Page 40 of About that Fling
“The thing about the toilet paper.”
Jenna blinked. “Are you kidding me? The board president is critiquing your parenting now? That wasn’t disparaging. That was a mom joking around about the challenges of raising a preteen.”
“That’s just it, though. I’m a stepparent.” Mia rubbed her hands down her face then turned toward the kitchen. Jenna followed, hating the despair in her friend’s voice. “There are different rules for stepmothers, apparently. Someone forgot to give me the rule book, but I know we’re not allowed to joke about parenting challenges. When bio parents do it, they’re bonding. When stepparents do it, we’re whining. Or worse, we’re maligning kids who don’t truly belong to us. Not really.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Jenna shook her head. They’d reached the kitchen, and she leaned against the counter beside Mia. “I’m sorry, Mia. I think you’re a great stepmom. And you’re going to be a great biological mother, too.”
“Thank you.” Mia managed a small smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I had a rough morning when Katie kissed her dad goodbye and thanked him for packing her lunch and buying her the cool new socks she was wearing, and I just stood there like an idiot biting back the urge to tell her those were things I did. Me. I stayed up late making the damn sandwich with her favorite pastrami and I picked out the socks because I remembered how much she loves pigs.” Mia shook her head. “I didn’t say anything, of course. I know she didn’t mean anything by it. She’s the most polite kid on the planet, and I know she just wanted to thank someone, so she thanked her dad.”
“Did Mark say anything?”
“He started to, but I stopped him. I don’t want to become one of those families where dad’s always ordering the kid to say thank you to the stepmom and the kid ends up feeling guilted into it. It wasn’t worth it. Like I said, I’m just being hormonal.”
“Still, I’m sorry.” Jenna leaned in and gave her a squeeze, breathing in the familiar apricot scent of Mia’s shampoo. “It can’t be easy.”
“I’ll get through it,” Mia said, offering a small smile as she drew back. “Just a few more weeks and the hormones should settle down.” Mia leaned back against the counter, resting her hand over her belly. Her eyes held Jenna’s for a long time, and Jenna felt something shift between them. “I’ve been thinking about you, hon. It’ll be two years this Friday, won’t it?”
Jenna nodded, fighting the surge of emotion that threatened to choke off her airway. “You’re probably the only person in the world who’d remember.”
“It was the day after my mom’s birthday, so that’s probably why. But really, every woman who’s had a miscarriage has the date permanently etched into her brain.” She squeezed Jenna’s hand. “It helps to have a friend help carry the memory.”
Jenna nodded and blinked hard to hold back the threat of tears. “Come on. Let’s drown our sorrows in nachos and bad television.”
“Deal!” Mia spun around and grabbed a bottle of margarita mix from the fridge. Nudging the refrigerator closed with her hip, she bent down and pulled the blender out of a cupboard at her knees. She set it on the counter and turned back to the freezer for ice. “Want me to add tequila to yours?”
“Nah, I’ll go virgin in a show of solidarity.”
Mia laughed and began scooping handfuls of ice into the blender. “Virgin. Right. Speaking of, any word from your mystery guy?”
Jenna forced herself to swallow, keeping her expression as neutral as possible as she moved past Mia to grab a big brick of cheddar from the fridge. “I told you that’s over. It was just a one-time thing.”
Mia shook her head, looking stern. “You don’t just walk away from sex that makes you glow like the way you were that morning. I got a contact high just sitting next to you.”
“The glow doesn’t last forever.” Jenna thunked the cheese down on the counter, deliberately choosing a workspace with her back to Mia so she wouldn’t have to meet her friend’s eyes. “I’ll keep dating, don’t worry. Just not that guy.”
“Suit yourself. I still think that one had potential.”
“Well, I don’t,” Jenna said, hoping she didn’t sound like a petulant toddler. She began to strip the plastic wrapper off the cheese, trying to keep her tone light. “So aside from the snippy comment from Nancy, how do you think the mediation thing is going?”
There was a long silence from Mia, and for a moment, Jenna feared she’d given herself away. Stupid. How obvious to make such an abrupt transition from talk of her one-night stand to a review of Adam’s mediation session?
She glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see she wasn’t the cause of Mia’s distraction. “Damn blender,” Mia muttered, flipping the switch. “I swear, I should have let Adam take this one and just bought a new one when we split. I think this is left over from his college days.” She wiggled the cord and punched a button, and the blender finally whirred to life. She turned back to Jenna, brushing a handful of red hair from her face. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask?”
“Uh, the mediation. How do you think it went?”
“I thought it was productive,” Mia said, jiggling the blender as ice crunched between the blades. “Enlightening. We made a lot of progress, I think. Gotta give props to my ex for that one.”
“Oh?”
Mia blew the hair off her forehead and turned back to the blender. “I guess I should say props to Adam. That man talking about open communication and the value of expressing your feelings sure as hell isn’t the guy I was married to.”
Jenna reached into the cupboard above her head and pulled out the cheese grater, fighting to keep her voice detached and disinterested. “Really? Seems odd someone would have changed that much.”
Mia shrugged and flipped off the blender. “I suppose it’s different when it’s a marriage instead of a corporate negotiation, huh? Instead of colleagues with opposing views, you fall into the role of the shrewish, nagging harpy who’s never satisfied, or the humorless, detached bastard with a selfish streak.”
Jenna nodded and began to grate the cheese, trying to wrap her brain around the idea of Adam as humorless or detached or selfish. The same guy she’d flirted with over phony careers and wine? The same guy who’d taught her communication strategies on a hotel roof? The same guy who’d slid down her body and driven her crazy with his fingers and tongue and?—
“You want the big one?”
