Page 9 of Can't Text This

Today I’m making an exception. I need help getting a certain ginger out of my head, and I need my best friend to help me. The last thing my son needs to hear is details of the weekend I had while he was at his mom’s.

“Yep. TV too. Just this once though.”

“Can I have some juice?”

That’s where I draw the line. “Out there? No way. Juice stays in the kitchen.”

I grab a cup from the cabinet and the orange juice from the fridge, pouring him half a glass. He chugs it down quick.

“Thanks. I’ll come back when I want more.”

Then he grabs his plate and takes off for the living room. I’ve never seen a kid walk so cautiously before. He knows he better not drop a single crumb on the floor.

Zach chuckles. “You’ve got that turd trained.”

“Someone needed to.”

“What’s up? Why’d you kick him out?”

“Well…” I rub the back of my neck, trying to figure out how I want to phrase this.

“You got someone else pregnant.”

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “No. Stop it, you ass.”

He presses his lips together, trying to hold in his laughter. “Right. Sorry. What then?”

“I met someone.”

“What about Holly?”

Up until two months ago, I thought Xavie’s mom would be my endgame. I thought me finally getting my shit together and getting a place of my own was the icing on the cake. We’d stop our back-and-forth, on-and-off bull and take a real stab at being a united front for our son, maybe even fall in love and get married.

But that’s not how it happened, and I’m done trying.

Holly and I aren’t destined to be together, and I’ve finally accepted that. As much as I don’t want my son to grow up with a broken family, I can’t force things with his mother. That’ll be worse for him than if we just call it what it is and do our own thing.

We promised we’d stand united, even went back to court and reworked the custody agreement so our time with our son was split right down the middle. So far, it’s worked out great.

“We’re done for good.”

Zach’s lips tilt up in the corners, and then a full smile spreads across his face. “I’m happy to hear that.”

He was never a fan of Holly. Shit was bad when Xavie was first born, and we were both so young that we didn’t deal with anything in a healthy manner. Zach’s never forgiven her for it, which is crazy because he isn’t really one to hold grudges.

It’s his love for my son, who truly is practically his nephew, and for me that keeps him angry at her.

I kind of love the moron for it, but I also wish he’d just get over it and be friendly with her since she’s still such a big part of our lives.

He takes a bite of his waffles and chews before saying, “This girl then—what about her?”

“We sort of…hooked up.”

He mumbles something, but I can’t make it out through the food jammed in his mouth.

“In the bathroom at Lola’s.”

He sputters, choking on his breakfast. Loud coughs fill the room and I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, sliding it his way.

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