Page 57 of Single Mom's Secret Diary
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Avery
Ezra drives me and my son back to my townhouse before he takes Dad back to his car. Dad promises to be by in the morning, and Ezra promises that he will be back shortly.
I get Charlie washed up with a trash bag around his new cast. I comb his hair and feed him a snack before I have a chance to think about what’s happened today.
Ezra knows about Charlie being his son. He seems to have forgiven me for not telling him right away, but how can he? Even after ten years, I couldn’t forgive him for the secret girlfriend he had when we were together.
And what does this mean for Wyatt and Ryder? Will this change things? Will they not want to be with me because of this? Will Ezra go back to being possessive and jealous?
Will Ezra actually want to stick around when the shock wears off, when he realizes how much work it takes to be a parent? Taking care of my son is second-nature to me. And he’s more than worth it. For me.
And now that Charlie knows, can put a face to a name, will this change a lot for him? Will it be good?
My mind is spinning when the doorbell rings, and I open it in a daze.
Ezra is standing there with the evening sky darkening behind him. He’s holding a paper bag, and smells waft out to curl into my nostrils—savory, sweet, spicy.
“I thought I’d pick up that food I mentioned the other day… when I asked you on a date.” He lifts it to confirm. “I’ve rethought the kind of date I want to have with you.”
I lift my brow, willing myself not to feel fragile.
“We don’t have to do anything fancy. I just want to be around you. As much as possible.” Ezra’s confession springs new tears to my eyes, and when his brow furrows, I step out to give him a chaste kiss.
A new zing trills through me. I reach down for his hand and escort him inside. As we approach the table, where Charlie is munching on pizza rolls, I notice Ezra lose inches of his confidence. I brush Charlie’s hair from his forehead and plant a kiss there.
“Hey. Look who’s here.”
My son peeks up at his dad with the kind of shyness I’m not used to him having.
“He brought us a treat. Probably better than what I’m feeding you.”
“Mom. Almost anything is better than pizza rolls.” He rolls his eyes at me, and I can’t believe my nine-year-old has such discerning taste. I wonder where he gets that from.
I make a face back at him and gesture for Ezra to open the bag.
“It’s traditional Vietnamese food. Not homemade, but made by two women from Hanoi, which is where my mom is from. I call herM?.” Ezra starts to pull out cartons of food, giving usthe traditional names of each dish. He smiles and repeats, “Fried dumplings, sticky rice, spring rolls, and a beef noodle salad.”
Charlie leans forward, his nostrils flaring. “Smells good. What would I call your mom? In Vietnamese?”
He’s balancing on one arm and bouncing his feet under him on his chair, and I cringe at how easily he could fall and hurt himself. I’ve promised him for his birthday that I would try to trust him and not micromanage him so much.
I cross to the kitchen and grab some plates.
“You’d call herBà.”
“Does she speak English?” He’s hopping again, and I bite my lip.
“She does. And she understands more than she can say. Reads a lot, too.” Ezra is smiling when I return to the table and hand one over to him.
I scoop a little bit of everything on a plate for Charlie to try, and Ezra frowns. He hasn’t had a kid, and he doesn’t have any siblings, or he’d know the key to wasting food is to pile too much on a kid’s plate.
“Cool.” Charlie finally sits and grabs the dumpling with his right. “Thanks, Mom.”
I clear my throat at him.
“Thanks… Can I call you Ezra for now?” He fiddles with the dumpling over his plate, avoiding eye contact.
