Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game(35)

Things were tense between us in many ways. Some days she cooked breakfast for me, and we made small talk over pancakes or French Toast. She always tip-toed on eggshells around the subject of Jake, but eventually she always brought him up. I could tell Mom was worried to death about me. There were the sleepless nights, sheets drenched in sweat, and dark circles under my eyes from the nightmares that she pretended not to notice to let me save face.

But there was also something else—a thickness hung heavy in the air weird hanging in the air—like something dark looming over the horizon with him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and to put it bluntly, I was freakin’ tired of playing Sherlock Holmes all the time.

So instead of feeling like I had the f**king rug jerked out from under me, I should have been prepared for what happened on Wednesday afternoon. But I wasn’t. The moment I breezed through the garage door after work, heavenly aromas filled my nostrils. I gazed around the kitchen, and I saw something truly shocking. Not only was Mom home relatively early, but she was cooking.

And not just that. She was taking bread out of the oven. Homemade bread. Oh, something was definitely going on.

“Hey sweetie,” Mom said.

“Hi,” I replied hesitatively. I glanced past her into the dining room where the table was set conspicuously for three. “What’s going on?” I asked.

Mom laughed. “It’s called dinner, Noah.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know that. It’s just you very rarely cook, least of all set the dining room table.”

Mom didn’t answer me. Instead, she slipped on some oven mittens and grabbed the lasagna off the counter. I followed close on her heels into the dining room. “So, I’m gonna ask one more time. What the hell is going on?”

She whirled around. “Language, Noah!”

Geez, she sounded just like Maddie. I couldn’t catch a break. When Mom started back into the kitchen, I stepped in front of her. She sighed. “All right fine. I need to talk to you about something.”

She ushered me into the living room. I side stepped the now infamous couch and plopped down into the chair.

Mom stared at me before drawing in a deep breath. “Noah, Greg has asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes.”

The wind left my body in a long, exaggerated whoosh. Kinda like the time I fell off the monkey bars in first grade. Well, I didn’t actually fall. Jake pushed me off because I was taking too long to get across them, but that was another story. “Wait, what?”

Mom fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “I’m engaged to Greg.”

Christ Almighty, could this be happening at a worse time? “When did he ask you?”

“A couple days ago.”

My gaze flickered toward the ceiling as I tried taking a few calming breaths.

“Noah?”

“Huh?”

“There’s something else.”

I met her gaze. “You mean something even better than you’re getting married?”

She winced before lowering her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

I tore out of the chair in an instant. “You’re what?”

Peeking up at me through her eyelashes, she murmured, “You heard me.”

Oh no. Oh, hell no. This couldn’t be happening. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d found another man? Now she was going to have another kid. I was practically being phased out of my own family.

“When are you due?” I demanded.

“October.”

My eyes widened. “Bullshit! You’re that far along, and you didn’t think you should tell me?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” she replied. She stood up and slowly stepped over to me. “Honey, I know you’re upset.”

“Really? What makes you say that?” I snapped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but at my age, I wanted to make sure everything was okay before I told you. Then just as I got the green-light out of my first trimester and with the Amnio, Jake got killed, and I didn’t want to spring it on you then.” When I refused to acknowledge her, she sighed exasperatedly. “Noah Andrew Sullivan, stop acting like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum and talk to me about what you’re feeling!”

I snorted as I jerked my head up to glare at her. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I’m being ‘childish’. It’s just I’m not really sure how to act when I get the f**king rug snatched out from under me!”

“Nothing will change between you and me—”

“Are you shitting me? Everything will change! How can you be so blind as to why I’m not thrilled at your news? Of course, after it’s just been the two of us all these years, I want you to bring a total stranger into our house and into our lives. What could be better? No wait, there’s more? Ah, you’re going to have another kid. Fabulous! Then you’ll have a whole new family. Even better, maybe it’ll be a boy, and then you won’t even need me!”

My two-year-old tantrum had turned into an acid filled teenage rant. I truly felt shitty when Mom’s chin trembled. “The Amnio showed it’s a girl,” she said softly.

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” I snapped.

The tears pooling in Mom’s blue eyes spilled over her cheeks. Although I did feel instant regret for hurting her feelings, the sadistic part of me was glad she was able to see how much I was hurting. In the end, I didn’t know why I was being such an ass, but just the very thought of her being pregnant infuriated me.