Leaning my head back, I look up at the ceiling and close my eyes, praying to get struck by lightning. When that doesn’t happen, I give up and head for my room to get ready. Finally, after pulling almost every single item of clothing out of my closet, I settle on sneakers, worn jeans that had gotten too tight for me but now fit me comfortably, my warm, light grey sweater, and my thin black raincoat.
I kept telling myself while I was getting ready that it didn’t matter at all what I wore, or if I had on mascara. All we were doing was going fishing. Although, I couldn’t stop feeling like it was important to make a good impression on Zach’s children. Just the thought of meeting them has my hands becoming sweaty and my stomach knotting once more. I really don’t know if I will be able to deal with meeting them, knowing who their mother is and who Zach used to be to me.
“Mom, are you ready?” Hunter yells, breaking into my thoughts as I zip up my jacket.
“I’m coming. I hope you have on something warm. It can get cold out on the water,” I yell back, while tying my hair into a ponytail and leaving the room.
“Is this warm enough?” he asks when I walk into the kitchen, where he’s finishing off his half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal wearing a hoodie and jeans.
“Yes, but bring your raincoat just in case,” I say, and he rolls his eyes, looking like a teenager instead of a boy.
Dropping his bowl in the sink, he mutters, “I’ll go grab it,” before running off and returning a moment later, out of breath, with his coat in his hand. “Are you ready?” he asks again, and I smile at him, shaking my head.
“Let’s go.” I swing out my hand, following him out of the house and down the front steps. Zach and his kids are waiting next to a large red four-door truck surrounded by fishing poles and tackle boxes. As soon as Zach sees us coming, his eyes sweep over me and his lips tilt up at the corners.
“Aubrey, Steven, this is Shelby and her boy, Hunter,” Zach says, introducing us and placing his hand on each of his kids’ shoulders once we’re close.
“Nice to meet you guys.” I smile, or try to, as I study them. I can’t help but wonder if Samuel would have looked like them or like Hunter when he was their age. Then I wonder if Zach thought the same thing when he met Hunter for the first time.
“Hi.” Aubrey smiles softly, looking like a beautiful version of her dad, with long dark hair, fair skin, and green eyes that are striking against her pale skin.
“Hey,” Steven mutters, and now that we’re close, I notice he does look a lot like his mom. His blond hair is a little too long and his blue eyes look to be in teenaged turmoil.
“Let’s get the truck packed up, guys,” Zach says, and Steven’s eyes move to him and narrow.
“I still don’t know why I couldn’t go fishing with my friends,” he grumbles, leaning back against the truck behind him. “Mom said it was okay with her.”
“It’s not Mom’s night, bud. This is my only day off this week, so you’re gonna have to make plans with your friend another time,” Zach replies, with a warning twinge in his tone as he studies his son.
“Whatever,” Steven returns, pushing off the truck and effectively dismissing his father’s words as he moves to pick up one of the tackle boxes from the ground.
“Watch the attitude,” Zach warns, locking his firm stare on his boy, who shakes his head in response and stomps off to the back of the truck without another word.
“I told him to make plans with Mike tomorrow,” Aubrey says softy, and her dad nods once then looks at me.
“Will you be warm enough?” he asks.
“I… I think so, yeah,” I reply, hearing Hunter laugh from my side.
“Good, Hop in. We’ll take my truck.”
“Um…” I pause. “I need to stop and get us fishing licenses, so we can just meet you wherever your boat is.”
“We’ll stop and pick them up on the way,” he interjects, his attention moving to Hunter. “Let’s get the stuff loaded, kid.” Before I can say anything else, he turns away with Hunter following him. They both work to lug our stuff to the back of the truck, leaving me standing there with Aubrey.
“Ignore Steven,” she whispers. “He always thinks Dad is the bad guy, but he’s not. Mom just lets him do whatever he wants.”
“Oh,” I whisper back, unsure what else to say, since I have the same problem with my ex.
“Our mom is always doing things like that.” She shakes her head, opening the back door of the truck, putting one foot up high, lifting herself into the cab to look down at me, smiling over the top of the door. “You can ride shotgun with Dad.”
“Great.” I smile back, feigning happiness, and open the passenger door. As I climb into the seat, I wonder how the hell I ended up here, not finding the answer, even as I sit next to Zach on the way to the store.
“You need a year license,” Zach says from my side, and I close my eyes in frustration. When I open them back up, I ask, “Where are the kids?” while ignoring his comment.
“Hi, Sheriff Watters.” The woman behind the counter beams at Zach like he’s part of the newest boy band and I hand her the papers I just filled out.
“Hey, Sally.” He lifts his chin and looks at me.
“The kids are picking out junk food,” he says, motioning for Sally to hand him the papers I just handed to her. Then he takes the pen out of my hand and scratches out the box for the daily licenses and checks the one for the year. “Thanks.” He smiles, making her blush as he hands her back the papers.