Page 108 of The Art of Being Merry
Don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. Don’t play games with him. Not in front of the boys or the audience.
I shrug. “I’ve been busy. Taking care of the children. Getting ready for the holiday. Working.” I practically spit the last word at him.
He never appreciated or supported my “work,” never thought I’d make anything of it. Even when I proved him wrong time after time, he still turned his nose up at it.
The bastard dares to look smug. “Since I’m here, can I take them to dinner?”
“Yes,” Atlas answers. “I know just the place.”
I can’t stoop to Keith’s level, and I won’t use my kids as pawns in the games he wants to play.
I plaster on a smile. “Sure thing,” I bite out. “You want to take them now?” It breaks my heart to say it. It’s freaking Christmas Eve. We had plans, and now he’s gonna swoop in and ruin them all?
I can’t blame my kids for wanting to spend time with him. He sucks in all the ways, but he’s still their dad.
My suggestion flusters Keith, like he wasn’t prepared for me to agree, which puts me back in a position of control. Why I let myself get worked up by him is a mystery. It always,always, works out in my favor, something I need to keep in mind.
“Uh, sure,” he finally says, nearly stuttering over his words.
“Great.” I clap my hands, holding on to my last nerve, notwanting to crack in front of my kids. In front of Heidi, who’s watching the entire exchange. “Boys, change of plans. Dinner with Daddy. How fun.”
Jace rushes over to me. “Will Dax be mad we’re not eating with him?”
Oh, my sweet boy, thinking of someone other than himself. I love that it’s Dax.
I shake my head, afraid of what I might say, how it might come out. Swallowing down the lump of emotion in my throat, I state, “Nope.” I want to add more, but I can’t.
My answer brings a smile to his face. “Make sure to remind him about our plans for Santa later tonight.”
“I will. Don’t worry. He’ll be there.” There’s conviction in my tone. Of course, he’ll be there. He keeps his promises. I glance at Keith. “Don’t keep them out too late. They need to head to bed on the earlier side.”
“Okay. Thanks, Clem.” He holds out his hand for Jace to take. I wish the simple act didn’t break my heart so much. It’s only a matter of time before my boy is crushed. “Oh, um. Can I grab his car seat from your car?”
“You don’t—” I start, anger boiling up. He comes all this way and doesn’t have a car seat? “You know what? Never mind. Yeah, I’ll put it in for you.” Hastily, I shove my arms into my coat sleeves and my feet into my boots. The boys follow suit.
“You okay?” Willa whispers next to me.
“Dandy,” I grit out.
Once I’m ready to brave the elements, I nearly rip the door off the hinges and head outside, down the porch steps, and to the back of the bed-and-breakfast where my car is. The cold air does nothing to tamp down the fire burning through my veins at the turn of events this night has taken. Fury courses through me, and it’s a struggle to get the seat out of the van. When I finally get it unlatched, I heave it into my arms and make the trek back to the front where a rental car is parked. I want to throw it on the ground—or better, at my ex—but I restrain my anger. I can’t be petty in front of my kids.
Keith unlocks the doors, and I snap it in place, making sure it’s secure.
“All set. Come, give Mama hugs.” Jace rushes first, and I pick him up, squeezing him to me like he’ll be gone longer than one meal. “Love you, Jacey.”
“Love you, Mama.”
With a final squeeze, I lower him to the ground, welcoming Atlas into my arms. Until he refuses, he gets all the hugs.
“Are you mad?”
His question catches me off guard. I’ve done a horrible job of hiding it.
“Surprised. Not mad. You should spend some time on Christmas Eve with Daddy. I wish I knew he was coming so I could have planned the night differently.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. His expression is torn, but I’m uncertain why. “Can you save me some of the beef?”
“Of course.” He smiles at my answer, satisfied he’ll get the best of both worlds.
