Page 81 of The One I Want
“What’s so funny?” Hank asks as all the kids come back, their arms loaded with sodas, candy, pizza, and nachos.
“Betsy was telling a funny story.”
“Was it about how you aren’t going to be like Uncle Oliver and ask Betsy to marry you?”
The group gets quiet exactly when Hank says this. Oliver is shocked. Shane and Amelia are trying not to laugh. Simon spits out his drink.
“What?” Hank asks. “I’m just speaking the truth.”
Hank heads back to the kids’ lane as everyone starts to laugh. That is everyone except Oliver, who is left dumbfounded.
Shane walks over and slaps Oliver on the back. “You heard the little man. This is how bad you’ve gotten. NowHankis roasting you.”
Yup. Tonight is exactly what I needed.
Chapter30
Betsy
I wokeup this morning and thought it was going to be a great day.
Then I opened my eyes.
Wes had to go into Nashville early. The playoffs have started, so that means longer hours at the facility for training and practice. Which is no problem. I’ve done plenty of mornings by myself. This one shouldn’t have been any different.
Until Emerson lost a notebook, so we spent most of the morning looking for that. That meant I didn’t have my usual time with Magnolia, so she started crying because she felt rushed and didn’t like her hair. I get it. You can’t mess with a morning routine.
Unfortunately, I had to load her and the other two into the car with only a few minutes to spare before school started. That meant Pop Tarts and juice boxes during the commute. I should have known that was going to end in disaster, which it did when Hank’s leaked and got juice all over his pants. I told him to hang out in the office until I could run home and grab him a new pair of pants. And a new outfit for Magnolia, because she decided to run through a mud puddle on her way inside.
When I got back to the school, new outfits in hand, Hank informed me that he forgot a permission slip for a field trip—which of course was due today. And had to be signed by Wes. For a field trip Wesorganizedto go to the Fury stadium. I asked the secretary if I could sign it, and she said no. When I asked again if she felt like it was redundant for a father to sign a permission slip for his son to go to his place of employment on a field trip he organized, she just gave me a look like I had answered my own question.
So I went home and got it. And signed his name. I’m not even sorry about it.
At this point I was hangry, so I stopped at Mona’s for lunch. I tried to call and have Whitley meet me, but she had “important work” to do and couldn’t get away. What good is owning your own business if you can’t play hooky whenever you want?
Now I’m sitting in the pickup line, which is ten cars deep because I think people camp out here two hours early. And don’t get me started on the white SUV that pulls up at the bell and drives straight to the front of the line. Every. Day.
Maybe some retail therapy will work? Yeah. Wes won’t be home until late. There’s a good mall between here and Nashville that would have something to make me feel better, as well as a toy store for Magnolia and Hank and a bookstore for Emerson. And, of course, we’ll stop for dinner because after the day I’ve had, I’m pretty sure the kitchen would catch on fire.
The line starts moving, and I pull up to where I normally can see the kids. Except they aren’t there.
“Oliver!” I yell out the window. “Where are the kids?”
He looks around, seemingly confused. “Honestly, I haven’t seen them. How about you pull around and go to the end of the line so they have time to come out?”
I look back to the line, which has to have at least fifty cars in it now. “Are you kidding me? Can’t I just stay here? They have to be coming soon.”
“Sorry, Betsy,” he says as he directs a kid to the car behind me. “Have to keep the line moving.”
I say a few choice words under my breath and pull around. This day just keeps getting worse.
It takes me twenty minutes to get back to the front of the line. I know this because I listened to a song that’s ten minutes long—twice. There’s no one behind me and still, there is no sign of the kids.
Now I’m worried.
“Oliver!” I yell as I jump out of the car. “Where are they? This isn’t normal. I’m calling Wes.”
He puts his hands over my phone to stop me. “That won’t be necessary.”
