December. She’s sweet, and her family is awesome, and I think I speak for the two of us when I say we’re happy you’re finally dating.”
Shit.
“You deserve someone like her,” Selma adds, and I realize at that moment exactly why Sejla was so adamant about me being open to the idea of having more kids.
December is young, she doesn’t have children, and if she’s like most women, she’s probably thought about having kids of her own. It’s not a subject I’d broach tonight, but it’s definitely something we will have to talk about if things between us progress.
“Just have fun tonight.” Her lips tip up into a smile then she looks at Sejla. “We need to go if we’re going to make it to Nashville in time.”
“Nashville?” I ask, wondering why they’re heading into the city.
“One of our favorite authors is signing at the bookstore downtown,” Selma says, and I roll my eyes. My sisters are both avid readers. If they aren’t working, they’re traveling to reader events all over the world to meet their favorite authors and hang out with their book friends.
“You can bore me with the nerdy details later,” I tell them, and they both laugh as I walk the two of them into the house. I stop in the kitchen to take a frozen pizza out of the freezer, and while I put it on a pan and place it in the oven, they go to say goodbye to their nephews. I meet them at the front door a few minutes later and hug each of them before they leave. Once they’re gone, I knock on Mitchell’s door then Max’s, telling them to keep an ear out for the timer I set for the pizza, hoping one or both of them will hear it.
Getting grumbled agreements from both boys, I go to my room and hop in the shower. Forty minutes later, dressed in dark gray slacks and a burgundy button-down shirt, I head toward the sound of voices in the living room. I find both boys on the couch and the pizza I placed in the oven earlier between them on the coffee table. I start to open my mouth to ask how their homework is coming along, but I freeze when I hear Max ask, “But what if Mom comes back?”
“Dude, seriously?” Mitchell responds instantly, sounding annoyed. “Mom and Dad aren’t together, and they haven’t been together in like… years.”
“I guess you’re right.” Max’s voice is barely above a whisper. “It’s just… when Mom comes around, Dad always seems like he wants her to stay.”
“Dad wants us to have Mom, but that doesn’t mean he wants her,” Mitchell tells his little brother matter-of-factly, and my chest gets tight. “We haven’t seen Mom in months, and Dad should find someone who makes him happy.”
“Do you think...” Max pauses and seems to ponder what he’s going to ask. “Do you think December will make him happy?”
“I don’t know, but I saw them together and—” He cuts off his own words, and I watch as he shakes his head. “She’s nice. Dad deserves someone nice.”
“Mom is nice,” Max says, sounding defensive. Him defending his mom isn’t surprising. Beth has been in and out of his life since he was born, but anytime she’s come around, she has made it a point to bring gifts and make it seem like she’d been on an adventure she couldn’t wait to come back from, just so she could share all her stories with him.
I see an irritated look fill Mitchell’s eyes, and when he sits up straight and starts to open his mouth, I know it’s time to step in. I force my feet to move and my mouth to open before Mitchell has a chance to respond. “I see you two managed to share a pizza. Now, tell me. How’s your homework going?”
“I’m just about done,” Mitchell tells me, and my eyes go to Max.
“I don’t have much left either.”
“If you guys get everything done today, we’ll go to the batting cage tomorrow before the game.”
“We’ll have it done,” Max assures with excitement, and Mitchell nods in agreement with his brother.
“Good,” I say, turning toward the door when it’s shoved open and my mom walks in.
“I brought chocolate chip cookies,” she says in the form of a greeting, holding a Tupperware container in the air.
“Right on!” Max exclaims, jumping off the couch to greet her with a hug before taking the container from her. Mitchell isn’t far behind him