t his?
He’ll get bored with you the same way I did.
No man in their right mind would ever want a life like that when they have gorgeous women with zero baggage falling at their feet like he does.
I believe the things Austin has said about being all in on this, but does he really know what he’s getting into?
Will he still be smiling this way five years from now when we’re exhausted and don’t have an ounce of energy for one another as the days turn into nights?
Will I be enough to keep him happy when he could literally be anywhere else with someone who could give him the attention he deserves?
I want to trust that the answer is no, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried that one day, he might change his mind and leave us broken in a world where we have to exist without him.