Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,36

keep standing up for herself, keep growing into a person that Rylie would be proud of one day.

A person she could be proud of.

Her.

Yes, for once she was as important to herself as the rest of the people in her universe.

Progress.

Small progress.

But she’d take it, just like she’d continue taking these baby steps moving forward.

Brian hadn’t shown up.

Again.

Fucking hell.

And now Rylie was playing on the deck, having avoided the sand because Brian didn’t like it in his car, and as the hours went on, her daughter’s face got sadder and sadder.

“Shit,” she muttered, putting her book aside and picking up her cell.

She’d thought they were done with this.

She’d thought that with their lives separated that Brian would be able to put away the anger he’d been fostering toward her and focus on the innocent being they’d created together.

Instead . . . he didn’t show up.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” she said, forcing herself to modulate her tone.

“Okay,” Rylie said.

And it was the just said part that was the problem. Because Ry didn’t talk at a normal volume. She yelled and cheered, filled every word with excitement.

Except . . . with Brian.

Ugh.

Because she’d learned that behavior from Shannon.

Well, no more.

So, instead of going around the corner like she always did, instead of quietly talking in the corner, listening to Brian berate her while trying to get a word in edgewise, she sucked in a deep breath, forced herself to sit back into her chair, and dialed her ex’s phone number.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

Voicemail.

Asshole.

She took another breath, listened through Brian’s voice telling her to leave a message. Then after the beep, she said, “You were supposed to be here three hours ago to take your daughter for the night. You missed out on spending time with our wonderful girl. Again. She’s awesome and strong and sweet and kind and she wants to spend time with her dad.” Another breath. “Not have her heart broken because you can’t be bothered to show up. Again.” Shan’s eyes slid closed. “I’m calling only to tell you that this will not happen again because I’m having Alberto renegotiate our custody agreement, so it never happens again.”

Then she hung up.

Phone on the table, book in her hand, deep breath to concentrate on the words.

This was fine. She could do this.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“You sounded mad.”

Shannon’s throat burned. “I am mad, Rylie boo.”

“At me?”

She pushed out of her seat, hurried over to her daughter. “No, baby. Not at you at all. I love you so much.” She cupped Ry’s cheek. “I’m mad that you were waiting. I’m mad that you missed out on a fun time. But I’m not mad at you. I love you.”

Ry nodded, but her expression didn’t clear.

Fuck.

Shannon slipped her arm around her. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“I know.”

“But it’s also okay to find stuff that makes us happy.”

Ry tilted her head up, eyes coming to Shannon’s. “What makes you happy?”

“You.” Her daughter made a face. “And ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

She nodded, lips tugging up at the edges. “Yup.”

“Can we get some?”

Another nod. “Yeah, baby. We sure can.” She stood. “Let’s go get our jackets on and get root beer floats from the diner, okay?”

Ry grinned. “Root beer floats? Really?”

“Really really.”

And maybe she was giving her daughter poor coping skills or putting an improper emphasis on food and her daughter’s relationship with it. But know what? The root beer floats at the diner were the best. They did make her feel better and . . .

Did she really need to worry about and measure out every single thing she did?

Could she just relax about the expectations?

Could she and Ry just be? Just live and not stress over everything?

A year ago she would have said no.

Today, she knew that if her life and her daughter’s was going to be a happy one, then she’d have to.

But that was okay because she wanted to.

“Root beer floats!” Ry shouted, running for the house, presumably for her jacket.

“Root beer floats?” a masculine voice asked, sending heat arrowing down between Shannon’s thighs. She spun, saw Finn there. “Hey, Blue Eyes,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Yup,” she told him. “Ry and I are going to get root beer floats at the diner.”

“Spoiling your dinner?”

A shrug. “Probably.” Then she did something that fit right in with her promise to worry less, to live more, to be more for herself and her daughter. She grinned up at Finn and asked, “Want to have your world rocked again?”

He stepped closer, voice going husky. “What do you have in mind?”

Wobbling