Reckless(75)

“You’re the bestest babysitter ever.”

I smile, knowing she means that in the most complimentary way possible even though the word ‘babysitter’ feels as good as rolling around in a bed of pinecones.

Because it’s so transitory. Temporary. Babysitters come and go, and I hope I end up meaning more to these kids than a blurry memory from when they were young.

Ugh, I must be PMSing. Take a chill pill, Tori.

My cell buzzes on the table. Vivian’s name pops up, and I send it to voice mail.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” Mila scrunches her brows.

“Nah. I’ll call her back tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to give you and Cody all of my attention during the day.” I boink her on her nose, expecting a laugh but getting a sigh instead.

“Mommy talks on the phone. Like all weekend.”

Ah, my little tattletale. “Maybe they’re important calls? Like to your grandparents?” Who I’ve heard are assholes, but again, not my business.

That gets me a shrug.

My phone buzzes with a text message from Viv. Call me back asap!

Six texts later, including one that screams, 911! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NOW, I finally give in.

“It’s about fucking time,” she yells into the phone.

“Dude, I’m working. I can’t talk. Are you dead or dying or in danger of dying? Is this a legit emergency?”

“Yes, it’s a love life emergency.”

Lord help me. “You don’t have a love life.” Viv is a serial dater. She’s more of a “love the one you’re with” kind of girl.

“I’m reconsidering getting back with David, but I can’t decide, and I need to figure this out before he marries that ginger twatwaffle.”

I laugh and hand Mila something to color while I wrap up this call. Cody is on his fifth train design. It looks like the slug that ate New York is crawling across the paper, complete with one blob that might be a smeared booger.

Turning my head and lowering my voice, I tell Viv I can talk for two minutes, so she’d better hurry.

She dives right into the story. “Do you remember David? Tall, dark, and delicious? My only hesitation is he always has to be on top, and you know I like reverse cowgirl. Oh, and he was boring, but built like a god.”

“I thought you didn’t like him because he’s a mouth-breather.”

“I can get over it. He makes six figures, drives a new BMW, and gets in to all the best clubs. Plus, I hate seeing him with this girl.”

Oh, Viv. “You know as well as I do that those aren’t good reasons for falling in love. The fact that you need a pro-con list should give you your answer.”

“Who says we’re talking about love?” She chuckles. “I can’t help wanting David back now that he’s with someone else. It’s making me reevaluate the things that bugged me about him. Maybe I can get over his mouth-breathing or get him a subscription to some brainy magazine to jumpstart his personality. So,” she adds with a snort, “now that you’re ga-ga for that farm boy, you’re the expert? Let me ask you this. Are you in love with this guy?”

My heart does a pirouette in my chest, the Julie Andrews arms-wide whirl from Sound of Music, at the thought of Ethan. “Yeah,” I whisper, my answer as easy to recognize as a rainbow in the sky after a storm. “I kind of think I am.”

An ear-piercing shriek next to me makes me drop my phone. Mila is wildly shaking her hand, big tears tumbling down her cheeks. “It hurts! Owie! Owie! Owie!”

I uncurl her clenched hand and find an angry red burn and the start of a blister. Damn it. While I was shooting the shit about totally inconsequential things—because, let’s get real, David is not Viv’s long-term paramour on this planet or any other—my sweet Mila burned her hand on the glue gun.

“I’m so sorry, Mila. I should’ve put that dumb thing away.” I yank the offending device out of the wall plug and place it high on the mantel where the kids can’t get it. Leaning over, I scoop her into my arms and rush her to the bathroom where I clean it up.





42





Ethan





Closing the door to Mila’s bedroom, I shuffle down the hall in search of Tori. We should be celebrating tonight, but Mila burned her hand, and Tori was so bummed my daughter got hurt during her watch, she retreated to her room after dinner. But now that the kids are in bed, I want to check on Tori.

Knocking gently on the door, I wait for her to respond before I enter.

I find Tori curled up on her bed. Tears streaking down her face. Cheeks splotchy. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

She sniffles and shakes her head. “Just emotional.”

I kick off my boots and slide in behind her, wrapping her in my arms, taking a second to breathe in the sweet scent of her hair, damp from a shower. “It’s not nothing if it has you in tears.” Reaching back, I pull the comforter over us to warm her up because she’s shivering.

“It’s stupid.”

“You’re a smart woman. Whatever’s making you cry can’t be stupid.”

Her voice, thick with emotion, guts me. “I’m really upset by what happened with Mila—that she burned herself so badly—but I’m also on my period, and that’s why I can’t stop crying. Because what if something worse had happened?”