Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(23)

“Dude, seriously?” Mitchell responds instantly, sounding annoyed. “Mom and Dad aren’t together, and they haven’t been together in like… years.”

“I guess you’re right.” Max’s voice is barely above a whisper. “It’s just… when Mom comes around, Dad always seems like he wants her to stay.”

“Dad wants us to have Mom, but that doesn’t mean he wants her,” Mitchell tells his little brother matter-of-factly, and my chest gets tight. “We haven’t seen Mom in months, and Dad should find someone who makes him happy.”

“Do you think...” Max pauses and seems to ponder what he’s going to ask. “Do you think December will make him happy?”

“I don’t know, but I saw them together and—” He cuts off his own words, and I watch as he shakes his head. “She’s nice. Dad deserves someone nice.”

“Mom is nice,” Max says, sounding defensive. Him defending his mom isn’t surprising. Beth has been in and out of his life since he was born, but anytime she’s come around, she has made it a point to bring gifts and make it seem like she’d been on an adventure she couldn’t wait to come back from, just so she could share all her stories with him.

I see an irritated look fill Mitchell’s eyes, and when he sits up straight and starts to open his mouth, I know it’s time to step in. I force my feet to move and my mouth to open before Mitchell has a chance to respond. “I see you two managed to share a pizza. Now, tell me. How’s your homework going?”

“I’m just about done,” Mitchell tells me, and my eyes go to Max.

“I don’t have much left either.”

“If you guys get everything done today, we’ll go to the batting cage tomorrow before the game.”

“We’ll have it done,” Max assures with excitement, and Mitchell nods in agreement with his brother.

“Good,” I say, turning toward the door when it’s shoved open and my mom walks in.

“I brought chocolate chip cookies,” she says in the form of a greeting, holding a Tupperware container in the air.

“Right on!” Max exclaims, jumping off the couch to greet her with a hug before taking the container from her. Mitchell isn’t far behind him in greeting his grandma, but I notice he doesn’t hug her. He just smiles and allows her to kiss his cheek.

When both boys are settled back on the couch with their pizza and the tub of cookies, I glance at the clock to check the time then go to the front door and shrug on my jacket.

“You’re leaving already?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, I want to stop and pick up flowers, and I know traffic will be crazy with all the construction happening around town.”

“Flowers,” she murmurs, looking proud, and then she eyes me from head to toe. “You look handsome. Burgundy looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, and she grins. “The boys asked about seeing a movie. I left a hundred dollars on the kitchen counter for you, if you feel up to taking them.”

“I can pay for my grandbabies to see a movie,” she snaps, sounding as annoyed as she always does when I leave money with her for the boys.

“It’s not for the movie. It’s for the forty dollars’ worth of junk food they will want, along with whatever you guys decide to pick up for dinner.”

“We’ll go to Walmart before and get stuff to take in with us.” She waves me off.

“They’ll still want frozen drinks at the movie, along with popcorn, and food afterward.”

“Yeah, and I can afford that stuff too. I’m not broke.”

She’s not; she’s always been careful with money. Still, I always leave money, even if I know it will be right where I left it when I get home. “Use it or don’t, but it’s there if you need it,” I say, and she gives me a look full of annoyance. I glance at the couch, where the boys are now eating chocolate chip cookies and watching some show on TV, and then look at my mom. “After they eat, urge them to finish their homework before you go to the movies.”

“It’s Saturday. They have tomorrow to do homework.”

“Yeah, but I told them I’d take them to the batting cages tomorrow before the game comes on. If they have homework, they will have to miss out on one or the other.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’ll be back before eleven,” I tell her, then add, “If I’m running later than that, I’ll call.”

“Eleven, midnight, tomorrow morning—we’ll be good.” She smiles, back to being happy, and I shake my head at her.

“Boys, be good for your grandma!” I shout as I grab my keys.

“We will!” Max shouts back.

“Have fun, Dad,” Mitch says.

“Thanks, bud.” I lift my chin.

“Have fun tonight.” Mom winks.

“Thanks,” I shake my head.

After fighting traffic and picking up flowers from the florist in town, I head to December’s apartment building and get there ten minutes before I’m supposed to arrive. I climb out, taking the bouquet of pink peonies with me, and move to her door. I knock and get no reply, so I knock again and ring the bell, hearing a muttered curse right before the door is yanked open.