I’m also hit with the unmistakeable smell of baby crap so it doesn’t take much mental energy to work out what’s going on.
“Oh god,” Cox says from a few paces away, his face screwed up with disgust. “I think…”
“Yeah, I know. Hang on a sec, sorry.”
I set my tablet down and lift Chase from the carrier and take him over to the large mahogany desk. I quickly grab a new diaper and a pack of wipes from my backpack before tugging down Chase’s pants and opening his diaper. But when I check it, I don’t see anything. Definitely no poop.
I lift him up to double check his bottom but there’s nothing there. “Huh, no poop. Just a really big stinky, hey bud?”
And it’s at that moment my son decides to let rip with a fire hydrant’s worth of runny, stinking shit.
“Oh my god! Fucking hell! Shit, shit, shit,” I cry as I scramble to try to catch the last bit of the stream in the used diaper, get Chase into the clean diaper and clean up the mess with the wipes.
“Shit, shit, shit, is right,” one of Cox’s friends—Charlie, I think—says from behind me, prompting the other one to let out a booming laugh.
And I don’t even blame them for laughing. This is absolutely the kind of thing I’d find hilarious if I saw it happen to someone else. But right now, all I can do is glance around in horror at the mess my son has made on the antique desk that probably cost thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars. And it’s not just the desk itself. There are little ornaments and gadgets and papers that are all still arranged incredibly neatly, but are now covered in flecks and spatters of Chase’s shit.
And Chase is fucking smiling, the little monster.
Finally, I turn around to face the music. Spencer Cox is staring at the desk, wide-eyed and completely dumbstruck, while both of his buddies are fighting back laughter.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell Cox. “I’ll pay for cleaning. Or I’ll buy a new desk. Whatever. Just please don’t fire our firm over this.”
“Jesus, Spence, put the kid out of his misery,” Sullivan says.
Finally, Cox turns his attention to me. The shock seems to have worn off a little and he’s wearing an amused expression. “I’m not going to fire you. Truthfully, I don’t even like that desk—it reminds me too much of my father. So I guess you could say you did me a favor.”
“Um…you’re welcome?” I say, brows arched in confusion.
“Why don’t you let him down to play on the carpet and we can look at your plans?” Cox suggests. “I’ll get Amelia in here to clean the rest of this mess up.”
Hmm, maybe Spencer Cox isn’t as much of a douche as Shay makes him out to be. And is it bad to be happy the bitch from the phone call today will be dealing with this clean-up?
After the meeting, my first instinct is to text Josh to tell him about the dramatic events. But I decide not to. He’s not my boyfriend—at least not yet; and I have to stop treating him as though he is. If he decides the answer is no and he doesn’t want to date me then I know I’m going to have to take a step back as far as hanging out all the time and getting his help with Chase and texting him at random times during the day goes. Because it’s one thing to just be friends when I can cling on to hope that it’ll turn into more, but if he turns me down I think it might actually kill me to be around him so much without having that hope to hold on to. May as well start training myself not to need him now.
So instead of Josh, I decide to text Laura.
Me: Major poop explosion today. Right on top of a client’s priceless antique desk
Laura Bennett: *laugh enoji* *laugh emoji* *laugh emoji*
Me: Gee, thanks for the sympathy *eye roll emoji*
Laura Bennett: Hey, I’ve been dealing with his shit—LITERALLY—for months. It’s your turn now *stuck out tongue emoji*
Me: I think we need to work out a new custody arrangement. I’ll take him when he’s being all cute and you can have him when he’s shitting all over the place
Laura Bennett: Only if you take him the whole time when he’s a teenager and hates everyone
Me: Deal!
“So, what’s going on with you and Josh?” Laura asks while we’re