Page 197 of Mr. Infuriating

Chapter Eighty-Three

Gretchen

Jake clung to me as we observed the flashing lights and flurry of activity of the kid-themed restaurant. I knew the cacophony of kids’ screams, laughter, and temper tantrums, mixed with the beeps, buzzes, and whirring sounds of the numerous games made it hard for him to hear me when I said, “It’s okay, baby. This is going to be fun!”

Troy held out his hands. “Come on, Jakester! Let’s get some tokens so we can play a game!”

My little boy only buried his head in my shoulder. His grip around my neck was ironclad, like he was worried I was going to make him go with Troy.

“Maybe we should find a booth and order some food first. That way he can just watch until he’s more comfortable.”

I could tell by Troy’s scowl that he didn’t like the idea, but he murmured, “Yeah, sure.” His tone dripped with disdain when he continued, “Pick out where to sit, since I’ll probably get that wrong, too.”

“You haven’t gotten anything wrong, Troy.”

Other than abandoning your family.

“It’s going to take some time for him to get to know you again.”

I tried not to flinch when he stroked my arm.

“I know. I’m just anxious to have our family back together.”

That’s not happening.

With a fake smile plastered to my face, I nodded, then turned to scope out an empty booth among the gold-colored ones that looked like they hadn’t been updated since the seventies. All while I tried to adjust Jake’s body, the diaper bag slung over one shoulder, and my purse over the other.

If Troy noticed me struggling, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Where do you want to sit?”

I nodded toward the closest empty booth. None of the seats had padding, probably so they could be hosed down easier at the end of the night. At least, I hope they got cleaned. I couldn’t imagine how many germs were floating through this place with all the kids running around.

“How about there?”

“Cool.”

He headed to the table without looking back, leaving me to juggle Jake and the bags while I picked up a brown booster seat from the stack at the wall.

Not that I wasn’t used to handling everything on my own, I’d just gotten spoiled having Gabe around who insisted on helping me with everything.

I dropped my bags on the left side of the bench and put the child’s seat down on the right side before plopping Jake in and scooching him toward the wall. Then I picked up my purse and the diaper bag and set them on the other side of me as I got situated next to Jake.

My ex plucked the laminated menu tent from the end of the table and perused it while I fished out disinfecting wipes from the diaper bag and wiped down the sides of the boosterchair and the table. The last thing I needed was for Jake to get sick when I had to administer final exams next week.

Troy proclaimed, “Oh good, they have beer.”

Whew. I wouldn’t want you to have to go a whole evening with your child without having a beer.

My smile was tight when I asked, “What kind of juice do they have?”

“Since when do you drink juice?”

I stopped what I was doing and scowled in disbelief.

“For Jake.”

I couldn’t bring myself to call him “our” son yet.

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