Jami flung Toby’s soaked shirt at the door as it closed. The material hit the wood, then plopped to the floor with a splat.
“Mom?” Toby sat up in his underwear, jarred out of playing possum. “Why are you throwing my clothes at Grant?”
“You are awake.” Jami blinked down at her son, embarrassed he’d witnessed her tantrum. Not knowing how to answer his question, she took refuge in her role as mother. “You need to get cleaned up. I don’t want you to catch cold.”
“Did you catch a cold swimming in the lake when you went after my boat? Is that why your nose is red and you’re crying?” Toby asked, concern in his big brown eyes as he studied his mother in a manner too mature for his six years.
“It’s possible,” she fudged, turning from him to get a tissue from a box on the dresser.
“You need to clean up first, Mom.” Toby studied her with a critical eye. “I can wait a while.”
“Maybe I will,” Jami agreed, the fight draining out of her.
“Grant was mad at me ‘cause he likes you,” Toby stated, wrapping his arms around his bare knees. “He was afraid you’d drown, wasn’t he?”
“Well, I didn’t.” Jami gazed at her son, suddenly wondering if he saw the situation more clearly than she could. “I’m fine, you’re fine, and Grant’s Cupid charm is fine.”
“He loves you, Mom. I can tell.”
“You’re a child. You don’t understand such things,” Jami replied, shocked at his statement.
“If you marry Grant, will he be my daddy?” Toby asked, his round freckled face hopeful.
“Grant doesn’t want to marry me.” Jami paced around the room, her wet sneakers squishing into the carpet. She ached everywhere. Her arms were scratched and bleeding, just like her heart.
“Why not? Doesn’t he want to be my daddy?” Toby asked, his eyes wide as he followed his mother’s progress back and forth across the bedroom.
“It’s not you, sweetheart, it’s me Grant doesn’t want.” Jami pivoted around, catching a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror. Her hair plastered down in soggy curls, her wet shirt and jeans clung to her body, and her smeared mascara rimmed her eyes in clown black. She looked awful. And she felt worse.
Jami tried to hide her tears from her son, then noticed him squeeze his eyes shut to sniff back a sob of his own. “If I’d been good, you wouldn’t be fighting with Grant.” A tremor in his voice, Toby added, “And you wouldn’t be so sad.”
“It’s not your fault, tiger.” Jami hated to see the answering hurt in his eyes.
“You were happy when we all played in the lake.” Toby blinked up at his mother. “I was happy, too. I like it when you, me, and Grant are together.”
“Some things aren’t meant to be,” Jami said, heading into the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Hi, Grant.”
Grant glanced up at Toby standing in the bedroom doorway. “Feeling better?”
The boy nodded. “I’m a Zonar soldier, and it’s my job to fix things.”
“What are you fixing?” Grant asked, wiping the excess rubbing alcohol off Cupid and replacing the brooch in the drawer as the boy bounced into the room.
“Just things. My mom’s in the tub,” Toby announced, halting a few feet away from Grant and watching him closely.
“So she doesn’t know you’re in here?”
“Nope. She’d probably get grumpy.”
“Then maybe you’d better go,” Grant replied, wondering why Jami’s opinion wounded him so much.
“We need to have a guy-to-guy talk.” Toby held his ground, fists clenched at his sides as he stared up at Grant.
“What about?” Grant asked, intrigued.
“I want you to marry my mom.”
“You what?” Grant shook his head to clear it. He must be hearing things. Maybe his ears were still clogged with water.
“Sierra told my mom that you were Mr. Right and that Mr. Right would make her happy. Mom’s real sad, right now. I want her to be happy.”
“Your mom doesn’t want to marry me,” Grant said, pain stabbing his heart the way Cupid tended to stab his palm.
“Mom says you don’t want to marry her.” The boy shot a knowing glance up at the man. “Is it because of me? Because I’m so naughty?”
“No way, Toby. We’re partners, right?” Grant patted Toby’s head. “I can’t marry your mom, because she doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Maybe you and Mom could have another dress-up dinner together? I think she liked that,” Toby offered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and teetering toe to heel and heel to toe in his sneakers.