She already had the shit drawn up.
I told her she’d lost her fucking mind. We argued, and with anger firing through me, I stormed out and walked to the bar down the street—my attempt to drink away the bullshit.
Maybe walking out on her wasn’t the smartest reaction, but she had been fucking smiling. Skipping out of the kitchen as if she wasn’t asking me to sign my life over—a person I’d fallen in love with before he was even here.
I’d give up Heather before I’d ever give him up.
Every day for the next week, she begged me to sign. We’d argue, and I’d head to the bar. I became the bastard in the corner, drinking away his problems. Eventually, I ripped up the papers while Heather sobbed, begging for an out.
And I’d given it to her when I promised we’d stay out of her selfish life.
Noah didn’t need to be around anyone who didn’t want him.
Heather signed over her rights, and three days after his birth, she moved to Vegas. That was when I learned the reason she’d wanted out. She had fallen in love with a man she’d met online. A man who didn’t like children—what a fucking winner—so fuck our child.
I cut off all communication, and we moved on with our lives as if she never existed. As much as I didn’t want my son growing up without a mother, I knew we’d survive. I’d give Noah a happy life without her, and my family and friends have made up for that void pretty damn well.
Better to be without someone than to be with someone who doesn’t love you.
I don’t hate Heather for finding someone else.
I hate her for not standing up to that someone else for our son.
I haven’t spoken to the mother of my child since the day we left the hospital, and I plan to keep it that way.
5
Jamie
My shirt is cute.
The sweat rings underneath my armpits? Not so much.
Those sweat rings didn’t exist twenty minutes ago when I left my house.
Hanging out with Noah and Georgia today has me more nervous than any blind date I’ve gone on.
I park next to a red VW Beetle in Cohen’s driveway. The car has black polka dots on it, like a ladybug, and is hideous.
I’m also pretty sure it belongs to Georgia.
I make a mental note not to tell her it’s hideous.
I can’t mess this up.
No one in my family knows about my visit with them. I kept my mouth shut, scared that Cohen would back out. Hell, who even knows if today is a one-time thing he’s giving me because I came over when Noah was sick?
I fan out my armpits before performing a quick smell check.
Don’t judge me.
A girl doesn’t want to be known as the smelly … doctor … friend … aunt?
Note to self: figure out who the hell Noah thinks I am.
I shake out my hands, as if I were preparing to run a 5K—tried it once and gave it a zero out of ten for fun—and hope Georgia has a better response to me than Cohen did.
My pace is slow as I walk up the steps, and when the front door swings open, Georgia appears in the doorway.
My shoulders relax at the sight of her bright pink lips tilting into a smile.
A smile is good.
“Hey, Jamie,” she says.
“Hi.” I give her a shy wave like the awkward person I am before gesturing to her. “Wow, you look so different … grown up.”
Georgia is a few years younger than I am, and while she’s always been pretty, she’s drop-dead gorgeous now. Her eccentric style hasn’t changed much. Even when she was younger, she was always doing something different—pink stripes in her hair, intense makeup, pigtails with tinsel in them. Today, her hair—what had once been a similar color to Cohen’s—is dyed blond and pulled into two buns at the top of her head, and she’s wearing a crop top with a kimono wrap over it and jeans with holes down the legs.
“Same to you.” She whistles. “You’re hot as fuck.”
My eyes downcast as I blush.
“Come on.” She waves me inside, and I find Noah in the living room, surrounded by a pile of Legos.
He eagerly jumps to his feet, a handful of Legos dropping from his hand. “Hi!” His attention snaps to Georgia, and he points at me. “This is your friend? She was my doctor when I was sick! She even came to our house too!”
His excitement settles my nerves and melts my heart. His T-shirt is black and says, Snack so hard, his pants are ripped in the knees—somewhat like Georgia’s—and he’s wearing checkered Vans. Noah is for sure a mini Cohen, definitely a future heartbreaker.
Georgia snags her black fringed purse from a leather recliner and swoops it over her body. “We’re going on a sugar run. You game?”
I nod. “I’m game.”
Who turns down a sugar run?
Especially in a stressful situation.
Georgia’s car is as uncomfortable as it looks.
I considered suggesting we ride in my car since it’s not the size of a stroller, and the idea of being cramped in it with sweaty pits was nerve-racking. I kept my mouth shut so I wouldn’t look like a pain in the ass already and loaded into her car, sweat pits and all.
Noah is in the back seat, rambling off his favorite snacks while counting them off on his fingers, “Cookies, cupcakes, cake, brownies, sprinkles.”
I take in his every word. If Cohen allows me to see Noah again, I want to be the aunt who takes him out for sugar runs like Georgia.
When Georgia pulls into the parking lot of Sally’s Sprinkles, my stomach twists, the urge to jump out of the car and run hitting me.
Out of all the places for a sugar run.
Georgia parks, kills the engine, and peeks back at Noah. “Remember our rule?”
Noah eagerly nods. “I get two cupcakes, but tell Dad I only had one.”
He laughs, and Georgia high-fives him.
A wave of jealousy swims inside me.
If only Heather hadn’t been so damn selfish, I could’ve had that with him.
Noah unbuckles his seat belt, and he holds Georgia’s hand as we walk into the small cupcake shop. The bell above the door rings at our arrival, and small crowds are circled around tables, shoving their sugary goodness into their mouths.
The owner’s eyes light up when she notices me.
I want to shrink and hide.
I was hoping it was Sally’s day off.
“Jamie!” She beams, sporting the same blue eye shadow and pink lips she’s had for years.
Noah darts to the counter, his feet stomping, and eyes the cupcakes lined up inside the glass counter. My stomach growls, and my mouth waters at the memory of how delicious Sally’s cupcakes are when I stand next to him. The shop was once a weekly stop for me, but two years have passed since I’ve been here.
“Hi, Sally,” I say.
Sally tells them hello, and her attention turns back to me. “I’m glad you came in. Just because you and my Seth broke up doesn’t mean you can’t stop in and enjoy your favorite dark chocolate, peanut butter cupcakes.”
The mention of his name has my gaze darting from one side of the shop to the other.
So far, Seth-free.
The shop hasn’t changed with its bubblegum-pink walls and bright red tables and chairs, and Sally is wearing her Sprinkle Me Up, Baby apron Seth bought her for Christmas a few years back.