Page 101 of One Big Little Secret

“I know!” I moderate my tone as I pick out clean clothes. “Go sit at the table, honey, and I’ll get you a breakfast bar.”

It’s a grab-and-go breakfast day. Letting him eat unsupervised means he’ll spill crumbs everywhere. I locate hisschool clothes and lay them out on the bed before getting dressed.

I’m going to be so late.

There won’t be any coming back from this. And Patton—

Nope, we’re not going there.

No point.

Before I crashed last night, I told myself I wouldn’t think about it today.

As far as I’m concerned, the kiss from hell never happened.

Even if the thought ofnotthinking about it makes my stomach knot up about five different ways.

“Where are your shoes?” I ask Arlo as I grab my purse, simultaneously fumbling with my phone for an Uber. Maybe I’ll have my car by the end of the day, if Patton’s guys are really as good as he claimed.

Stop thinking about him.

“Mommy, I have a question.”

I look up just to humor him.

“…why did you kiss Grumpybutt?”

Oh. My. God.

My blood freezes over.

“Honey, you can’t call him that,” I say absently as the question hits me full force.

I wince. A huge industrial brick sinks to the pit of my stomach.

Holy hell, where do I even start?

“Why’d you kiss Mr. Rory then?” Persistent little beast. I have to tell himsomething.

Anything but the truth.

“I didn’t kiss anyone, big guy,” I say, praying he’ll believe me. “I bet you dreamed it. You were so sleepy last night, huh?”

“No! I saw you, Mommy. I got up for water.” He frowns, one shoe in his hand.

Ugh, talk about bad choices—I can either gaslight my overly perceptive son or tell him I kissed my boss and I don’t even know why.

“Arlo, last night was nuts. There are things I’m not sure whether I dreamed.” My throat burns as I take the coward’s way out, frantically ordering an Uber.

“But you—”

“Boy-o, let’s get moving. We’re going to be so late.” I clap my hands. “Come on, shoes on. Or do you need help?”

Galvanized into action, he stops chattering, sits down, and slowly—ouch, so slowly—puts on his shoes. My phone pings me to say our ride is approaching.

I grab his little bag and miraculously, we leave the house before half past eight.

Hopefully, kindergarten won’t mind that I’m late dropping him off. I don’t think they will with half the city still digging out from the snowstorm.

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