Page 164 of Mr. Infuriating

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Gabe

I’d been on edge all afternoon, ever since I called the school to grant permission for Gretchen to take Britt home with her.

The lady on the phone tried to explain that staff couldn’t give students rides, so I asked incredulously, “So, you’re telling me my girlfriend, who’s living in the same house as me, can’t have my daughter in the car with her?”

“Oh… well, obviously, that’s different. If that’s the case, you probably didn’t even need to call.”

“I think Gretchen just wanted to make sure all her bases were covered.”

I’d had a pit in my stomach ever since I hung up, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I was worried Gretchen was going to be mad at me for telling one of her coworkers she was my girlfriend, or if I was worried about her driving Britt.

Maybe a little of both.

Or it could be how easily calling her my girlfriend rolled off my tongue.

I noticed the time and texted Britt and asked her to let me know once they got home. I couched it that I’d start that way once I heard from her.

Seconds after I hit send, my phone rang with my daughter’s name on the screen.

“Hey, Dad! We just walked in the door! Gretchen wants to know if you’re okay with spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.”

“Do we have garlic bread, or should I stop on the way home?”

Her voice was muffled when she asked Gretchen about the bread. A few seconds later, she came back on.

“We have some. Gretchen wants to know if you have an ETA when you’ll be home.”

“I just need to finish installing this cabinet, then I’ll head that way. I should be home by six.”

I could tell her mouth was away from the receiver when she said, “He says six,” then with a stronger voice told me, “We’ll see you then!”

Knowing Gretchen was in my house, making dinner for the four of us did something to my insides. Gretchen and Jake fit in so well with my kids, it was like they belonged there.

I’d best remember this thing was temporary.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Gretchen

Gabe helped me clean up after dinner, then we sat down on the couch with Jake and Brittany while they watched an episode ofBlueythat Brittany had thoughtfully recorded.

I normally fast-forwarded through commercials at my house, but Gabe had questions, so I muted them while Brittany explained the premise of the show.

Jake tried to help and patted my leg. “Chilli,” Bluey’s mom’s name. Then he patted Gabe’s leg and declared, “Bandit,” which was the father’s name in the show.

Even in the seven-minute segment we’d watched, Gabe had to have figured that out.

My little man then patted his chest and said, “I Bluey,” then reached for Brittany’s hand and said, “Bit-nee Bingo.”

Bingo was Bluey’s sister. Bluey was also a girl, a fact that didn’t seem to bother Jake for the scenario he was creating.

Oh boy. How the hell am I supposed to handle this?

I decided I’d try to be literal about it.

“No, silly. You’reJake!” I tickled his sides as I tried to lighten the mood. “You’re a boy, not a puppy! I’m Mama.” I pointed to Gabe and continued. “That’s Gabe. He’s Brittany and Brayden’s daddy, not yours. Your daddy’s name is Troy,” and Gabe scoffed softly.

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