Page 31 of Viper
The man never calls me…
He chuckles, “Yeah, sweetheart, both are good. I uh, have a favor to ask of you,” he clears his throat and asks, “I was wondering if you’d pick Tate up for me from preschool, and my dad will pick her up at yours around six?”
I clear my throat and look down. I haven’t seen the Tate in a while, not with everything that has happened with Viper and the fact that she’s gone through a lot. I should decline. I’m not feeling one hundred percent, and given how low I’ve been feeling, watching Tate may not be the best idea.
“I know it’s short notice, but not only has she been asking to see her Lake, her words, not mine, but I want to uh, I want to finally propose to Sky...” He says when I don’t say anything and my mouth parts, my eyes widen.
“You’re proposing?” I confirm with a gasp as I place my hand on my stomach with anticipation.
He hums and admits, “I am, and Tate still can’t be around the brothers with their cuts on, so I thought why not get Auntie Lake to pick her up as a surprise.”
He’s proposing. Skylar is finally getting her happily ever after…
My eyes tear, and without meaning, I let out a sobbed squeal in delight, happiness like no other filling me, and I cry, “You’ve finally got your head out of your ass!”
Fury laughs and confirms, “So, you’ll get Tate then?”
“Of course I will,” I shout,“Go make that woman yours, you idiot!”
Laughing he replies, “Yes, ma’am,” before hanging up and I pull my phone from ear before my smile slowly leaves my face. The happiness I just felt leaving me and suddenly I wish he was still on the phone so I can keep hold of the happiness, instead a little bit of jealousy and resentment fills me and I hate it instantly.
Skylar gets her happily ever after and honestly, I can’t think of a more deserving person. Especially after the horror she’s had to go through but as selfish as it makes me, I know I won’t get mine. I won’t get that white wedding or picket fence with two point five kids because I can’t see myself with anyone else.
I could say it’s all me, that I’m holding back from Viper, from speaking about everything. Apologizing for not mentioning names, not trusting him enough to tell him about Cherri instead of giving him the basic, ‘my mama didn’t want me,’ speech but it isn’t. It’s both of us and now we’re toxic and I feel like I’m slowly drowning without the man I fell in love with, a man I know has moved on.
Shaking my head, I walk over to my kitchen table and grab my purse and keys before heading to the door.
You never know, maybe an afternoon with Tate would be uplifting.
Sighing, I pull into the preschool’s parking lot, quickly finding a space and parking before taking a big breath, trying to get myself ready to become ‘chirpy’ again.
It’s getting harder and harder to hide, though, and I don’t even know why I hurt so much. We weren’t even together for a year.
Shaking my head, I climb out of my truck and walk over to the large colorful building.
“Hi, I’m here to pick up Tate Johnson,” I say as I walk inside and over to the desk, where the brunette sitting behind it looks up at me.
“Lake Marshall?” she confirms, and I hum, “Yes.”
“Can I see your ID, please?” she asks, and I nod, getting my purse out of my bag before we hear, “Auntie Lake!” and I chuckle, looking behind the desk to see Tate jumping up and down near the large window, waving at me.
The woman behind the desk grins, and I show her my ID, knowing she’ll still want to see it even if Tate has called out for me, because you can’t be too careful. She checks over my details and picture thoroughly before handing them back to me and says, “I’ll go grab her before she tries to break out,” and I nod, smiling as I notice Tate jumping up and down now near the door with excitement.
“Auntie Lake, Auntie Lake!” Tate calls excitedly, her brown hair swishing in a ponytail as she rushes over to me.
“Hey little darling,” I say as I catch her, lifting her in my arms before hers go around my neck, squeezing me tightly.
“I missed you,” She whispers, and guilt builds inside that I haven’t been there for her lately like I normally would be.
“I’m sorry, Tate,” I whisper before she leans back and cups my cheeks.
She demands, “Have you been saving people?”
I grin and reply, “I have,” minus the little five-year-old whose mother is suing me, but I don’t say that, and she nods andreplies, “Okay, then you are forgiven,” and I chuckle while the receptionist giggles at Tate’s antics.
Shaking my head, I ask, “Would you like to go to the park?”
She squeals, “Yes!” and I laugh as the receptionist hands me her bag, and I say, “Thank you,” before I walk out with Tate still in my arms as she tells me all about her day.
