Page 22 of Owned By The Cowboy
“Did you check the living room?” I call back, pulling on myrobe and padding to the kitchen to start coffee. First day of school. How did I forget it was the first day of school? Oh yeah, I was too busy masturbating to my fantasies about a certain cowboy. Mother of the year…
“Found it!” she calls back, then immediately: “But I can’t find my schedule!”
“Kitchen table,” I say, because I printed out all three schedules last night and organized them in a neat little pile like the responsible mother I’m pretending to be.
Annalise appears in the kitchen doorway in her new school uniform, plaid skirt, white blouse, navy cardigan, looking like a tiny professional.
“Do I look okay, Mama?”
“You look perfect, baby girl.” And she does. Her hair is in neat braids courtesy of last night’s preparation, and her backpack is almost as big as she is. I smile, smoothing her hair.
Jaylen stumbles in next, curls sticking up in every direction, wearing jeans and a Green Fields High t-shirt we bought during orientation.
“Coffee,” he mumbles, making grabby hands at my mug.
“Make your own,” I tell him. “And eat something.”
We manage to get everyone fed, backpacks checked, and loaded into the car with minimal drama. Annalise chatters nonstop about her new teacher and whether there will be swings on the playground. Nia sits silently, earbuds in, staring out the window with the carefully neutral expression she’s perfected. Jaylen keeps checking his phone.
Drop-off at the elementary school goes smoothly. Annalise practically skips into her classroom after giving me a quick hug. The middle school is also uneventful, with Nia disappearing into the crowd of eighth-graders like she’s been there forever.
Jaylen’s drop-off at the high school takes longer because he stands outside the building for a full minute, staring at the entrance like it might bite him.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just… different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Don’t know yet.”
He gives me a quick side hug, which is more affection than I’ve gotten from him in weeks, and heads toward the building. I wait until he’s inside before driving away.
The rest of my day passes in a blur of unpacking boxes, organizing our new house, and trying not to think about four-thirty. I have lunch with Mama, who spends the entire meal making not-so-subtle comments about how nice it is that Blayne is helping with the dance situation. I work on a hem for Mrs. Patterson (no relation to Jennifer, thankfully) and manage to thread my sewing machine without help. Yay, me!
By three o’clock, I’ve changed twice and reorganized my sewing room for the third time today. I finally settle on a simple blue blouse and dark jeans, sober but not too formal, fitted but not too tight. The kind of outfit that says, “I’m a mom” and definitely not “I spent half the night rubbing my clit to thoughts of your big body.”
I pick up my kids at three-fifteen, and they’re full of stories about their first day. Annalise loves her teacher and made a friend named Emma. Nia admits the school is “not that bad” and that her English teacher seems “okay.” Jaylen reports that the football coach wants to see him at tryouts next week and that the cafeteria food is surprisingly decent.
Normal first-day-of-school chaos that should be my focus, but I keep glancing at the clock.
Four-twenty-five.
Four-twenty-eight.
Four-twenty-nine.
At exactly four-thirty, I hear his truck in the driveway.
“That’s Blayne!” Annalise yells, abandoning her after-school snack to run to the window.
“Remember what we talked about,” I tell her, trying to calm my racing heart. “This is work. You can say hi, but then you need to let us be.”
“I know, Mama.”
The knock comes a moment later, and I take a deep breath before opening the door.
Blayne’s standing on my porch holding a garment bag, wearing jeans, another Henley, and his hat. When he removes it, his hair looks deliciously messy.
