Page 3 of Crave Thy Neighbor

“Sorry,” he mutters. “What time is Dad getting here?”

I glance at the clock on the stove. “He said he’d be here about six thirty.”

“Cool. Can I get ice cream after dinner?”

“You’ll have to ask your father.”

“He’ll say yes. He always does.”

Of course Patrick always says yes to ice cream. He’s the cool parent.

We share custody of Sam. Oftentimes he’ll spend a week at my place and then a week at his father’s.

And oftentimes he’ll come home with shiny new gadgets or telling me about all the cool stuff he did with his dad.

I try not to be jealous of all the things Patrick can provide, but it’s hard sometimes.

“Just make sure if you’re going to play your game, you’re doing it out here. I know how wrapped up in it you can get, and I don’t need your father knocking on the door for several minutes disturbing the neighbors.”

I’ve received that complaint before from the always-angry lady next door, and I don’t care to get it again. I have other things to be worried about.

“I will.”

“Good.” I press my hands against my stomach. “Okay, how do I look?”

I opted for a simple yet trendy outfit for the night out: an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved silky dark pink blouse plucked straight from a mannequin at the small boutique I work at, a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans, and black booties. It’s nothing that will turn heads, but it’s cute enough to get me through a couple of hours with my friends as we nurse a drink or two and complain about life.

“Beautiful.”

I grin at him because he’s not saying it to be a kiss-ass. He’s just that sweet. “That’s why you’re my favorite kid.”

“I’m youronlykid.” He sighs like he’s exhausted by me.

“Thank god, too. I couldn’t handle another one of you.” I cross the room and wrap my arms around him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He grumbles, trying to wiggle out of my embrace. “Love you. Be good for your dad. Text me when he picks you up, please.”

Patrick’s supposed to do that too, but he always forgets.

Sam never does.

“Love you too,” he mutters, and I tousle his hair as he tries to shove my hand away, but I don’t miss the grin forming at the corners of his mouth.

He might almost be thirteen and is convinced he’s a grown-up, but he’s a momma’s boy at heart. He always has been. We bonded during all the years I stayed at home with him.

I grab my purse off the hook by the door and slip it over my body, then give myself one more glance in the mirror.

I tousle my own hair and smooth down my shirt again.

Eh, good enough.

I’m not trying to impress anyone tonight. I just want to drink and have fun with River.

I need a break. Need to let loose.

I will not think about how I only have weeks to find a place to live.

Drinks. I need drinks.

I’ve known River White since we were eight years old. We’ve been best friends since the day she moved into the house next door and have been through every major life event together. We run a business together. See each other almost every day.

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