The Fix (The Carolina Connections, #1)(33)

“Fuck you. What time do we have to be there?”





Chapter Twelve





We’ve All Got Our Own Brand of Crazy





LANEY

“I got an email today that I know was from you, but the sender was ‘Mommy Buttlover’? What the fuck?” That was Fiona’s greeting when I called her to fret about Nate that afternoon. She was trying not to laugh and doing a piss-poor job at it.

“Christ on a cracker—I know. I'm going to kill Gavin. No one will recognize his body. He had Rocco tell Siri to call me ‘Mommy Buttlover’ from now on instead of ‘Laney,’ and it changed my outgoing email identifier! I replied to just about everyone in my address book today about a birth announcement. Everyone is going to see that ‘Mommy Buttlover’ thinks the baby looks just like his daddy. God, how embarrassing!”

“Not to mention confusing.” She was cackling by this point and I couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit.

“I hate my life,” I managed.

“No you don’t. Your life is great—awesome kid, cute house, sadistic brother … what more could you ask for? Except maybe … hot construction guy?” I could see I wouldn’t have to introduce the real reason for the call. She knew me too well.

“I’m starting to think hot construction guy is going to be a part of my life whether I want him to be or not.”

“I knew it, I knew it,” she sing-songed loudly in my ear.

“We totally made out again in my kitchen and he asked me to have dinner with his parents tomorrow,” I blurted out.

Silence.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I stated more than asked.

“Well, the making out part isn’t weird at all—in fact, that part is dreamy—and please tell me you got to touch his butt and it was as perfect as it looks.”

“Yes, and hell yes.”

“I knew it!” The song was back.

“Okay, shut up. The make-out session was so hot I can’t even begin to describe it accurately. My breasts physically swelled—I didn’t even know that could happen. But the dinner thing is stressing me out!”

“All right, calm down. How exactly did he ask you? Was he like, ‘Hey, Laney, since we made out a couple times and we’re clearly getting married why don’t you come meet Mom and Dad tomorrow and then we can make beautiful babies together?’ or was it more like, ‘Hey, I’m going over to my parents’ to grab a bite. Wanna come?’”

“I guess it was more like the second one. He invited Rocco and Gavin too.”

“Then what are you stressing about? I think it’s sweet.”

“You do? You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You worry too much. Go and have fun and then report back to me. Now get back to Nate’s ass—I need more details!”

“Why is it we never talk about your love life?”



After the whole Siri debacle, it wasn’t too hard to guilt Gavin into coming to dinner at the Murphy’s. It did involve free food, after all, but I neglected to warn him about Mrs. Murphy’s supposedly horrific cooking. Can you blame me? I fed Rocco a sandwich before we left so he would be all set—Gavin could fend for himself.

I was a little distracted on the drive over. Charlotte and I had met up that morning at a nearby park and I’d been hoping Rocco would play with Aiden, but he mostly just asked me to swing him on the swings while Aiden ran around shooting imaginary villains and mounting attacks from the top of the monkey bars. Charlotte and I had a nice time talking and I was liking her more and more—now if I could only get our kids to be friends.

Feeling a bit down from the park, I’d called my mom to catch up and see if she could offer me some reassurance. She was aware of Rocco’s little idiosyncrasies, having lived with him since his birth. I filled her in about the nose thing and his recent behavior.

“I feel like it’s getting worse since we moved to the new house.” I didn’t want to say, “since you moved away” because it was definitely not her cross to bear—she’d gone above and beyond as a grandparent. “And now his teachers are concerned.”

“Sweetie, all moms worry about their kids. Rocco’s not even going into real school until next year—a lot can change in a year. And might I remind you of another person in our family who has a little habit of her own—someone who rubs her face when she’s stressed?”

Oh yeah, why didn’t I think of that? Well, poop, it looked like I’d passed down more of my own issues to the poor kid than I realized.

“And, besides, kids are just small adults—have you ever met an adult who was normal? Of course not. We all have our own brand of crazy. Just love him and that’s all you can do,” she said.

“I just can’t help but feel like I’ve done this to him. I deprived him of a father by being irresponsible and I moved him away from people he loves. And now it looks like I gave him a tic for God’s sake!” It felt both good and awful to say it out loud.

“Laney, all parents second-guess themselves and feel ‘less than’ at times. And we all make mistakes. I've never told anyone this, but I dropped your brother on his head when he was about two months old—smack on top of his soft little head!”