Page 29 of Play Dirty

I forget about Damien and therapy and even the haunted house debacle.

There’s nothing but the wind in my hair and the joyous laughter of the little boy next to me.

So much so I don’t even think about the fact that I’ll never have children of my own.

Chapter9

Marty

I thinkabout Stevie’s panic attack a lot the next few days. She was fine once she rode on the teacups with Martin, and the rest of the night was great. But she’s obviously dealing with a lot, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like that she trusted me to get her out of the house of horrors. That she didn’t protest when I lifted her in my arms. Or how good it felt when we held hands.

I can’t remember the last time Brenna and I held hands. She was never one for handholding or cuddling. Apparently, just nude photos for her affair partner.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, I see her name flash on the screen of my phone. The kids have just finished breakfast and I’m planning to go out to the pool with them.

I pick up the phone and brace myself. “Hi.”

We never have good conversations anymore, not even when it’s just about the kids.

“Why didn’t you call me last night before they went to bed?” she demands by way of greeting.

“Because we didn’t get home from the carnival until eight, they were all overtired, and by the time I gave them baths and got Brad settled, it was midnight your time.”

“It’s not like I have a curfew,” she snaps.

“No, but they were tired and cranky.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have kept them out so late.”

I grit my teeth, trying to keep things civil. My lawyer said not to engage when she gets like this.

“Do you want to talk to them now?” I ask instead.

“Yes.”

“Emma, Mommy’s on the phone.”

Emma grabs the phone from me. “Hi, Mommy! I have a lighted wand and a four-hundred-pound hipp-opossum-mus. And Auntie Stevie braided my hair! Do you like braids, Mommy?”

I mentally wince.

I’m going to get an earful about Auntie Stevie.

“I didn’t like the corny dog but the fucky cake was yummy.”

I nearly groan.

“Is that Mommy?” Martin snatches the phone from Emma, who immediately starts crying. Any time Emma cries, Bradley makes it his mission in life to cry louder so now I have two of them to comfort while Martin leaves the room with my phone.

This is going to be a disaster, but I don’t have a choice since I’m trying to console two hysterical children.

As much as I love my kids, I’m beginning to see how difficult it is to take care of them on my own. Brenna had more help than I do right now, but she also had more responsibility. Getting them to school, doctors, and other engagements. Bradley didn’t sleep through the night for almost a year so that was hard too. And then I’d sweep in on random days off wanting to do fun stuff while she just wanted to rest. Have a little time to herself.

It doesn’t excuse cheating, but it gives me a lot to think about.

Emma finally calms down when I let her have a popsicle, Bradley is distracted by a bottle, and I finally go in search of Martin.

He’s sitting on the floor of his room still talking.

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