Page 28 of Every Little Kiss
“And that would be me?”
Liv was still thinking about what Avery had said when she pulled up to the park. One glance out the window told her that she’d need more than a binder and a little magic if Paxton was ever going to find his permanent smile.
In the distance, she spotted a group of kids in blinking tennis shoes and brightly colored capes racing around in circles playing a complicated version of freeze tag with lightsabers and balloons. Their laughter carried throughout the park and penetrated Liv’s chest, swelling up until she wanted to cry.
Oh, Pax,she thought helplessly, watching her little boy in his red Superboy cape and brave smile, pacing the perimeter of the park—all alone.
Where was his team? And where were the counselors? And why weren’t the other mothers getting involved?
If that hadn’t been her son wandering alone, Liv would have pulled Paxton aside and told him to invite the new kid into the group. But the CMOs just stood at the other side of the parking lot in coordinated sports tops, grouped around their hubby-maintained SUVs, talking about the latest trick to get kids to eat broccoli.
Liv wanted to call bullshit.
The superhero camp brochure promised positive social interaction, team building, and fun. Lots of fun for all. Even the shy ones. The only thing Liv saw was one big suckfest!
Unfortunately, Paxton agreed. His posture said it all as his blinking shoes scuffed the ground, while he held Superdog Stan to his chest as if it was his only friend in the whole world. It wouldn’t be so bad if Paxton preferred to be the lone wolf, but he didn’t. Her son was bright and beautiful and craved connection.
He just didn’t know how to go about it.
The camp counselor, Captain Jason, a local firefighter dressed in a costume that was somewhere between Hercules and George Jetson, called them in, and the kids went rushing to the picnic area, which was decorated to look like the Hall of Justice. Captain Jason handed out red and blue handkerchiefs, dividing the group into two.
One by one the kids took a side until there was only Paxton left. His eyes were big with want, but when Captain Jason held up the two handkerchiefs, Paxton froze.
“You got it, baby. Just point to the red one.” Liv knew he wanted the red one—red was Superdog’s color—but he didn’t even move when Jason waved it his way.
Liv opened the door, ready to scream that he wanted red, when she paused.
One of the other boys, Tommy, a neighborhood kid with whom Paxton sometimes shared comic books, grabbed the red handkerchief and waved him over. Liv held her breath as Paxton picked up the pace and raced across the field. But instead of standing next to Tommy, her son took the material and then stood a few feet behind. Holding himself apart from the group.
Liv glanced at the moms on the other side of the parking lot, and a wealth of guilt welled up, filling her chest until all the denial and anger and helplessness she’d clung to spilled out, leaving nothing but acceptance.
And the reality that maybe the girls were right. She’d been so busy watching out for Paxton, she hadn’t realized that Paxton had been watching her.
Liv had moved him here so her son could grow up in the town his father loved. In a place that valued family and friendship. Yet neither of them had allowed themselves to enjoy everything Sequoia Lake had to offer. They’d been too busy trying to survive to have fun.
And they both desperately needed to stretch their wings and find some fun.
Liv glanced in the rearview mirror and cringed at the woman she saw looking back. The messy bun, the tired eyes, the hollow smile. And the wrinkles.
She leaned forward to inspect her forehead. When had those appeared?
Fingers on her temples, she tugged and tugged until they flattened out, and then she smiled her brightest smile.
“Now you just look scared.” She let go and watched them bounce back into place, cursing gravity.
Riffling through her purse, she applied a layer of lip gloss, then let her hair free from the messy bun and narrowed her eyes—getting up close and personal with herself. “Your son needs to be a warrior, so time to get busy fixing that.”
Liv gave her hair a little fluff and put a welcoming smile on her face. She was done hoping and praying for tomorrow to be better, so she was going to bring the better.
Feeling stronger, she hopped out of the car, and when her foot hit the asphalt, she felt something deep inside shift. And when she took that first step, it wasn’t just a step, it was a strut.
AMama’s almost got her groove backstrut that took her across the parking lot and straight for her biggest insecurity. The career moms who did it all and did it well. She was zeroing in, ready to put it all on the line, even if it meant hosting Scrapbook Saturdays, when a big man wearing a bright orange SAR shirt and department-issued ball cap pulled up in a Jeep.
“You look determined,” came the masculine voice from within the car. “Where are you running to?”
Harris peeked his head out the window, and Liv’s heart gave a disappointed thump.
“I was going to go talk with the other moms while I waited for camp to let out,” she said. Harris looked at the other moms, then back to her, and raised an amused brow. “You know, in case they’re looking for a backup cutter for Scrapbooking Saturday.”
