Page 13 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

“Yeah, we better get going.”

And I better look up the confession schedule.

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RACHEL

“And then he whipped off his diaper full of poo and came running at me screaming, ‘Poo-poo, poo-poo’ while he flung it all over the room. His little wienie was dangling and flopping around. Oh, my God. I laughed so hard…” Emily laughs and shakes her head.

I practically choke on the coffee I just took a sip of and have to smack my chest to get it down my throat rather than spew it all across the table.

Oh, my God!

Once I manage to swallow my coffee, the laughter bubbles up, and I drop my head back against the top of the red-vinyl booth and let it flow so obnoxiously, the table next to us glares.

They can chill.

It’s a loud diner on a Sunday after church, not a five-star restaurant on a Saturday night. Their kids are making more noise than I am. And this story deserves a full-on meltdown type laugh.

I shake my head and swipe at the laugh-tears forming in my eyes. “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

Picturing little baby Flynn running around like that…so damn cute. I grab his arm and squeeze it, and he groans and sinks next to me on the bench of our booth. If he had a hat, he would probably tug the brim over his face to hide the red blush across his cheeks.

“Seriously, Mom, do we have to tell these poop stories?”

Yes, yes, we do. We absolutely do.

If Mom were here, she would probably be jumping in with similar embarrassing anecdotes about Bash, Jameson, and me, too. It’s such a “mom” thing to do, and it makes me miss her even more. This entire line of conversation has totally made my day. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. And I really needed it.

As much as I want to insist on not wallowing, another breakup feels like another step back from finding the future I really want. And if I take any more in the wrong direction, I don’t know if I’ll ever regain the way forward. I’ll spend the rest of my life being Alicia and Cade’s third wheel and then Flynn’s when he finally finds his perfect person.

Emily laughs and holds up her hands in surrender. “All right, all right. No more poop stories.”

Flynn narrows his eyes at her. “No more stories. Period. Right, Mom? Rachel has heard enough about my childhood for one day.”

The strain in his voice has me smothering my laugh with my hand. I shouldn’t be laughing so hard at his expense but come on…that’s hilarious.

He turns his head to glare at me, his gray-blue eyes flashing with annoyance. Flynn’s obvious distress sobers me quickly, though, and I remove my hand and take another sip of my coffee.

Kids really do the funniest things, and baby Flynn must have been precious. I definitely need to ask Emily to bring some pictures next time.

Flynn turns back to his mom and gives her a pointed look. “Mom, Rachel doesn’t need to know this stuff. Really.”

I elbow him in the ribs. “Maybe I don’t need to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

The corner of his mouth tips up into a smile that he’s definitely fighting. It’s good to know he can still joke around and be playful even when he’s annoyed with his mom and likely me for ganging up on him.

I wink at him. “It’s always good to have blackmail material on your best friend.”

His smile only grows, and he shrugs. “I guess I’m fucked, then.”

Emily’s eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. “Flynn Joseph McAllister! Language!”

He scoffs and holds up his hands as another laugh bursts from my chest. “Sorry, Mom.”

She tsks under her breath, then leans forward to place her elbows on the table and rests her face in her palms. Her eyes—so similar to her son’s—dart between us. “You two have been best friends for a long time.”

Flynn shifts and glances out the window to his right, though there doesn’t appear to be anything that interesting out there, just Sunday morning traffic winding lazily through town. “What’s your point, Mom?”

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