Page 180 of One Big Little Secret

Arlo shrugs, more interested in his food than adding another parent to his life.

“What if? We’re friends with Grumpybutt.” Knowing he’s said something he shouldn’t, he sends me a wicked glance. “No one’s cooler than him. If we’re gonna have a guy around, he should be the dude.”

The dude.

Yeah, I’m dead.

If there ever was a flashing neon sign from the universe, this is it. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry hysterically, so I settle for scooping him up and kissing his face, which is already covered in chocolate and sprinkles.

“Mom!” He squeals and this time really does try to wiggle free, smacking the back of his head into my jaw as he goes. But he’s laughing, and so am I, because it’s like a weight I never knew existed has been lifted away.

I’m free.

We’re free.

And I need to tell Patton that I’m sure the big confession won’t be a disaster.

This could fix everything if I just screw my head on and do it.

He always wanted me to tell Arlo from the beginning. I just kept looking for reasons why it could shatter everything.

Peering into darkened corners and unspoken words and the gaping distance between Patton’s lofty life and mine. But maybe what I actually needed was trust all along.

My phone buzzes from the other room and I head back through to grab it. Maybe it’s Patton calling to offer me the coffee I know he’s almost certainly gone out to buy.

Only, it’s not his name on my screen.

Unknown number.

I chew my lip, staring at the phone as it buzzes in my hand again before I swipe and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Salem?”

“Yes?” The voice is familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

“It’s Delly, Delly Rory. Sorry to bother you so early, but it turns out a certain little someone forgot his new toys and his tablet when you were over. I wondered if you’d like some brunch with me?”

Now isn’t the best time to point out Arlo just wolfed down three mini pancakes. If there’s one thing I know about little boys, though, it’s that they have a bottomless stomach for being spoiled.

“Sure, that sounds lovely,” I say, doing a victory dance around the room. “When would you like us over?”

This timewhen I approach Delly Rory’s enormous house, I don’t feel like it’s going to swallow me whole.

Patton wasn’t invited to this little meetup. It feels more than ever like I’ve been accepted into a secret little club.

Girls’ club. Mothers’ club. The Rory women club, maybe.

After our near-fight a few days ago before dinner, I didn’t think meeting up with Patton’s mom could create this sort of champagne-bubbly feeling in my belly, but here we are.

A brunch invite with Delly.

“Remember, big guy, you’ve got to be on your best behavior,” I remind Arlo as we walk up to the huge castle-like door, hand in hand. “Be polite, like last time.”

“I like Delly. She’s pretty nice.” He also looks like he’s fizzing with excitement.

“She’s a nice lady,” I agree.

The door flies open and Delly, with her immaculate white pantsuit and pink scarf, beckons us in. The woman has a knack for always looking runway stylish and regal, and today is no exception.

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