Page 66 of Perfectly Complicated
“Careful, Riley, there’s a child in the room,” I brush the tip of his nose playfully.
“Yes, and she should see her mommy happy,” he murmursnext to my ear, leaving one last kiss on my earlobe. “For the record, I’m not going to stop spoiling you either.”
“As much as I like this, I have papers to grade today.”
“Papers?” He frowns. “I thought this was kindergarten? Just give them all A’s for their scribble drawings and call it a day. I thought we could spend some time together as a family.”
He just said the “F” word—family.And I’m trying not to overthink it. It’s not like one night watching Aria turned him into a family man, right?
“Such as…what?” I ask, curious now.
“Picking out a Christmas tree.” He casually loops an arm around my waist. “I noticed you don’t have one yet.”
“Oh.” My gaze shifts to Aria who’s chewing on a brightly colored ball. Getting a tree is the one thing I’ve been avoiding thinking about because the extra expense isn’t in the budget right now. “I wasn’t really planning to buy a tree this year.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean you weren’t planning to? It’s almost Christmas.”
“We don’t really need one,” I say lightly, handing Aria another toy. “She’s too little to really understand, and with the pageant and everything, I’ve been busy…”
He studies me. “Janie.”
“What?”
“You’re the woman who spent an entire day showing me the most over-the-top Christmas festival around. You made me drink overpriced cocoa, forced me to build a gingerbread house, took me ice-skating, and then kissed me under the mistletoe.”
“That last one wasn’t planned,” I remind him.
His eyebrows lift. “And now you’re telling me you don’t want a tree?”
I let out a sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want one…”
“Then what is it?”
I look down at my daughter playing on the floor. “I can’t afford one, okay? I can barely pay for gifts for Aria.” I reach down to pick up the ball Aria dropped. “Nick hasn’t been paying childsupport. That’s why I’m doing the Christmas pageant—for the extra money.”
For a long moment, Rourke doesn’t respond. When I glance over, he’s staring at me, his jaw clenched.
“He’s not supporting you?” His voice is low and furious.
I shake my head. “No.”
Something dark flickers across his face. “That worthless piece of?—”
“Rourke, it’s fine.”
“I’m sorry, but it’snotfine.He has a responsibility to you both,” he growls.
I move to the floor to hand Aria her blanket. “We’re managing.”
“Managing?” He stands abruptly and starts pacing the room. “You shouldn’t have to choose between paying rent and buying your daughter a gift.”
I shrug. “A lot of single moms make those choices.”
He turns to face me, and there’s a fire in his eyes that could burn down a city. “I don’t care. It’swrong. He should be supporting you.” He drags a hand through his hair, and I can tell he’s struggling to keep his anger contained. “You take care of your daughter, not to mention all your students. Someone should be taking care ofyou.”
No one’s said that to me before, not even Nick when we were married.
“I can take care of myself,” I whisper. I’ve had no choice but to.
