Page 119 of Strictly the Worst

I know I’m luckier than most. We have a roof over our heads and I have a job bringing in money and things are on the up. I just wish I didn’t feel inadequate every time I walked into this room.

“What is it?” I ask her.

“Linc sent me this super cool t-shirt. It’s French.” She holds it up against her. It’s black with two manga characters on it, with their names Jeanne Et Serge, written across the front. “Isn’t it cool?”

“Linc sent you that?” They had a huge discussion about Manga the last time he was was in town. I’m touched that he remembers that.

“Yeah. A delivery man dropped it off.” Her face lights up. “I’m going to wear it this weekend to Alice’s party.”

“You’re at your dad’s this weekend,” I say. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She looks at me as though I’m an idiot. “You’re the one who agreed to the custody schedule.”

“Maybe it’s best if you don’t tell him it’s from Linc,” I tell her.

As soon as the words escape my lips I feel like an asshole. Because I never want my kid to lie. And I’m annoyed at myself for being annoyed at Linc for sending it to her and making me ask her to lie.

Damn, it’s been a hard day. I can feel a headache coming on.

“Does Dad not like Linc?”

The sauce is boiling too hard. I turn the heat down. “It’s not that. It’s just…” I shake my head, totally unprepared to have this conversation. “Dad is worried about him being around you, even though he shouldn’t be.”

“Why?” She looks almost annoyed. “Melissa is around me all the time when I’m over at their house. She spends more time with me than Dad does.”

“I know.” I nod. “And it’s not anything you’ve done wrong. Or Linc for that matter. The t-shirt is fabulous. Linc is very sweet.”

“He is.” She nods. “And I’m wearing it. No matter what.”

“Of course you are. Just ignore me.” I shoot her a smile. I need to get over this. It’s just that I feel extra inadequate today. I can’t shake it off no matter how much I try.

And yes, some of it may be due to the Instagram photo Angela sent me of Linc at a party in Paris last night.

He wasn’t with a woman. Not that I thought he would be. I’m over that kind of jealousy now. But his life is so different to mine and sometimes I find myself wondering how long he’s going to stick around when he realizes just how boring it is trying to keep a roof over our heads.

“You look sad,” Zoe says.

I force a smile onto my face. “I’m not sad. Just tired. Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Why don’t you sit at the table and tell me about your day?”

I listen as she tells me about an experiment they did in science, and how they’re studying Macbeth in English class but the teacher is so superstitious they’re not allowed to say the name.

“We have to call it the Scottish Play,” she tells me as I put our bowls on the table. She picks her spoon and fork up and twirls the noodles like an expert.

“So what do you call the character Macbeth?”

“The Scottish guy.”

“Aren’t all the characters Scottish?” I ask her.

“Yeah, but we’re allowed to say their names. Then Jonah started calling his MacBook a ScottishBook and things deteriorated from there.”

Zoe spends the evening doing her homework so she doesn’t have to do it over the weekend, and I spend the time reviewing some influencer videos for the Exuma project, before sending them to Roman for his approval. And then I check the calendar and I realize with relief that I’ve been moody tonight for a reason.

My period is always so irregular that I don’t bother tracking it, but I know the ballpark of when it’s supposed to arrive. I’m smiling through my tears because at least I’m not turning into a perpetual bitch for no reason.

Linc calls at midnight my time again, while he’s getting ready for work in Paris. And when I hear his voice, like the over emotional idiot I am, I burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” His voice echoes with alarm.

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