The Player and the Single Mom

“There’s a guest suite that we have to keep for my parents, but each of the kids can have their own room. We can put Marigold next to us.”

This was actually happening.

I shoved my chair back so fast I knocked it over.

“What’s the matter?” Cash looked up in alarm.

I shook my head, waved one hand, then clapped the other one over my mouth.

The onion rings stayed down until I got to the restroom but then they were up and out before I could close the stall door behind me. I leaned over the toilet, trying not to touch anything, until finally I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket. I was trembling, eyes watering.

“You okay?” a woman asked. “It wasn’t the shrimp, was it?”

“No,” I said, flushing the toilet. “It’s not contagious either, I swear. I’m pregnant.” I turned and saw a woman eyeing me in the mirror.

“Oh Lord, I hope that’s not contagious. I have three already and I’m thirty-eight.”

I went to the sink next to her and waved my hand under it. “I’m thirty-five and this is number four.”

“On purpose?” she asked as she finished rinsing her hands and flicked off excess water in the sink bowl.

“No. Margaritas in Mexico because I was so excited to be away from the kids. We might have gotten carried away.”

The sympathy flashed over her face. “Bless your heart.”

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Sera? Are you okay?” It was Cash.

“Can you please tell him I’m fine when you leave?” I asked the woman, bending over to scoop water onto my face. “I just need a minute.”

“Sure, no problem. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She paused. “Wait, does your husband know?”

I was touched she asked. There was nothing like the bond between women in the ladies’ room. “Yes, he knows. He’s actually excited. This is his first child.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

I dampened a hand towel and put it on the back of my neck. The door opened and I heard the woman say, “Your wife is fine, she just lost her cookies. Babies will do that to you. She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding relieved.

Which was sweet, I had to admit.

The woman’s head popped back into the restroom. “Good Lord, girl, no wonder you got knocked up,” she said in a stage whisper. “That’s a lot of man.”

That made me laugh. “Yes, it is,” I said.

And somehow that man was mine.

Cash

“What are you doing?”I asked Sera a few days later. “Are you at the bakery?”

I had stopped referring to the bakery by its actual name because I couldn’t decide if the name made her nostalgic and happy or sad and pissed off. I was also debating if I should continue to place large orders under a false name or not. I wanted to help her business but I knew she was exhausted, but now that I’d been ordering from her for months, I thought it would look strange if I suddenly stopped. I would have to confess at some point, but I wasn’t ready to have her get pissed at me.

“I have to go run and pick Marigold up from pre-K. I hate doing that because you have to get out of the car and get the kids in person and those other moms… they’re always just filled with all this sympathy for me that I’m a widow.” Sera shuddered. “What they really are behind the sympathy is grateful that it’s not them. Same thing happens when someone’s husband has an affair or they get a divorce.”

I had no opinion on any of that and I didn’t think she wanted a response anyway. She just wanted to vent. I remembered what my agent Sam had said about the carpool line and about supporting your partner. “What time does she get out?”

“Noon. I’m so tired. How am I this tired by eleven in the morning?”

“You’re building a baby, that’s why, and running a business. Want me to go pick Marigold up? You added my name to the pickup list, right?” I felt in my pocket for my keys. If I left soon I could be there in plenty of time. “That should shut the Mean Mom club down if I show up.”

Sera gave a laugh. “Hell yeah, that would. You don’t mind? I could make lunch for us at my house and you two can meet me there.”

“I don’t mind at all. If I don’t I won’t get to see Marigold until Saturday and I kind of like hanging out with that little wild child.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks. You really are the best.”

Sera had given me the lowdown on all the pickup protocols. I pulled into the parking lot of a brick building with the windows covered in children’s artwork. There was a crowd of women standing on the sidewalk in front by the flagpole.

I wasn’t even halfway across the parking lot before I had attracted attention. One mom spotted me, then another, and then there were raised palms to the mouth and women who tried to pretend they weren’t talking about me, but so clearly were.

“Hi, can we help you?” a brunette asked. She had a baby on her hip.

“No, I’m good, thanks.” I smiled at her. I checked my watch to see how many minutes until dismissal time.

“Are you picking a child up?” another woman asked.

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you on the list?”

I was going to assume they were being protective of the kids in the school, which I applauded. “Yes.”

“Which child?” a third asked. Her smile seemed genuine and not as suspicious as Mom Two.

“Marigold Huxtaby.”

“Oh, are you Sera’s brother?” Mom Three asked. “I can see the family resemblance.”

That amused me. Other than that we were both taller than average, I wasn’t sure we looked alike, but at least she was being friendly.

I gave her a smile. “Definitely not her brother. I’m Sera’s boyfriend.” I got a thrill out of stating that.

There was an audible murmur from the mom gang.

“I’m Cash Young, by the way.” I stuck out my hand to Mom Three.

“Daphne Johnson.” She shook my hand, her eyes widening a little. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The other two mothers introduced themselves and then we talked about whose kid was whose and who was friends with who in the pre-K classroom. “You need to show your ID to Miss Connors,” Mom Two said. She pointed out the teacher in the doorway, holding the line of kids at bay behind her. “She’ll confirm if you’re on the list or not.”