Page 68 of Catching Our Moment
There was an attempt to open the front door then pounding. And if it was possible to hear annoyance in a knock, it was there.
I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and smoothed down my hair, straightened my shirt…Shaw’s shirt…and no pants.
There was more annoyed knocking followed by the doorbell. “Kelcie, hurry up. It’s cold out here.”
Screw it. He wasn’t my father, and he wasn’t my husband. And if it wasn’t for my son, I’d have left him out there and dragged Shaw back into my room.
I opened the door and ushered them in.
“Hey, Mom!” Aaron came storming in, dropped his duffel bag, and walked right past me and into the kitchen. “Ohhh…cinnamon rolls!”
James eyed me from my head to my bare toes and caught sight of the shirt. He followed Aaron into the kitchen as if he were more than just a visitor, his head swiveling from side to side, scanning for someone or something incriminating.
Aaron ran back into the room. “Mom, I’m going to go see Shaw. I worked on my spiral with Uncle Mike yesterday. I want to show him.”
“Um, okay.” He was out the door before I could stop him.
An awkward silence settled over us as James watched Aaron leave.
“I thought you weren’t bringing him home until Sunday?”
James nodded at my oversized man’s shirt, and then his eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Did we interrupt something?”
“No.”
“You made cinnamon rolls just for yourself, then?”
“You know I love them.”
He traced the edge of the counter. “Aaron told me you had a date last week. A guy you met at work, he said. I just wasn’t sure if you needed to sneak someone out before he came back.”
I shifted on my feet. “No. There isn’t anyone else here.”
He tapped the counter, ending that part of this awkward conversation. “Aaron wanted to watch the games with Shaw.” He tilted his head with a forced smile and a change in his tone.
“So, you guys threw the football with Aaron? That sounds fun,” I said, walking around the kitchen island to stop feeling so undressed and vulnerable around my ex-husband.
He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at his shoes. “Mike threw the ball with him.” Mike, the older brother he had nothing in common with, the one he was always being compared to…great. “He told Mike all about playing football with Dawson Shawfield and how he was going to be his football coach.”
Yikes.
James took in a deep breath through his nose, the way he usually did just before he told me how annoyed he was, and closed his eyes. “This obsession with football…it’s a disaster waiting to happen, Kelcie.”
The back door opened, signaling Aaron’s return. I wasn’t about to get into it with him again.
“Why the early return?”
“You mean, besides the fact that Aaron wanted to come back and watch football all weekend with Shaw?” James’s tone was laced with scorn that was too light for Aaron to pick up.
“Dad wanted to come home,” my son said as he came around the corner, taking off his jacket.
“And Aaron didn’t want to do anything but watch football or play football,” James said, sounding as juvenile as he often acted.
Ignoring his father, Aaron said, “So, Dad said if I was going to do that, we might as well come home.”
It was my turn to cross my arms. I leaned against the island.
Aaron eyed the rolls. “Shaw said he was coming over as soon as he gets dressed.”
