Page 2 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Something red and fuzzy waved in front of my face, blocking my line of sight, and I blinked.

“Here we go,” Emma said, setting the three glasses on the table. “Drinks.”

“Guh,” I said, feeling like I had already downed a bottle of vodka when I hadn’t taken so much as a sip yet. “I mean, thank you.”

“Luke gave you a sugar-rimmed glass and a curly lime twist because, and I quote, ‘she likes that fancy shit.’”

I smiled at my drink. “I do like that fancy shit.” I peered around Emma and mouthed thank you to Luke, who nodded in return. I sneaked a peek toward Mr. Hot Nerd, but he was gone. Strangely deflated, I took a quick gulp of my drink.

“So, tell us what else happened. You dropped off Jessica, stayed to talk, and now you were what? Twenty minutes late?” Suzie prodded. “Then what happened?”

“Right. Well.” My phone buzzed. Mom again. I hit ignore, even though I knew it was a losing battle. Grace Locklear was not one to be ignored. “So then Christine Liebowitz called—you know, the president of the PTA?”

Suzie and Emma nodded dutifully, even though they did not know. Neither of them had kids old enough to be in high school. Suzie’s oldest was seven, and Emma didn’t have kids at all. I sighed, feeling ancient compared to my friends, even though I was only thirty-two. Maybe being a teen mom aged me before my time.

“Are you sure you want to hear all this?” I asked. “It’s not very interesting.”

“It’s not about us. You need to hear it,” Emma said cryptically.

“Okay. Well, Christine called and asked me to drop off the PTA treasurer’s report so she could get the new principal up to speed before school starts next week. So I had to go back home, grab the report, drop it off at Christine’s house, and then I came straight here. And that’s why I was forty-two minutes late.”

Emma and Suzie exchanged another look.

I blew out a sigh, feeling the weight of their disapproval. “I already said I was sorry.”

“It’s not about you being late,” Suzie said. “Not really. We love you, and of course we’ll wait for you. But—”

“But twelve, Kate,” Emma interjected. “Twelve. That’s how many fourth Fridays there are in a year. You get twelve nights a year where you don’t have to take care of anyone but yourself. And I know you love Jessica more than anything, and you want to take care of her, and there’s nowhere you would rather be than with her—”

“Hey, now,” Suzie said. “Don’t go perpetuating that stereotype of the martyr mom. You can love your kids and still need a break from them. Breaks are good. They’re healthy. They make you a better mom. Trust me. I couldn’t leave my kids fast enough tonight, and I feel zero guilt about that. Sam is a great dad, and they’ll all have fun doing pizza and a movie. And tomorrow, Sam is spending the afternoon hiking with some friends. Trust me when I say he doesn’t feel guilty about it, either.”

“But I don’t have a Sam,” I said. “I had a George. But George is…” Dead. I let the word go unsaid. Even now, ten years later, I didn’t like to say it out loud.

“We know. We get it,” Emma said gently. “None of this is easy.”

I played with the stem of my glass, frowning. If anyone understood, it would be Emma. Her life hadn’t been easy, either, after she lost her mother to cancer when she was nineteen.

But Emma didn’t know what it was like to be a teen mom, and she didn’t know what it was like to tell her four-year-old daughter that daddy was never coming home again. She didn’t know what it was like to be married and then widowed before she was even legally old enough to drink.

“Our point,” Suzie said, after a short pause, “is that it’s okay to tell people no. This is your night, and you only get twelve a year. Take the time for yourself. Enforce boundaries. Tell people no.”

“Can I say no to this conversation?” I muttered. “Because it sucks.”

“No,” they said in one voice, and then laughed.

“We’re only saying this because we love you,” Emma added. “And because you’re always late.”

My phone buzzed again. It was a text this time. Stop avoiding me. You know what this is about. I grimaced. Another thing I couldn’t say no to, but I wasn’t going to think about that right now. “Can we please talk about something else? We’re supposed to be having fun.”

“All right,” Suzie said, relenting. “We can talk about something fun. For thirty minutes, anyway. This is the first time I’ve been out of the house in two months, and I have to tell you, my stamina for staying awake past eight is at an all-time low. I’m exhausted.”

I gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. My days as a mom to a newborn were so long ago that they seemed like a hazy dream now, but I remembered the exhaustion.

“I have to leave soon, too,” Emma said. “Eli is covering for me at Holiday House, but it’s his first Saturday night off in a month, so I should get back.” Eli was her boyfriend, and the town’s only full-time police officer.

I drained the last of my drink. “We can go now.”

They exchanged a look and I fought the urge to knock their heads together. I was getting really tired of that. If they had something to say about me, they could at least have the courtesy say it out loud.

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