Page 42 of The Problem with Fire
What. A. Goddamn. Disaster.
“So, if I asked you to dinner…” Reggie grinned.
“She’d say no, since she already has a boyfriend,” Sayer answered for me, and Thomas scoffed next to me.
“Uh….” Kerry quickly rethought her decision to say something because…really? What was there to say? It looked like I had a husband, boyfriend, and a date.
“Mom, are…are all these dudes…fighting over you?” she asked, confusion lacing every word.
And the Mom in me quickly made an appearance. “Do not refer to these gentlemen as ‘dudes’, Leta,” I chided. “They aren’t teenage boys at your high school.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “But…are they?”
I looked at each man; Thomas irritated, Sayer pissed, and Reggie amused.
Then I looked at my teenage daughter and told her the absolute truth, refusing to play games with these men, and taking back the reins. This wasn’t about the mistakes we made in life, this was about how we handled those mistakes and the people we wronged and who wronged us.
That’s where your integrity was born from.
I refused to let Thomas think he could do no wrong.
I refused to let Sayer think my decisions weren’t my own.
I refused to let Reggie suffer for all our stupidity.
And I refused to lie to Leta any longer.
I wasn’t sure if pure, blunt honesty was the way to go right now, but I really didn’t think things could get any more embarrassing at this point. And with Kerry having a front row seat to this nonsense, I knew there was no way to get out of this unscathed.
“No, Leta,” I told her honestly. “They are not fighting over me. That would imply that I was available for them to fight over, and I’m not.”
On the street, in the middle of a neighborhood barbecue, surrounded by dozens of people and families, you could hear a pin drop.
Her brows shot up. “No, Mom,” she replied wryly. “I’m pretty sure they’re fighting over you.”
“Oh, my,” Kerry whispered.
I placed a hand on my daughter’s arm and started rubbing it up and down. “Mr. James just met me, Leta,” I said, explaining just how wrong she was. “Ms. Florence was doing a bit of matchmaking, I do believe. Mr. James doesn’t know me and has absolutely no reason to get caught up in drama to the point of needing to fight over me.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” he smirked, and when I looked over, the gorgeous man winked at me. If I didn’t die of embarrassment, Mr. Reggie James would make a great friend. He seemed like the shenanigans-type of friend. He seemed the type that would be sitting next to you in a jail cell after a night in Vegas.
Ignoring his flirty ways, I looked back at Leta. “As for your father, he’s just confused,” I told her. “He knows it’d be pointless to fight for me because he knows, deep down, he’d never win.” Her eyes flittered towards her father, then back to me. “Trust me when I tell you it’s nothing.”
Leta nodded, but then her eyes glanced over at Sayer. “What about Mr. Hayes?”
What about Mr. Hayes, indeed?
I told her the truth.
“Leta, Mr. Hayes is a young, good-looking man. He has enough options available to him that he doesn’t need to fight over a middle-aged divorcee.”
Her eyes widened sadly. “Mom-”
“Goddamn it, Monroe,” Sayer snapped. “You know-”
Ignoring and cutting him off, I turned towards Kerry. “Kerry, I appreciate that you were…uh, just trying to help, but in the future, please talk me to about…no one likes to be ambushed, Kerry.”
Her face turned red, but she nodded. “Sorry, Monroe.”
