A Second Chance in the Show Me State - Jessie Gussman Page 0,27

cheese is my favorite.” Dallas stopped to take breath, and Emerson cut in.

“Then let’s start breakfast right now. But...” she emphasized the “but” and looked both boys in the eyes, making sure they were paying attention before she continued. “When you walk in the door,” she nodded her head toward the door that they’d slammed, “you need to make sure it’s shut, that’s right. But you need to shut it gently, because if you keep slamming it like you just did, you can break the glass. It doesn’t need to be slammed. Understand?” She lifted her brows and gave both of her boys the most serious look she had.

They nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry, Mom. It was my fault. I was so excited about getting to help Dad and not having to do school this morning—” Dallas stopped midsentence, his mouth open, his eyes widening and looking at his mom. “We don’t have to do school first, right?”

Before she could answer, Houston jumped in. “We promised Dad that we’d do it tonight while he was at the single dads meeting. We’ll do it right at the kitchen table. We promise.” He looked over at Dallas, who nodded eagerly.

“I promise. I’ll sit in my seat until it’s all done.” He emphasized all of his words, but Emerson shook her head.

“You’re not going to be able to sit in your seat that long. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’ll need to get up and move around. You can probably even do half of your work standing up. And that’s fine. I don’t expect you to sit the whole time.”

Dallas had looked at the ground and kinda kicked a toe into the linoleum. He nodded. “You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry. Sometimes I just say things, and I don’t think about what they mean.”

She nodded. Part of fixing the problem was recognizing he had a problem.

“Good. I’m glad you understand that. It’s just something you need to work on. Just like I have things I need to work on.” Like swallowing her pride and not getting upset over everything that Reid did. Reading things into what he did that she shouldn’t.

She sighed. So much of parenting was looking at herself and realizing that she had the same flaws her children did. Or maybe not exactly the same, but that she still had things she needed to work on. It was so hard to be hard on her children when she had her own areas that were sadly lacking.

Areas that if she could fix, her kids would’ve had a mom and a dad living in the same house, instead of in two different countries.

How could she scold them for slamming the door and promising to sit the whole time they did their schoolwork when her faults had such bigger, nastier consequences?

She felt like a fraud as a parent.

“Are we making eggs, Mom? Can I crack them please?” Houston asked from her other side.

“Of course. You crack the eggs, and, Dallas, you can get the cheese out of the refrigerator. Along with some peppers and onions, and mushrooms if we have them. We’ll make omelets.”

She had the vegetables chopped up, and Houston had just poured the eggs into the skillet, when Reid walked in the door.

Dallas had just said something funny, and both she and Houston were laughing when she looked up to see him filling the doorway.

She couldn’t help it. Her laugh stopped abruptly.

She also couldn’t help that her eyes seemed to get stuck on him.

He wore a sweatshirt, and it stretched across his shoulders. His hat shaded his eyes, but she could feel them on her, see the muscle in his jaw as it ticked back and forth. He’d definitely filled out in the eight years since she left, and she liked it.

She swallowed, blinking and turning back to the stove, trying to remember what in the world she’d been doing. Her breath felt unsteady, and her brain scrambled.

He took his hat off and stepped in, saying to the boys, “Glad you fellas are helping your mom. Maybe she does things a little differently than I do.”

“Oh, she does. She’s a lot more careful about not getting shells in the eggs, and I’m not to put the cheese in until last, and I like to put it in and stir it up and have everything all gooey, but that’s not the way she makes things.” Dallas probably would’ve kept talking, except Reid hung his hat on the peg by the door and walked to the