Page 69 of Play Dirty

“Harper loves it there!” Chey chimes in. “And the queso is really good.”

“I’m always down for good queso,” Stevie says, nodding. “Let me just change shirts and we can go.”

“Have fun, you two!” Chey calls out.

I follow Stevie back up the stairs.

“Bring an overnight bag,” I say softly, leaning against the wall as she puts on a light blue T-shirt that covers a bit more than her tank top.

“What?” She glances up, knitting her brows together slightly.

“If we’re doing this, then we need to be able to have sleepovers at my place too.”

“What about the kids?”

“I can hear them if they need me. I still have monitors in their rooms.”

She opens her mouth but then closes it again, giving me a little nod.

“That’s going to take me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need—just bring something to sleep in. That’s the only thing that sucks about being a parent, not being able to sleep naked.”

She laughs. “I don’t even get to sleep naked here.”

Chapter22

Stevie

Marty’s momleaves on Sunday, and it’s actually a little emotional saying goodbye at the airport. She’s one of those moms who’s awesome. She’s not an old lady, the kind you see on old-fashioned TV shows, who wear house dresses and spend all day cooking and cleaning, but she does a lot of loving and doting and caretaking. That’s the only way to describe it. And it’s not just about the kids.

Marty is her son first—that’s plain as day when they’re together. When she gently brushes his hair out of his eyes or makes him a special French toast recipe that the kids obviously hate, even though it means more work because she still has to feed the kids. Her thoughtfulness when it comes time to talk to Brenna every night, despite the fact that she definitely doesn’t like her. And her willingness to accept me into the fold without hesitation.

My own mother is very…complicated. Because I’m successful with a career and money, she doesn’t believe in mothering. Not in the traditional sense of the word. She never did. Occasionally, she’ll show up for events, proudly boasting that she’s Stevie Marchand’s mom, but when it comes to the emotional or hands-on stuff? Not so much.

Of course, part of that is because of the falling out we had when my sister Jeri married my fiancé. Well, he wasn’t my fiancé anymore at that point, but everyone acted like it wasn’t a big deal and I was the one overreacting. I’d been young, only twenty, and it was the worst kind of betrayal.

We didn’t talk for years but after the incident that almost killed me, she and my sister both made an effort to rebuild things. Not that they sat at my bedside or anything; Mom didn’t even find out I’d had a hysterectomy until nearly a month after the surgery. Didn’t know that I almost died. Literally would not have seen me in almost six years if I’d died that day.

My sister is no longer married to my ex—he dumped her a year after the wedding—and she did a few virtual therapy sessions with me, but I don’t know that we’ll ever be close again. And my mother just puts in the very minimum amount of effort required to keep up appearances. Which is fine with me. I don’t have the patience for her anyway.

So having a family has always been a big priority for me.

I didn’t realize how much I liked having Patty around until she left, and we’re all fairly quiet in the car after we drop her off.

“We should go to that water park,” I suggest. “Who wants to go to the water park?”

“Yes!” Martin bounces up and down in his seat.

“Yay!” Emma probably doesn’t completely understand what that is but nods enthusiastically.

“Wump wump!” Bradley holds up his sippy cup.

Marty, however, gives me the side eye. “We’ll need to go home and pack first. We can’t just go…”

“I know.” I reach over and squeeze his thigh. “Don’t worry. I’ll help. And it’ll be a good way to get their minds off missing Grandma.”

He smiles. “I’m game, I just don’t think you understand the level of supervision required.”

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