Page 10 of Grumpy Girl and Amaryllis

I make it back in time to clean her up and then myself.

Not wanting to waste a moment, I rush to her and curl around her, holding her in my arms.

In the calm of the late evening, she whispers, “I’m told I’m hard to love, but you’re easy to love, Croix.”

My heart smiles, but I don’t say anything. She thinks I’m asleep. With the bit, I know of her, she wouldn’t confess that unless she thought I wouldn’t hear her.

At least not yet anyway.

And I’ll keep her secret close, just like her.

Mari

Croix wrapshis arms around me as we flip pancakes on the griddle and turn the bacon over. He kisses my neck, and I can’t help my giggle at the tickles his morning stubble incites.

This is fun, almost picture perfect, and I can’t help but remember the sunrise lovemaking we already enjoyed. If I’m extra sweet, maybe I can get a repeat performance with him before he has to leave, and my kids come home from their father’s.

The front door opens, and Ash comes running into the house.

Croix and I leap away from each other.

“Mr. Young?” He skids to a halt. “What’re you doing here?”

Shock, fear, and embarrassment rack through me as my son eyes his teacher in our kitchen.

“Your mom asked me to help her make breakfast.”

I let out a sigh at his quick reply while I stay froze in place. Thankfully he didn’t lie to my son either. That’s the truth. I invited him to stay for breakfast and now it’s something I’m regretting. I should’ve known my Dave would drop them off early. He’s always in a rush to get somewhere.

“Cool, can I have some?” Ash seems oblivious to what’s really at stake here.

“Of course, sweetie. Where’s your dad?”

“Outside, getting Iris’s dance stuff out of the truck.” My son frowns, and my heart drops. “He’s grumpy today.”

And that will most likely lead to me being grumpy, too.

But I can’t let him get into the house. There’s no telling what he would do.

I kiss my son’s head. “Figures,” I mutter under my breath. “I’ll be right back.”

I’m eyeing Croix and biting my lip as I work up the courage to see my ex. It always takes way too much out of me and I need to stop that. He’s not worth the worry, but when it comes to my kids, I have to keep the peace.

He smiles and pushes his hand forward. “I got this.” Bacon pops on the stove, and he drops the spatula. “Promise, I got this.”

I bite down on my laugh and kiss Ash’s head again.

Outside, Dave slams the truck door. I watch him as he, with his receding hairline and slowly descending beer belly, wrestles with our daughter’s bags.

“Seriously, Iris, next time, don’t bring all this shit over.” His eyes are hard, and his mouth is pinched.

My sweet girl’s face is crushed, and she doesn’t look up. “But, dad, I love to dance. I need it.”

“It’s a waste of time. Concentrate on school. That’s what’ll get you places, not tap dancing your way across the stage.”

I huff and cross my arms. It’s times like these that I wonder what has happened. Had he always been like this, and I didn’t see it? Or did this grow and come out of nowhere? No, it was there. He could always dish the advice, but taking it, hell no. He was Mr. Fucking Perfect.

All I know is I’m thankful he’s not my mess anymore. I’m only saddened for my kids because he never used to speak to them like this. He’s gone into a whole new arena of asshole.

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