Page 22 of Just a Distraction

“I know I look ridiculous—”

“You have no idea,” she says.

“I’m trying to get this to actually swing back and forth.”

Finally, my jostling allows me to get in a good rhythm. “Ach! See? I’m doing it!” I finally manage to find a way to lean back enough that my body sails back and then forward enough to cause the opposite motion. “This is actually kind of f—"

My Vans fail me, zipping off the swing simultaneously. My left leg slides to my right, channeling down the right opening in the swing. The force of the fall causes my left leg to shunt down so quickly that my foot stabs the ground. There’s apopas my hip locks into place. It wedges hard.

The sensation of being tightly tethered floods me—like a team of medical professionals is getting ready to fit me for a body cast.

And I can’t move an inch.

Chapter 8

Rose

Milo is stuck in a baby swing.

Am I being punished for enjoying my time with this tasty snack of a man? I wouldn’t demean him by calling him a tasty snack out loud, but my brain went there, and I can’t get it out of my head now.

I spring from my swing, my very sensible child’s swing, and step toward him.

Honestly, is the universe showing me what a bad idea it is to spend time with Milo by wedging him in a baby swing? Like,Hey Rose. Guess what? He’s worlds different than you, has money and you don’t, doesn’t have a kid and you do, and see? Here’s proof!

Be that as it may, I can’t stop laughing.

I slap my hand over my mouth, but the damage has been done.

“You think this is funny?” He’s high-centered over the right side of the swing.

His mouth twitches and he teeters a bit on his one leg, hopping to try to gain some control and not topple over.

“No!” I amend. “Sort of. But not in a mean way, you just were so confident it was going to work, and then, the panic on your face . . .” Much to my dismay, I snort again and double over. “I’m so sorry. I’m trying not to laugh. Are you hurt?”

“My Juror Number Seven self feels some solidarity with you there.” He hops again, whipping his head around, looking for some way to relieve his situation. “I’m not hurt, per se. But this is not exactly comfortable. Uh, can you see something that could maybe act as a stool?”

I glance around. “Um, no. But I’ll look. I—what do you need a stool for?”

“Leverage.” He grits his teeth as he places his hands on either side of the swing. “Or, if you find something to stand on, maybe you could get on it and lift from under my shoulders. Just—” He sighs loudly and chews on his bottom lip. “No, that’s not going to work.”

“You know, you are everything that’s wrong with America today,” I say, grinning widely as I look for something I could scoot over to help him get out of the swing.

“Gee thanks. Kick me while I’m down.”

“I just mean that there are already not enough fun, good parks for kids and babies around here and now someone’s going to have to come cut you out of it, thus ruining the swing. It’s jokers like you who ruin the swings for the actual babies!”

I’m looking around but, honestly, why would there be anything like a stool around here? And one look at his face tells me this isn’t going to just solve itself.

“Why are you so concerned about the swings?” he asks. “What about my leg?”

I clamp my mouth shut and continue to walk around aimlessly, pretending to look for something he can stand on while I actually freak out about his constant questioning of baby swings. I have a baby, whom I love way too much to talk about with this guy right now.

“Are you in pain?” I step to him. “Maybe we should call someone.”

His mouth goes in a straight line before he answers. “I’m not going to pretend to be all macho right now. Yes, it hurts a little. Yes, I feel like I’ve been wedged into a steel trap . . . like I’m a wild animal and some fur trapper is out to get me.” He gestures to his hips. “Oh my gosh. Is this what those poor wild animals feel like? Anyway, I can’t unwedge my hip so . . .”

“I am so sorry.” I feel another burst of laughter coming on, but I manage to reel it in. Seriously, I have a problem. I also started laughing hysterically when I found out I was pregnant with Callum, so there’s that. I really need to figure out what that says about me—another time.

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