Page 49 of 5+Us Makes Seven

“Look, if you want to say goodbye to those kids, then go say goodbye to them. He’s being a little bitch about this and he’s hurting his kids because of this. Go over there, spout some of your educational science mumbo jumbo about how this is detrimental to his children, then hug their necks.”

“Educational science mumbo jumbo?” I asked.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

“What if it makes him angrier?” I asked.

“Who the fuck cares? When did you ever care about pissing someone off?”

“I don’t know. Carter’s struggling with this for some reason. Even if he won’t tell me why and he chooses to push me away instead, that doesn’t mean he isn’t struggling.”

“And I’ll ask again… since when did you care about stuff like that?” she asked.

Emma had a point. I usually never cared about that kind of thing. Making people upset was never an issue for me, especially if I knew I had a point. And I missed the kids. I really did. I would miss them when I left. But Carter was a businessman. He was driven by his want to succeed in the areas that made him happy. And I couldn't for the life of me understand why he didn’t get that. Why he couldn't see that I was doing the same thing.

But I wasn’t going to let him rob me of the proper goodbye I wanted to give his kids. I was supposed to have another money with them, and instead he swooped in, hired someone else, and shoved me aside like I was nothing.

Like I meant nothing.

That wasn’t happening. Those kids were not going to think I had abandoned them. I knew what abandonment felt like. I knew what it felt like to be forgotten. And I’d be damned if those kids were going to think I had left them at the drop of a hat for something greater.

Because that was not what happened.

It was time to put on my big girl panties.

“Fine. Then that’s what I’m going to do,” I said. “I’m going to go over there and say goodbye to those kids.”

“Good for you,” Emma said.

“Carter isn’t going to act like a manchild over this and make it seem like I abandoned those kids.”

“Fuck him,” she said.

“He isn’t going to throw this temper tantrum and think he can shove me out like that.”

“Yeah!”

“I came in there and fixed his life,” I said.

“Yes you did.”

“I straightened his kids up.”

“Hell yeah, you did!”

“I cooked and cleaned and reorganized his entire world. I re-evaluated his children’s schedules and increased their quality of life,” I said.

“You’re the fucking woman, Natasha.”

“And I’ll be damned if Carter’s going to throw that away because he can’t be happy for me,” I said.

“When are you gonna go over there?” she asked.

My doorbell rang out and I gazed out the window. I saw the moving van outside waiting for my boxes to be packed up. I drew in a deep breath and looked over at the clock still on my wall.

We would be done with all of this before lunch.

“Now,” I said. “Can you handle making sure those boxes get in the van?”

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