Page 4 of Wicked Games We Play

Our games continued, and while part of me has felt like I’d been leading him on, the other part of me refused to give him up.

With every stolen moment and sexy message, my resolve chipped away more and more, and somewhere along the line I admitted to myself that I actually want to be his.

* * *

“Happy birthday to you,”we all sang in unison, looking down at a happily smiling Jordan who was preparing to blow out the eleven candles I had poked into his birthday cake. Strawberry cake, vanilla frosting, and rainbow sprinkles. It had been the same cake year after year since he was old enough to recognize what the flavors were.

Eleven years ago today, I gave birth to my sweet baby boy and began my journey through motherhood. We’d had our ups and downs, but the strong little man here today had been more than worth all the internal struggles I’d dealt with over the years.

Now, I was learning to navigate through an entirely new set of struggles: divorce, co-parenting, and coping with a quiet, empty house when he was with his dad.

“Happy birthday to you,” the group bellowed, the openness of the backyard carrying the off-key tune through the wind.

Jordan rubbed his hands together in anticipation and I laughed at the way his humor was at such a forefront of his personality. I loved that about him.

“Happy birthday to Jordan, happy birthday to you.” The crowd clapped as he inhaled a huge breath that filled his cheeks before blowing out his candles, unknowingly spitting all over the cake as he did so. Good thing I bought cupcakes for everyone else.

Once the song had ended and Jordan’s candles were nothing more than a billow of smoke and melted wax, I continued his birthday tradition by handing him the biggest fork we had in the house—a salad serving fork—and watched as he dug in. “Be right back!” I called to no one in particular and made my way back into my house and into the kitchen, where the tray of cupcakes sat on the counter.

My phone sat upside down near the tray, so I took a quick peek at the home screen. Three text messages sat waiting: two from Noah and one from a number I didn’t recognize. I clicked that one first, reading a reminder that it was time to schedule a dentist appointment.

Lovely.

Clicking out of the reminder, I pulled up the message exchange with Noah, holding back a smile when I read what he sent.

Noah: Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m a thirsty man dying for another taste of you.

Noah: When are you going to let me take you out on a date?

Well that, sir, was the million-dollar question. Would I let him take me out on a date? I was still undecided.

Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I picked up the tray of cupcakes and brought them outside. The moment I pushed open the door, the noise from the party surrounded me and I immediately wished we had done a small friends and family party instead of inviting friends, family,andJordan’s entire class.

“It’s a lovely party, dear,” Mrs. Landry cooed from her seat at the table beside where I stood.

I smiled at her. “It really is, isn’t it? Jordan seems happy.”

“Don’t forget to make yourself happy too, Lily.”

Looking down at her, I felt my brow furrow. She may have been my boss, but she had been a constant in my life for the last several years. Her support throughout all of these changes had been nothing short of amazing. “I know.”

Taking the chair next to her, I relaxed into it and let my gaze wander around the party for a few minutes, watching the guests.

She pulled my hand into her frail one, using the other to pat it lightly. “You need a distraction, Lily. I can see how the nights without Jordan at home affect you. You’re bored. Maybe even a little sad?”

“Lonely is more like it,” I said with a sigh. Using my nail, I scraped off some hardened frosting that had found its way onto my jeans.

The loneliness was the worst part about being divorced. I had grown so accustomed to a loud house that not having it half the week was soul crushing. It made me long for someone to spend my time with, but the realistic side of me knew it was also exactly why I needed to force myself to be alone—I needed to learn how to be Lily without being in a relationship.

“You know, when my Frederick passed, I was so bored and lonely. The feeling ate me alive, and I worried for a while there that I would get that illness that you get when you’re so sad, and die too. What’s it called again?”

“Broken heart syndrome?”

“Yes, that’s it, broken heart syndrome. I thought for sure that’d be what took me out, but one day I forced myself to snap out of it. Want to know what I did to get out of my slump?”

I nodded my head, ready to take a mental note of whatever she said. Mrs. Landry always had some nugget of information to share, whether or not you wanted it. Most of the time, it was words of wisdom that you appreciated later.

“I created a bucket list. A single gal’s bucket list,” she told me, reaching for her cane as she stood from her chair. I gripped her elbow lightly to offer a hand if she needed it. She was slowing a little in the recent months.

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