Page 31 of For the Love of Summer

“Jackson, please! Just one more bite.”

He looked at her and burst into tears, then tossed his plate onto the floor. Food went flying, hitting cabinets and the floor. Applesauce oozed into a puddle. Bits of chicken and cheese piled together in the corner. Allison looked from the mess to the clock on the wall and knew that she just didn’t have it in her to care.

“Fine,” she said, taking off the tray and unstrapping him. “You want out? Get out and do whatever you want.”

She set him on the floor, then turned her back on him. Despite her large belly, she got down on her hands and knees and began clearing up the mess. Jackson stood where she’d left him, crying harder, but she ignored him. She’d reached her crisis limit and simply couldn’t deal with him this second.

It took fifteen minutes to clean up the worst of it. She lumbered to her feet and put the high chair back against the wall. After putting the dishes in the dishwasher, she rinsed out the sink, then risked a glance at the clock.

She only had ten minutes and Summer was never late.

She hurried into her bedroom. Jackson followed, his tears quieter now. He held out his arms to her, but she didn’t have time to make him feel better. She replaced her ugly comfort shoes for semicute clogs, tore off her work T-shirt and put on a pretty white blouse that was cut large enough to drape over her belly. She combed her hair, knew makeup simply wasn’t happening, then turned to her son.

He sat in the middle of her bedroom, butt on the floor, arms outstretched. His cries had become tired little mews and he looked miserable.

“All right,” she said, kneeling in front of him. “It’s okay.”

He got up and flung himself at her, his hot sweaty arms clinging hard.

“Shh.” She rubbed his back. “I know you weren’t trying to be difficult. Somehow you always know when I’m in a hurry and act up. It’s a gift. I wish you had a different one, but we need to work with this one.”

He was going to be hungry later, she thought. They both were because she hadn’t had time for dinner. Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would figure out something they both could eat, then they would spend a quiet evening on the sofa. They would listen to music while they played with a puzzle, then she would read to him until they were both sleepy.

“You’ll see,” she told him.

He took a step back and shook his head. “Tum-tum.”

“What?” The word was unfamiliar. What was he trying to say?

She reached for him just as his face twisted. Seconds later he threw up all over her shirt. He burst into tears, she wasn’t far behind and then the doorbell rang.

Allison knelt there, unable to believe what had just happened. Could the situation be any more unfair?

“It’s me,” Summer called. “I have my mom with me. Allison?”

“In here.”

But her voice was a resigned whisper and there was no way Summer could have heard. But Jackson recognized his precious Summy and shrieked for her. Summer walked into the bedroom.

“Are you—” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. What happened?”

“He didn’t like his dinner.”

“Let me help.”

“Is everyone all right?”

Erica followed her daughter into the bedroom. Allison held in a groan as she looked at the tall, perfectly dressed, un-vomited-upon woman who had been Peter’s first wife.

Erica’s dark hair was cut short in a soft, yet spiky style that brought out her incredible bone structure. Her makeup was subtle but perfect. She had on slim-fitting jeans, boots that looked house-payment expensive, a sweater and a chunky necklace that probably wasn’t costume jewelry. A brown bag covered with the initials LV was casually slung over one shoulder.

“Well, this is a mess,” Erica said, shaking her head. “All right, let’s get this under control. Summer, help Allison to her feet, then we’ll leave her to get changed. I’ll handle handsome Jackson here.”

She crouched down in front of the toddler and smiled broadly. “Hello. I’m Erica. We’ve met but I bet you don’t remember. Did you throw up? Are you feeling better or is your tummy still upset?”

Jackson stuck his fingers in his mouth as he moved close to Erica. His eyes were wide as he studied her, then he thrust both arms toward her. Erica reached for him.

“Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” Allison said. “He might have vomit on his shirt.”

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