The 'Burg: Hold On Part 25

Eventually, he looked at me.

"You know, I like him," he said. "Dad. He's okay. He can be funny. She's, like, a really good cook. Tobias and Mary are all cute and do stupid stuff all the time that's funny. But he's, like...not Colt. Especially with Peggy. Do you know what I mean?"

Did I ever.

"He's not Merry either," Ethan went on. "But in a different way because I never saw Merry with a chick. But, you know, Merry's funny funny, like he doesn't try. And Dad's weird funny because you can tell he's tryin'. But the Colt stuff, it's, you know, you can tell Peggy totally calls the shots. It's weird and a little freaky. I mean, it should be like Colt and Feb or, you know, like Mike and Dusty. Like, he's the dude and he's a real dude, but he doesn't walk all over her and she sure doesn't walk all over him." He focused intently on me. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean," I confirmed.

"It isn't like I don't like 'em. It's just weird," he told me.

"Yeah, I bet," I agreed.

"But if I had a choice to be around a dude and his chick, it seems more right, the way it should be, bein' around Colt and Feb or, you know, like, Cal and Vi. Even if Cal is totally bada.s.s, Vi still doesn't let him walk all over her. Dad and Peggy, it's just..." He shook his head. "Freaky."

I loved this. I loved all of it, even Ethan laying it out that I needed to look after myself. I loved it so completely, it made me want to get up and shout at the top of my lungs.

I wanted to do that because this one conversation proved that somehow, against the odds, those odds mostly created by me, I'd still managed to raise my son right.

"This is good," he declared. "I could use a break. Dad asked if I wanted to spend next weekend with them and I was kinda wis.h.i.+n' I could say no. I'm gonna say no."

Well, that was a big honkin' relief.

"Okay, Ethan, I'm glad this works for you, because if you say no, he'll eventually come to me and then I'm gonna say no for you for a while. Are you good with that?" I asked.

He looked intently at me. "Yeah. And you want, you can tell them I don't wanna spend more time there and definitely I don't wanna live with them. He can't, like, walk into my life when I'm almost grown up and do stuff like that." He c.o.c.ked his head and kept talking while studying me, offering, "If you don't wanna say that to him, I will."

"How about you keep things cool between you and your dad and let me do the talking for now? That work for you?"

He nodded but said, "If I gotta say it, Mom, I will."

Oh yeah.

Mental shout for joy.

My kid was smart. He was sensitive. He spoke his mind. He was strong. And he was brave.

I'd raised him right and I was only just over half done. I had more time to set that s.h.i.+t in stone.

That time wasn't enough, just because it would eventually end and I wanted it to last forever.

But it worked for me.

I nodded to him and replied, "Okay, kid. If you gotta say anything, you should say it anytime. In this situation or whenever. Just be cool about how you say it. You with me?"

"I'm with you," he muttered.

I tipped my head to the TV. "Now, are we gonna annihilate some more bad guys or you wanna help me clean the coffee table?"

"I'm not done with the M&M's."

Of course he wasn't.

Then again, I wasn't either.

I had a feeling I missed the boat on broccoli.

But he liked carrots, so I'd get some of those tomorrow.

"Right, you get the Pringles, I'll get the pizza, we leave the M&M's, then we kick some b.u.t.t," I suggested.

He smiled. "Works for me."

He jumped off the couch as I pushed off it.

I waited.

He'd grabbed the Pringles and I was gathering up used paper plates, napkins, and the remains of the pizza, timing it just right.

I was still gathering when I called, "Ethan?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

I drew in a deep breath.

Then I told the pizza, "You're the absolute best kid on the planet and I love you more than breath, you hear me?"

"I hear you, Mom," he replied quietly.

I said no more.

We cleared up.

Then we ate M&M's and kicked video game bad guy a.s.s.

After that, my kid went to sleep.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, one light on, dimmed by a scarf over it.

I was barefoot but otherwise still had on my jeans and tee, my makeup, my jewelry, everything.

I had my phone in my hand, my head tipped to it.

My texts were up, specifically mine and Merry's text string.

The last was from me.

DONE.

More evidence of my short fuse and me overreacting.

I closed my eyes tightly.

I opened them and allowed my thumbs to move over the screen.

I'm sorry. I was a total b.i.t.c.h this morning. It was out of hand. You didn't deserve it. Not a word. I lost it and I really wish I hadn't.

I stared at the text.

Then I hit backs.p.a.ce until it disappeared.

Ethan totally dug on you waking him up. He liked that you were looking out for me.

I studied the text for a while before I deleted it.

He just digs you. He thinks you're cool and funny and he was hoping you being with us meant you were with me.

My eyes blazed like fire, a sensation I was getting used to as I hit backs.p.a.ce until the words were gone.

I woke up liking that you'd looked after me too. Looked after us. I liked that a lot, Merry.

I erased and then typed.

Then I did what I'm really good at doing and screwed it up.

I made it gone and then made more.

But I'm in love with you and that scares me.

Quicker than the last, I got rid of that one.

I'm sorry.

I stared at those two words on my phone, my thumb hovering over the send b.u.t.ton.

It moved and deleted.

I turned off the phone and tossed it on the bed, lifting both hands to press the base of my palms to my eyes, trying to soothe the fire.

That didn't work, so I unfolded out of bed and went to the bathroom to take off my makeup in order to start getting ready to try and get some sleep.

I knew this would be an impossible task.

And when I finally lay alone in the dark, I found I was right.

Garrett Garrett stood on his balcony having a smoke, his head bent, his phone in his hand.

He engaged it, distractedly making note he needed to get a new one because that crack was f.u.c.king irritating.

His thumb sliding across the screen, he went to his texts.

Specifically his and Cher's string.

DONE.

That was her last.

f.u.c.k.

He turned off his phone and looked to his view.

She was right.

When he woke early, he should have woken her to discuss how they'd play the Ethan thing. He'd jumped the gun, made a decision that wasn't his to make.

So she was right to be angry.

But she'd lost it, spewing s.h.i.+t that was completely out of line.

Which p.i.s.sed him off.

He didn't hide it. She knew it, and it was written all over her by the time he'd walked out the door that she regretted it. And anyway, that was Cher. She didn't often hold back.

But since then...nothing. No apology. No Cher being c.o.c.ky-cute or a pain in the a.s.s in a good way to try to cover it up and move on.

Nothing.

The look of her waking up, the way her eyes were on him, the touch of her mouth to his throat, that f.u.c.king kiss, it all penetrated his brain.

He'd gotten in there.

You got somethin' worth fighting for, you fight for it. You do not sit on your a.s.s waitin' for it to come back to you.

She'd been right.

But the way things were with them, she was also partially wrong.

She needed time. He needed time. Cher wasn't stupid. She paid attention. She knew she took it too far this morning. He knew before he even walked out her door that she wished she could take it back.

But he was pus.h.i.+ng, and he was pus.h.i.+ng at a time when any sane, logical woman who knew his history with his ex-wife would have the smarts to push back.

Cher was pus.h.i.+ng back for more than just that, but there was also that.

He needed to cool it. He needed to give her some s.p.a.ce. He needed her to know that he was moving on, and his decision to explore moving on with her, which meant with her and her boy, was a risk worth it for her to take.