Reckless

“Like this?” Mila asks, her face a mask of seriousness.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re doing great.”

We’re sitting in the family room with a mountain of art and craft supplies. I’m showing her how to make dolls with some artificial flowers, wire, and yarn I found in the sewing room. I made her one the other day, and she loved it, so I thought we could do them together this afternoon to take her mind off her parents, who have that court date to settle their finances.

I didn’t think Ethan told Mila he was going before a judge again today, but when she saw him wearing a suit and tie this morning, I got the feeling she understood he was headed to another serious adult meeting. Kids are so smart. They always sense what’s going on, even if they’re not told.

Making dolls is a great distraction for me too because whenever I think about what today could mean for Ethan, I want to hurl. Ethan talked to Allison for an hour on the phone yesterday, trying to get her to consider the co-op plan I suggested. I could hear bits and pieces from the kitchen, and as much as I tried not to let it bother me, by the end of the convo when Ethan was laughing and sweet, where I could tell she had chilled out and they were getting along, a hot streak of jealousy shot through me.

Deep down, I don’t want them to argue. For the sake of the kids and Ethan’s sanity, I can appreciate how much better their lives will be if everyone gets along.

But there’s a teeny, tiny part that wants Ethan and Allison to stay far, far away from each other.

Like maybe on different continents.

Squinting out the big picture window, I don’t see the giant oak or the rolling hills beyond the ranch’s sprawling front yard. The sounds of the children fade away, replaced with Jamie’s private conversations over a year ago. The ones he’d dart into the other room to take, talking in hushed tones. His muffled laughter making me realize only after the fact that he was never talking to contractors or his parents or friends. I was just too naive and stupid to see the truth.

Thanks for fucking with my head, douchebag.

But I’ve learned from my mistakes.

The biggest mistake was letting that breakup break me. Letting it derail me so much that I failed out of school. How on God’s green planet did I give another person so much control over my life?

Maybe it’s all this fresh air and country living or being away from Austin and the scene of the crime, but it’s so obvious to me that I was too trusting. Worse, though? I didn’t trust myself afterward.

There’s one thing I really need to do for myself right now. If Ethan can go through this horrid divorce and come out in one piece with this awesome business and his amazing family, what the hell is holding me back from finishing my degree? I have two classes—not rocket science telemetry or neurosurgery or decoding hieroglyphs. Surely I can handle two freaking undergrad courses. I’ve saved up enough money this summer to afford them, so I really have no excuse.

I decide right here and now.

This fall, come hell or high water, I’m getting my degree. For myself. Not because my parents are nagging me to do it or because I’ve disappointed my sister or because my boyfriend might be embarrassed that I failed out. For me. To have something I’ve completed that I’m proud of.

Cody pops his head up over the coffee table. “Wook, Toh-wi. Ahhh cuh-lah good.”

God, I love this kid. I hold up my hand for a high five.

“You sure do color good, bud.” I’m delighted that Cody’s talking to me more now. It took a while because even though I knew he liked me, he was a bit shy. “Is that Thomas?” This child is obsessed with trains.

“Yup!”

“Is that what you want for your birthday? A train theme?” Cody’s birthday is in a few weeks, and his dad kissed the hell out of me the other day when I told him I could plan Cody’s party for him.

I’m sure Cody hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about other than we’re discussing trains, which gets me a happy, drooly nod.

Hopefully, my sister will see what an outstanding job I can do with a two-year-old’s birthday party since I’m not allowed to plan her baby shower. Our cousin is coordinating it. Cousin! Where’s the loyalty? No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it or the fact it’s next weekend. Kat claims it’s because I’m already working so hard on Ethan’s ranch. Pfft. I might have to stick a red sock in her whites the next time I do her laundry.

I made one teeny mistake with those bachelorette gifts years ago and I’m still banned from coordinating the festivities. It’s not like I was planning to whip up a dildo cake or anything. Though that would be funny. We could celebrate the fertilization. My parents would die. I laugh to myself.

Kat doesn’t know it yet, but I am totally planning her kid’s first birthday party. It’ll be so much fun, her kid will be farting fairy dust by the end of it.

Mila holds out the small wire figure. “I’m ready for the next part.”

“Awesome. Now keep it still, okay? This is tricky, but I think you can handle it.” I stretch over to the end of the coffee table and retrieve the hot glue gun. “Careful, okay? I’ll put the glue on, but don’t touch it because it’s really hot.”

She gives me a serious nod, and I wait for her to settle the materials in front of me. Leaning forward, I lay down a strip of oozy clear gel. “This will be the prettiest doll ever.” She hands me the flower, and I adhere it to the wire frame, pinching it tight.

When she doesn’t chirp back with her usual enthusiasm, I nudge her with my elbow. “What’s going on in your big brain?” The kid’s obviously thinking really hard over there.

“Um. Nothing.” I wait her out. Finally, she sighs. “Just, I was wondering…” I give her an encouraging smile. Mila could ask me for almost anything, and I’d try to make it happen. “Could we maybe give this one to my mommy?”

“Of course.” I might have my differences with Allison, but I want Mila to feel loved and appreciated, and if that means playing nice with her mother, I’ll gladly do it, even if that woman makes me want to punch her in the throat sometimes. A lopsided grin spreads on her face, and I wrap her in a hug. “You’re the most thoughtful girl ever.”

“You’re the bestest babysitter ever.”

I smile, knowing she means that in the most complimentary way possible even though the word ‘babysitter’ feels as good as rolling around in a bed of pinecones.

Because it’s so transitory. Temporary. Babysitters come and go, and I hope I end up meaning more to these kids than a blurry memory from when they were young.

Ugh, I must be PMSing. Take a chill pill, Tori.

My cell buzzes on the table. Vivian’s name pops up, and I send it to voice mail.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” Mila scrunches her brows.

“Nah. I’ll call her back tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to give you and Cody all of my attention during the day.” I boink her on her nose, expecting a laugh but getting a sigh instead.

“Mommy talks on the phone. Like all weekend.”

Ah, my little tattletale. “Maybe they’re important calls? Like to your grandparents?” Who I’ve heard are assholes, but again, not my business.

That gets me a shrug.

My phone buzzes with a text message from Viv. Call me back asap!

Six texts later, including one that screams, 911! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NOW, I finally give in.

“It’s about fucking time,” she yells into the phone.

“Dude, I’m working. I can’t talk. Are you dead or dying or in danger of dying? Is this a legit emergency?”

“Yes, it’s a love life emergency.”

Lord help me. “You don’t have a love life.” Viv is a serial dater. She’s more of a “love the one you’re with” kind of girl.

“I’m reconsidering getting back with David, but I can’t decide, and I need to figure this out before he marries that ginger twatwaffle.”

I laugh and hand Mila something to color while I wrap up this call. Cody is on his fifth train design. It looks like the slug that ate New York is crawling across the paper, complete with one blob that might be a smeared booger.

Turning my head and lowering my voice, I tell Viv I can talk for two minutes, so she’d better hurry.

She dives right into the story. “Do you remember David? Tall, dark, and delicious? My only hesitation is he always has to be on top, and you know I like reverse cowgirl. Oh, and he was boring, but built like a god.”

“I thought you didn’t like him because he’s a mouth-breather.”

“I can get over it. He makes six figures, drives a new BMW, and gets in to all the best clubs. Plus, I hate seeing him with this girl.”

Oh, Viv. “You know as well as I do that those aren’t good reasons for falling in love. The fact that you need a pro-con list should give you your answer.”

“Who says we’re talking about love?” She chuckles. “I can’t help wanting David back now that he’s with someone else. It’s making me reevaluate the things that bugged me about him. Maybe I can get over his mouth-breathing or get him a subscription to some brainy magazine to jumpstart his personality. So,” she adds with a snort, “now that you’re ga-ga for that farm boy, you’re the expert? Let me ask you this. Are you in love with this guy?”

My heart does a pirouette in my chest, the Julie Andrews arms-wide whirl from Sound of Music, at the thought of Ethan. “Yeah,” I whisper, my answer as easy to recognize as a rainbow in the sky after a storm. “I kind of think I am.”

An ear-piercing shriek next to me makes me drop my phone. Mila is wildly shaking her hand, big tears tumbling down her cheeks. “It hurts! Owie! Owie! Owie!”

I uncurl her clenched hand and find an angry red burn and the start of a blister. Damn it. While I was shooting the shit about totally inconsequential things—because, let’s get real, David is not Viv’s long-term paramour on this planet or any other—my sweet Mila burned her hand on the glue gun.

“I’m so sorry, Mila. I should’ve put that dumb thing away.” I yank the offending device out of the wall plug and place it high on the mantel where the kids can’t get it. Leaning over, I scoop her into my arms and rush her to the bathroom where I clean it up.