Frayed Silk(16)

Lola laughs. “I think they’re kind of cute, but I definitely prefer the other ones. I swear, they’re just bored and looking for ways to make us spend more money.”

“You’re not wrong there.” Fiona sighs then her eyes zero in on my neck, and she steps forward, slapping my arm. “Oh, you little tramp, you still let Leo give you hickeys?”

Fuck. I quickly try to hide it with my hair. I almost forgot about it, and that makes me panic because if I haven’t been careful, then maybe Leo’s seen it, too.

“Uhhh,” I stutter as Lola’s eyes widen so much that I think she’s about to fall backward. “Yeah, sometimes,” I force out with a nervous giggle.

Fiona just grins, nudging me with her elbow. “You lucky thing. I can’t remember the last time Dylan gave me a hickey, the bastard.”

That has me frowning. I knew those two liked to fight more than what is considered normal, but she seems a little more upset with him than usual.

To deflect and because I’m curious, I ask, “Everything okay? With Dylan?”

Her eyes flit away for a brief second—so quick, I almost miss it.

“Yes, fine. He’s just been in a mood thanks to his latest client at work. I can’t wait till it’s all finalized,” she says before turning to look across the parking lot as the bell rings and kids start to pour out of the giant, old wooden doors.

Her husband works in marketing if I remember correctly. God, I’ve been trapped underneath my own problems for so long that I’m afraid I’ll forget someone’s birthday. I make a quick note of the date as the kids run up to us. Lola pinches my arm when Fiona turns toward her boys.

“Ouch. What was that for?” I rub my arm.

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” She glares.

Damn it, I know. And there’s no way she’s going to believe what I want her to, that Jared didn’t give me the stupid hickey.

“Okay.” I sigh. “Tomorrow, though? I’ve got orders to send out on my way home.” It’s true. But I also want some time to wrap my head around what to tell her and prepare myself for the inevitable lecture that’s coming my way.

Fiona turns and waves goodbye, heading over to her car.

“Right after school drop-off. My place,” Lola says before opening the door for Sophie to climb into their car.

Sucking in a deep breath, I kiss both kids on the head, grab their bags, and help them into the car before making my way to the post office.

“Rupert said a naughty word today at recess, Mommy,” Greta says solemnly after we’re back in the car. My phone chirps with a text in my purse as I finally pull out of the parking lot and follow the long line of cars down the road. I ignore it; I’ll check it when I get home.

“Shut it. It’s none of your business, Greta,” Charlie hisses.

“Is too!”

“Is not,” he growls.

“Is too, is too,” she sings.

“Okay! Enough.” I flick my turn signal on before turning down our street. “What happened?”

“I can’t repeat it,” Greta gasps. “Then I’ll get in trouble.”

I see Charlie rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror. “He said his dad called his mom a slut. There. That’s it. I said it,” he huffs.

Oh, my God. I don’t know whether to tug my mom cap down extra tight and give him a stern talking-to for repeating it or let out the shocked laughter that’s begging to be set free.

I settle on a fucked-up combo of both.

“Charlie,” I croak. “Thank you for … for …” For what? Repeating something he shouldn’t have? But how else would he tell me? “Yeah, just don’t say that word. It’s pretty horrible, ‘kay?” I pull into the driveway, waiting for the garage door to go up when he mutters, “Whatever. I wasn’t going to, but you wanted to know.”

“Thanks, smarty pants.” I drive in and turn the ignition off.

“Is Rupert okay?” I turn around and ask.

He shrugs, taking his seat belt off. “I guess, he was just telling everyone about the fight his parents had last night. I think he thought it was funny.” He climbs down and shuts the door.

“Hey! You forgot your bag,” I grumble as he walks inside the house.

“He didn’t seem sad,” Greta says when I help her out. “Rupert just likes to tell stories. Henry, though, he looked a little annoyed.” She gets her bag and runs inside.

Not my business, not my business, I repeat to myself as I grab my purse and Charlie’s bag then head inside. Because yeah, I don’t really want Fiona’s boys describing their parents’ arguments in detail, but I know if I say something, I’ll either offend Fiona or embarrass her. Fine lines, I tell you. I unpack the kid’s lunch boxes and bags before remembering I need to check my phone.

I almost drop it when I unlock the screen and see who the text is from.



Jared: Blondie, are you okay?



Jared: Don’t freak out. I called myself from your phone while you were in the bathroom.



It’s hard to believe it’s only been two days since I ran out of the hotel like my ass was on fire. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for him to have my number, but I can’t bring myself to tell him to delete it either. It’s official—I’m a mess.