Page 7 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

“Take a breather,” Jenny advised as she tidied up some things in the kitchen area of the bar Coach Parker’s friends had reserved for his retirement celebration.

I nodded, plopping onto a stool. Since everyone was eating, the five of us caterers could sit for a few minutes and relax—until the plates were done and needed to be collected.

Getting my phone out of my pocket, I couldn’t help but scan the room. Jenny was ambitious, but I wouldn’t let her overdo it. She seldom asked for help, and I swore that trait had rubbed off on me in the last five years I’d worked for her.

I’d felt the buzz of texts throughout the evening, but the brief notification on my watch showed that they weren’t emergencies. Sara didn’t equal emergencies. Just gossip.

Sara:Ms. Erin said Brent totally started that fight yesterday.

Sara:She said Brent was teasing George about not having a dad.

I sighed heavily. Her account matched what I assumed and what George had told me.

Blake:Yeah. He says he called him a bastard.

She replied with angry emojis.

Sara:She tried talking crap in the office too. She said that unless George could be ‘nicer’ to her ‘sweet’ son, he shouldn’t even be in the classroom.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I whispered. The nerve of that woman. I would never understand why Reagan had it out for me. The only reason I could think of was my brother. Kevin had gone to high school with her. When he was a senior, she was a sophomore. He never gave her the time of the day, but it sounded like she’d had a crush on him. It seemed she was giving belated aggravation to me on that point.

Blake:Brent? Sweet?! Maybe in a parallel universe.

I cringed as I sent the text. I was better than this. I could be the bigger person. Talking about a child like that was wrong. My anger was toward his mother.

Sara:Then she yelled at Cole, saying George is a nuisance to the whole class because he’s a wayward boy with absent father issues.

I rolled my eyes. George was not wayward at all. He was quiet and polite.

As if to prove that point, Amanda texted right then with a picture.

Amanda:He’s the sweetest.

The photo was him holding up a painting he’d done at the birthday party, held at a paint studio. Captioned under the image of me and him holding hands wasI love my family.

Oh, honey.I loved him more than the world, but I hated myself for depriving him of having a “complete” family.

No.

I sat up straighter.

It’s not my fault.

It wasn’t because of my choices that his dad wasn’t in the picture, and I’d be damned if I thought like that. Dealing with this mom guilt was rough. I worked a lot of hours to afford the house that I maintained after my mom passed away from cancer and my dad’s body gave in to the cruel demands of alcoholism on his liver. I couldn’t be a stay-at-home single mom and still make ends meet. Work sucked up so much of my life, but I wasn’t sure how else I could manage it. Actually, I had a good idea of how I could try. Starting my own business and opening a restaurant and catering service would give me so much more income. Sure, there’d be an investment upfront, but so long as I was limited to Jenny’s work demands and her budget, I’d never be able to dream big and aim for more financial prosperity.

But that wasn’t so simple as deciding to branch out on my own. Jenny—and Amanda—had been the only family I’d had for so long. They’d helped me so much when George was born, and I didn’t have the heart to compete against Jenny in Vernford. George and I would have to move for me to start my own business, but I couldn’t imagine walking away from the only place I’d ever known. Thiswashome, and despite the headache of Reagan and her son, I didn’t want to leave.

“Shoot.” At the realization that I’d forgotten to put that “fancy” pizza purchase from last night into my budgeting app, I opened it up and logged it in. Unlike the basic pie slice ofGroceries, this indulgence of a takeout pizza would have to go intoExtras. It was already the slimmest slice of my budget, but that was how I’d managed this far. Nitpicking every dollar. Working my fingers to the bone to stay productive without uprooting my son.

I wished I could be home with George and watch a Christmas movie with him, but I knew he’d have fun with Amanda.

Blake:I love it!I tacked on a couple of heart emojis with it.

Before I could put my phone away, it buzzed again. Another text came in, but unlike the one from Amanda, the sight of this sender’s name had me cringing.

Rory:Hey, bae.

God, I hate that name.It was the most cliché of all endearments, used by a man who wanted to seem cool.

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