back asleep. And with her in my arms, in my bed, under my roof, I sleep easy.
_______________
I stand on the opposite side of the island from the boys, watching the two of them scarf down the breakfast I made them like it’s a race to see who can finish first.
“Done!” Mitchell proclaims himself the winner while chewing the sausage patty he shoved into his mouth whole.
“Should I get you a trophy for your accomplishment?” I ask, and he grins at me as he slides off his stool with his plate to take it to the sink.
“Dad,” Max calls, and the tone of his voice has me focusing on him. “I...” He presses his lips together then looks past me toward his brother, and I look over my shoulder at my oldest.
“What is it?”
“Max was wondering when we’d have another movie night with December,” Mitchell says, and I turn back to Max.
“You want to hang with her again?” I question, setting my cup down. I didn’t ask him last night if he liked December. I didn’t want to make him feel like he had to say he did by questioning him.
“She’s nice,” he says, ripping his toast into tiny bits, not looking at me. “I guess it would be cool to hang out with her again.”
“I’m sure we can set something up. Maybe not a movie night, since you boys have school this week, but we can have dinner with her,” I tell him.
He looks up and gives me a half smile. “Right on.”
Feeling relief, I dip my chin toward his plate. “If you’re finished, dump your plate in the dishwasher and get packed up. I’ll meet you and your brother in the driveway.”
He gets up, taking his plate with him, and after he rinses it and drops it in the dishwasher, he leaves the kitchen, heading around the island and down the hall toward his bedroom.
“He liked her a lot,” Mitchell says as I’m taking a sip of coffee, and I turn toward him, resting my hip on the counter, and lift my chin for him to continue. “He didn’t think he would, but he does, and now he’s worried about what will happen if you and her keep seeing each other and Mom shows up.”
Shit. Their mom can be a handful on a good day, so I know his concern is valid. I also know I’ve been done with taking her shit for years, so if she shows and tries to stir up trouble, I won’t let it happen. “That’s not something you or your brother need to worry about.”
“I know, but Max still thinks Mom is cool,” he says softly. “He doesn’t get that she’s nuts and that she’s only around when it’s good for her.”
I study my boy, wondering when he started to see things as they are. There was a time he saw his mom the same way Max sees her now, and a part of me wishes he still viewed her in that same light, that he didn’t know how selfish his mother is.
“He doesn’t get it,” he adds.
“Get what?”
He shrugs. “Get that Mom doesn’t really care about us.”
My throat gets tight, and I fight against the anger I feel threatening to take over. I never want my boys to feel unloved, and I have tried to make it so they never will, by giving them good people who they can count on. Unfortunately, I have never been able to control the impact their mother has on their lives any more than I can direct the sun from setting each evening. “Your mom is—”
“A bitch.”
My spine stiffens. “Language. I get that you’re upset with her, but do not ever disrespect her. She’s your mother. She loves you boys.”
“If she did, she would be around.” His jaw ticks. “She’s not around unless it’s convenient, and when she is here, she’s always talking about where she’s going or what she plans on doing next. I’m not stupid; I know she only shows up to make sure we haven’t forgotten her. The thing is… I always forget her the moment she walks out the door, because she doesn’t matter.”
Fuck, my throat gets tight. “I hate you feel that way.”
“I hate that Max thinks she’s perfect, but I also know I won’t be able to change his mind about her. He has to learn that for himself.” He pulls in a breath. “I just….” He pauses to shake his head. “I was just thinking that if you and December