Fumbled (Playbook #2)(62)

But that’s not me.

No.

I’m the kind of person who thinks TK had to pick up Ace only because I was being irresponsible and overslept, knowing my kid might need me. The person who cries on a bathroom floor thinking of how much it’s going to hurt when this illusion finally blows up in my face.

So much for enjoying this while it lasts.

“Poppy?” TK knocks on the door.

I clear my throat and scramble off the floor. “Yeah?” I ask, but it’s too high and peppy to sound anything but forced.

“Can I come in?”

“Umm . . .” I look in the mirror, viciously wiping away the tear marks lining my face. “Sure.”

I open the door when I look only a little bit like hell.

“What’s up?” I try to step into the hallway with him, but TK pushes into the bathroom instead.

Now even with Ace, it’s a tight squeeze if we both need to be in the bathroom at the same time. With TK’s giant ass, I feel like we’re at risk of running out of oxygen.

“That’s what I was going to ask you.” No nonsense and straight to the point. “Why were you crying in the bathroom?”

“Crying in the bathroom?” I purse my lips and arch a single eyebrow. “I was not.”

“Poppy.” He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “It’s your move. You don’t like people to see you upset so you hide in the bathroom. You missed half of homecoming sophomore year in the bathroom because that one chick had the same dress as you.”

“It wasn’t just because she had the same dress, TK! Victoria was at the store when I picked my dress. She did it on purpose because she was skinnier than me and had the hots for you. It was an intentional jab!”

Bitch. The dress looked better on me anyways. Orange is my color. She blended into it from all the fake tanner she used.

“So you don’t deny hiding in the bathroom?”

“It wasn’t because I was sad,” I defend myself, though not well. “I was pissed and I couldn’t fight her because I paid for my makeup and hair. I was not letting her ruin it.”

“So you’re pissed now?” he asks, using my words against me.

Sneaky son of a . . .

“No, I’m . . . I mean . . . I’m not pissed,” I stutter.

“So you are sad.”

“No!” I throw up my hands in the air, already exhausted by this conversation. “I’m not pissed or sad. I’m just . . . I don’t even know how to say this.”

“Just say it.”

“I’m just not used to people helping out with Ace, that’s all.” I tell him the simplest version of the garbage running through my mind.

His eyebrows scrunch together and he shakes his head ever so slightly. “Isn’t having help a good thing?”

“Yeah . . . no . . . I don’t know.” I want to sit back down on the floor, but there isn’t enough room for my legs and TK’s feet. “I just like doing stuff for him and I feel like a crap mom for sleeping through your calls.”

“He’s my kid too.” All of a sudden there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there seconds ago. “Maybe I like doing stuff for him and it has nothing to do with you as a mother.” He rubs the back of his neck, and I swear, I can hear his teeth grinding.

“I know that.” I draw out each word. “Why do you think I’m in the bathroom trying to sort out these irrational feelings on my own?”

I wait for some kind of response, any acknowledgment I spoke at all, but I don’t get one.

And to be honest, he’s too grown to pout.

“Listen.” I stand up straight, using my “I mean business” mom voice. “I think we both need to understand this is an adjustment for both of us. I get you want to spend time with him and make up for time lost, but you need to understand that I’ve had him to myself for nine years. Learning to share isn’t easy for me.”

That gets through to him.

“You’re right.” He drags his large, callused hand across his face. “This isn’t even why I came to talk to you.”

“It isn’t?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline again. I swear, a few more days with him and I’m going to have to make a Botox appointment. These surprise lines are gonna settle at some point.

“No.” He reaches out, lacing his fingers in mine. A move that both makes me melt into him and causes my back to go straight in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Probably would’ve been easier if you turned off the light,” I offer.

Helpful? No. Funny? I think so.

I laugh.

TK does not.

“That wasn’t why.” He rolls his eyes and fights a smirk I can tell is tugging at his lips beneath the beard I love even more after last night. “Like I was saying, I didn’t get much sleep thinking about you and Ace being alone in this house with the . . . flower incident.” He drops his voice to a whisper for the last two words. “Then after Coach dismissed us from the hotel this morning and I went to my house that’s way too big for one person anyways . . .” He trails off.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, knowing where he’s going with this. I want to cut him off, but I don’t, if by chance I don’t really know where he’s going with this.