his pocket and pinned her in his gaze, glanced at the calendar, then back at her. “You’ve made it clear you don’t have time for me. When I ask you to do something, it’s always P.J. has baseball, or Emma has ballet, some class project, or . . . I don’t know, a bake sale that requires you to make a thousand cookies.”
“You’re the one who plays golf every Saturday and most Sundays.”
He held her gaze but waved his hand toward the calendar. “Because my family isn’t home. The only time I see the kids is when I’m driving them somewhere you planned, and we don’t even do that together. I see more of you on Instagram than I see you in real life.”
That stung. She wanted to deny it outright but couldn’t. “I want you to be there with us.”
“I’m working all week to pay for all the things that take you guys away from me.” He sighed and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at her again. “I get they need something to do. But they don’t need to do everything, all the time. By the time we finish with Spanish lessons, swimming, and whatever other sport you’ve got them in for the season, the weekend is gone. It’d be nice to go to the beach or hiking together. Hell, I’d love a whole weekend at home just hanging out playing board games and watching movies and stuffing ourselves on microwave popcorn.”
That sounded like bliss. “We could do that.”
“When? In the hour between one playdate and a birthday party for some kid in their class they aren’t even friends with?”
“All the kids get invited to the parties so no one gets left out.”
“That doesn’t mean they have to go to every single one. They need to know that family time matters.”
Frustrated and at her wit’s end, she snapped. “What does that have to do with us going on a date?”
“Time. And the fact you don’t have any for me.”
“Are you guys fighting?” P.J. asked from the kitchen entry.
“No,” Amy said.
“Yes.” Rex dared her to contradict him again with a sharp look. “Put your shoes on, kiddo. Let’s give Mom the night off from cooking and go pick up burgers.”
“Yes!”
Rex waited for P.J. to run to his room to get his shoes before saying, “Something needs to change around here, Amy. You’re always telling me to tell you how I feel. Well, I feel left out. I feel like you schedule all this stuff because you don’t want to be with me.”
“That’s not true.” She hated that he felt that way.
He glanced at the damn calendar again. “Really? Sure looks that way to me.”
P.J. and Emma appeared in the entry, side by side, looking nervous about them arguing in the kitchen.
Emma smiled up at her dad. “I want to go, too.”
Rex scooped her up and hugged her close. “Absolutely, princess. I bet you want french fries.”
“And a chocolate shake?” Hesitation and hope filled her soft voice.
Amy didn’t even bother to try to deny her daughter the sweet treat or Rex a moment to spoil the kids with junk food.
“Shakes all around,” Rex announced, as he touched P.J.’s back to get him moving toward the front door. “Say good-bye to Mommy.”
P.J. and Emma said in unison, “Bye, Mommy.”
The front door closed behind them and Amy felt her stomach drop. She and Rex had had this same argument over and over again the past couple years, but now they rehashed it every few weeks.
She wanted to give her kids everything. She wanted them to experience all kinds of things.
She wanted more time with Rex.
More family time would be so nice.
She looked at her color-coded life hanging on the pantry door and thought about all she’d given up to be a mother. Oh, she loved it. But the satisfaction and joy waned as she lost herself in it. Everything she did was for the kids. She barely had time for herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she did something fun just because she wanted to do it.
Sierra got that great job.
When did her own life turn into one endless art project, bake-off with the other moms, and cheerleading for her kids?
Amy wiped her palms down her chic yoga pants. She couldn’t remember the last time she put on a sexy dress and heels. Hell, she barely remembered the last time she didn’t go to bed in an old T-shirt and flannel shorts, let alone the last time