“I’m not gonna fuck this up,” I told the door.
Right then, right there, after last night and that morning, I was as intent on that as I was on giving my son a decent life.
Absolutely.
I shrugged off my wrap and tossed it to the bucket chair. I pulled my phone out of my clutch and my clutch joined the wrap.
Finally, I bent my head to my phone, pulling up Merry’s text string.
Best night I ever had. Thank you, baby.
I stared at it, thumb hovering over the send button.
“I’m not gonna fuck this up,” I told my phone and my thumb hit the screen.
I let out the huge breath I didn’t know I was holding, walked to the door, opened it, locked the storm, closed the door, locked it, then moved back to my bedroom.
I had my dress and shoes off, new undies and jeans on, when my phone I’d tossed on the bed sounded.
I snatched it up.
I’m glad, brown eyes.
I grinned and my thumb moved.
Best morning too, BTW.
I tossed the phone back to my bed and went to my dresser to choose a tee.
I was tugging it on when my phone sounded again.
I went back to it.
That’s my good girl.
I didn’t grin at that.
I shivered.
After I experienced that hint of beauty, my thumb moved again.
Stop turning me on and go fight crime.
I hit send.
I was making coffee when my phone sounded again.
Worth the wait.
I stared at Merry’s text, my eyes feeling funny—not dry and burning, something else—before I lifted my phone and tapped it against my forehead like I could tap the words of his text into my brain.
I brought it down and my thumb flew.
Later, gorgeous.
Not long after, I got back, Absolutely.
I poured my coffee and after, turned my back to the counter and rested against it.
I stared at my awesome kitchen that was full of personality.
And I took that moment to revel in another of the boons life sent my way—boons that were coming far more frequently these days—this being the fact that I was facing the first day in a very long time, riding a quiet high of anticipation for what was to come next.
The day before had been fucked up by me being worried about what Merry would think about Ethan sending that text and not me.
This day, there was nothing to fuck it up.
Nothing.
It was all good and the forecast was strong it would only get better.
I’d never had that either, so I knew to appreciate it.
And that I did.
* * * * *
I heard the knock on the door, and right on its heels, “Mom! It’s Merry! Can I get it?”
I was sitting on the side of my bed, zipping up my boot. I turned my head toward the clock on my nightstand.
Shit, it was five twenty-five.
Merry was early.
“I’ll get it!” I yelled, hurrying with the zip.
“But it’s just Merry!” Ethan yelled back. “I saw him from the window!”
Ethan wasn’t allowed to open the door unless it was to his gramma.
“Right!” I returned, shoving up from the bed. “Get it.”
I was halfway down our short hall when I heard Ethan’s excited, “Hey, Merry!”
“Hey, man.” I heard Merry say back.
I hit the living room to see them breaking their handshake.
Ethan whirled to me.
“Look, Mom! Merry’s here!” he told me, something he’d already told me.
Suffice it to say, when I’d told my kid we were going out to dinner with Merry that night, he’d been in fits of glee.
In fact, he was so excited, he’d even told me he wanted to cancel plans with Teddy so we could all go to the game together and then get ice cream after.
Therefore, the first time in my life acting selfishly with my kid (but also because I didn’t want to push things too hard too fast for Merry, thinking a quick dinner might be better than forcing him to spend hours with Ethan), I’d told him no.
Due to his exhilaration, I’d expected devastation.
But I’d forgotten in his childlike excitement that my kid was growing up. And apparently, part of that was him understanding that Merry and me needed some time just him and me, especially this early with what we were starting.
So Ethan had relented easily.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t jazzed about dinner.
Obviously, seeing as at that moment, he’d totally forgotten to hide his excitement and act the man of the house around Merry.
“I see,” I muttered, moving in and looking to Merry, who stood in the open front door, watching and waiting for me to get to him.
Also watching and waiting for me to give him clues as to how to play this in front of Ethan.
I’d taught him that too, the hard way, and he’d learned, giving me what I needed.
God, Merry.
I moved close, lifted a hand, touched his chest, and held his gaze as I tipped back my chin.
He moved a hand to my waist and bent in, touching his lips to my cheek.
We broke apart.
“You can be gooey,” Ethan declared, and both Merry and I looked to him. “Mom loves gooey. She’d be gooey all the time if I let her,” he went on to share. “With me, she has to cap it. It’ll be good to have another guy around so she can get more shots at bein’ gooey.”
I stared at my son.
Then I said, “Shut up, kid.”
He looked at me, grinning wickedly. “Forget that, Mom.” His eyes went to Merry. “I’m almost eleven,” he announced. “Eleven years, dude, where it’s been just Mom and Gramma and me. They’re ladies. I’ve had no other guy around. They rock, but I’m a guy with two ladies. I think you get me. Now I’ve got a guy. That’s a big thing for me. So, just sayin’, I’m so totally spilling anything you need.” He jerked his thumb at himself and completed his grand offer. “You wanna know, I’m your man.”