Page 66 of The Wedding Planner's Manny
“Promise!” Caleb demanded, still scowling.
“Promise,” Laura returned, and then, finally, I managed to drag our boy away from her. But even though his hands let loose, his heart didn't. The moment Laura turned away from him, he started crying
—and not softly, either, nope, full-out bawling. I picked him up in my arms and held him as he sobbed, tears and snot soaking my shirt. It wasn't pretty, but real parenting rarely was. For now, all I wanted was for Caleb to know that he had someone who would be there for him, even if his mother was flaky and unreliable.
Laura watched me silently as I stroked our son's hair. She didn't move from her spot, and I couldn't tell what was going through her mind. Did she even realize that she was the one who caused our child all this pain? Did she even care? Or was she only here because she'd crashed and she needed someone to pick up the pieces again?
I prayed it wasn't the latter, but I wasn't holding out much hope.
In my arms, Caleb raised his head, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw what he was looking at.
Rhys was standing by the door. “Where did Nathan go?” I asked, turning to him.
“He's in his room. He doesn't want to talk right now.”
I nodded. That was about what I'd expected.
“The dog's with him, though,” Rhys added.
“You got a dog?” Laura asked.
I ignored her. “Could you take Caleb?” I asked Rhys. The boy had quieted down a bit by now, and I knew he'd be fine with Rhys while I talked to Laura somewhere else.
“Sure.” Rhys looked at Caleb. “You want to go unwrap some presents, birthday boy?”
Caleb nodded and didn't protest when I handed him over to his manny. I was guessing that he'd tired himself out now and the only thing keeping him awake was all the sugar he'd ingested.
“Who is that omega?” Laura demanded to know as Rhys walked away with our son.
“My manny,” I said, because that was all she needed to know for now.
“You're into him, aren’t you?”
“That's really none of your concern.”
“Your eyes lingered on his butt as he walked out. You've always been a butt guy. Is that bun in his oven yours?”
“It’s not.”
“But you’d like it to be. I can see right through you, Ethan.”
“What happens between Rhys and me is none of your fucking business. And we're not going to be talking here. C'mon.” I left the family room, passed the hallway and walked out into the yard. The sky was gray and the wind biting, but I didn't care. I had a feeling this conversation was going to get us both boiling over soon enough.
She closed the door to the house behind herself and then she started in on me again. As if I was the one who's behavior needed to be justified. “Of course it concerns me,” she claimed. “I'm yourwife!
And you're fucking the man who's supposed to be your babysitter. How can you trust a slutty omega like that with our children?”
How dare she call Rhys slutty? “Do you know why I trust him? Because he's been here while you weren't around—which is exactly the reason I even needed a manny in the first place!”
“I only left because you never wanted me around in the first place! We only ever fought anymore! It wasn't good for the kids!”
“Don't you for a moment try to pretend you care about the children. If you did, you would never have left! Not like that! They had no idea where you were! For a year! You didn't even call!” I'd raised my voice now. I'd known I wouldn't be able to keep from doing that. It was why I'd relocated us to the yard for this conversation. Laura was right; the kids had heard us fight often enough.
“I thought the separation would be easier for the children if they weren't reminded of me.”
“Easier for the children or easier for you?” I called her out on her bullshit. “You were the one who wanted to leave. The kids never wanted you to go, but you wanted to be a famous artist more than you wanted to be a mother. More than you wanted to be my wife, for that matter. I'm asking for a divorce.”
I'd been wanting that for a while now, but it was hard to get someone to sign papers when you didn't know where they were.
