Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers #2)(58)

She probably told him he wouldn’t get missionary birthday sex this year where he could rub on top of her for thirty seconds while she was fully clothed. Poor guy.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Carter asks as he comes up next to me and helps put forks on all the plates with a slice of cake on them. We've only said a few words to each other in passing since he got here. Both of us have been running around making sure everyone was happy and the party was a success. He had looked a little horrified at first when he got here, having never experienced a little boy’s birthday party before, but he quickly jumped right in, grabbed a can of Silly String and began screaming and running around with the kids.

“I’m okay. Just tired,” I tell him. I want to throw my arms around him and tell him I'm sorry for being such a bitch lately, but I know it will make me cry and I'm not about to do that in front of all these people. He seems nervous standing here with me and it makes me sad that I’ve done this to him. Instead of wrapping his arms around me and making a joke like he normally would, he keeps his distance, probably afraid I will snap at him or burst into tears like I’ve done for three months.

I am the biggest bitch in the entire world.

I turn to face him, knowing I need to say something to clear the air even if it's just to tell him I love him, when one of the she-wolves stalked over and interrupts us.

“Excuse me, but I think you should know that your son just said a bad word,” she informs me haughtily with her hands on her hips.

Son of a bitch. This is so not what I need right now.

“I’m sorry. What did he say?” I ask.

I wonder if she’s too appalled to say whatever the word is out loud. She’s probably going to spell the word for me, and I’m going to have no choice but to point and laugh at her. F-U-C-K, A-S-S, S-H-I-T…what's it gonna be? Hopefully she knows how to spell bad words or this is going to be a whole new level of awesome.

Drew comes up to us and the woman looks at his shirt that says “Have you seen my perfect man ass?” and huffs in irritation.

“What’s the dillio, folks?” he asks, taking a bite out of a cookie and spitting crumbs as he talks.

“I was just telling Claire that Gavin said a bad word in front of my son,” she explains again.

“We’re really sorry,” Carter reiterates.

“So what did he say? Cocksucker, thundercunt, f*ckholes, ballsactitties? Drew asks in all seriousness.

Under normal circumstances I would have probably smacked him in the arm for this, but the shock on Mother Theresa’s face across from me is satisfaction enough. I put my hand over my mouth to cover up my giggle.

She sputters and gasps a few times before she finally replies angrily. “For your information, he said the word c-r-a-p.”

The three of us stand there looking at her funny.

“Well? Aren’t you going to do something about that?” she asks when no one says or does anything.

“I’m sorry, did you just spell the word crap?” Drew asks in confusion.

“Yes, that’s the word Gavin said,” she tells him.

Drew starts laughing. Loud, gut busting laughs.

“Oh my God! You totally had me going there for a minute,” Drew tells her between laughs. “I really thought G-man was going to be in trouble.”

The other mothers must have heard the commotion and walk over to join our small group.

“I should have known you wouldn’t do anything about it. I mean, it’s obvious you don’t know the first thing about being a good parent. The parenting skills you have shown are appalling. Letting your child run amok, talking like a veteran trucker or a sailor. Real people do not talk this way to each other. The amount of times I’ve heard the word v-a-g-i-n-a alone is shocking. If this whole display was a story I was reading, it would be a disappointing ‘did not finish’ for me.”

Oh no she DIDN’T!

I stand there for a few minutes with my mouth hanging open in shock while the other Stepford mothers get on the “you’re a shitty parent” bandwagon and nod their agreements. These women are real pieces of work. I mean, I would totally talk about you behind your back, but I’d never be that mean and bitchy to your face or say something to hurt your feelings.

Until now.

You bitches messed with the wrong pregnant woman.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you cornered the market on perfect parenting. Isn’t that your son sitting on the floor over there eating his boogers and naming his farts? Real genius you’ve got on your hands there. And you,” I say, turning to one of the other ones. “Your kid told me when he got here that he wasn’t allowed to eat processed sugar, white flower, red dye number five, or watch Spongebob because it was too violent. Isn’t he the one sitting on the chair by the door rocking back and forth chanting ‘I hate humans’? My child may be mouthy, and he may say inappropriate things from time to time, but I am a damn good mother. I just found out today my son scored higher on his kindergarten testing than all of your little f*ckwits put together. He may watch Spongebob, he may eat sugar, and he may pick up on phrases the adults around him say, but I can guarantee you that when he’s older, you won’t find a human head in his freezer like little Johnny over there who’s been banging his head against the glass for an hour because he’s in shock from having a piece of cake for the first time in his life. And for your information, real people do actually talk like this. Really cool people who have awesome friends don’t have giant sticks up their asses like you obviously do.”