Right With Me - Stacey Lewis Page 0,51
what people think about him. You’d think that would mean he’d put forth an effort with our son so people would praise him, but he hasn’t thus far. I’ll honestly be shocked if he actually shows up this morning. It would be just like him to make the plans, force me to get myself and Connor up, ready, and out the door so early just to stand me up.
Getting Connor up, dressed and fed before we have to leave is an ordeal. If we didn’t have somewhere to go, the kid would have been up at six and wanting to play. Because I need him up and pleasant, he fought me on getting up and then screamed the whole time he was getting dressed. He didn’t want to wear the clothes I picked out, and after trying to force his stiff limbs into the shirt and jeans I pulled out of his drawers, I let him pick his own.
Talk about regret. Connor clearly wants his dad to think I’m color-blind and homeless. The shirt he insists on wearing has a rip near the hem and stains I’m afraid to even attempt to identify. For pants, he’s wearing a pair of sweats that are almost too small for him, so I let him stay in just his underwear until breakfast is finished. I’m hoping he’ll let me put real clothes on him before we leave because there’s no way I’m showing up for the first visit with his father in a year with him looking like I can’t afford to buy clothes for him.
After breakfast, he finally does let me put better clothes on him, but that might have something to do with the fact that while he was eating a waffle and banana slices I hid what he was trying to wear.
By the time we’re both finally ready to go I want to take a nap, but that’s not an option I have available. Besides, Mitchell is coming over to ride with us, and he shows up right as I’m debating on going back to bed and pretending today isn’t happening.
“Hey,” he greets me when I open the door. He’s cleaned up his beard since I saw him the other day when he dropped Evie off at school. It’s a good look on him and makes me want to see if it’s still as soft as it was when he was kissing me last weekend. Thoughts I shouldn’t be having right before meeting up with Seth.
Grabbing Connor’s hand after I return his hello, we follow him out to my car where he holds out a hand for my keys. I look up at him in question because it’s my car we’re taking today, not his, since mine has Connor’s seat in it already.
“I’m driving.”
Oh Lord, here we go. “Uh, no, you’re not. My car, I’m driving.”
Mitchell shakes his head and gives me a look like he feels sorry for me. “Sorry, Hails, but I’m not riding shotgun… ever.”
Of all the chauvinist… “Why?” I’m not sure why I ask the question because I’m sure I already know the answer. “That’s such a guy way to be.”
“Uh, sweetheart?” He runs a hand along his front. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a guy.”
I wave him off. “Whatever. Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you can’t be a passenger in a car.”
He huffs out a laugh before smirking over at me. “I know that. But, still, I’m driving.”
“Fine.” I hand over the keys even though I’d prefer to throw them right at his smug face. Once Connor is secured in his seat with his favorite two trucks, I get in on the passenger side, still grumbling about men and their inability to be reasonable. Mitchell ignores me of course, so I choose the radio station before he gets a chance to. “If you get to drive, I get to pick what we listen to.” His smirk turns into a grimace when I turn on the station playing the most bubblegum pop music I know of.
The ride to the park where we’re meeting Seth goes by way too quickly, and before I’m ready, we’re pulling into the parking lot where I can see his car already waiting. When I look down at my watch, I can see we’re ten minutes early, but because he was here first, he’ll probably still complain we’re late. And then there’s the fit he’s likely to throw when he sees Mitchell with me. Seth is the king