“Well,” she replied shortly, “it’s still nice to be thought of.”
A knock on the front door ended the conversation abruptly and Mom’s gaze shot up to pin mine as she asked, “Who could that be?”
Fuck. I hadn’t told them I was inviting Audrey. Hell, they didn’t even know there was an Audrey, let alone a Freddy. I pinched my eyes shut and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I invited a couple friends over tonight.”
“Friends?” She said the word like it was foreign and uncomfortable on her tongue, spitting it out through twisted lips.
I didn’t reply as I hurried through the living room to the front door. On the other side was Audrey and Freddy. She had changed, no longer in her witch’s costume, but just as beautiful, and Freddy was still decked out in his Batman garb.
“Hey,” I answered, then grimaced at how breathless I sounded.
“Hey, long time, no see.” She smiled wide, amused by her own lame joke, and my mouth stretched to match.
I welcomed them in, taking her coat and asking if Freddy wanted me to take his cape, to which he declined with more sass than a four-year-old should possess. “So sorry,” I replied with deep sincerity, pressing a hand to my chest. “Jake’s room is right over there, if you wanna go check out his Legos before dinner.”
Freddy looked to his mom for permission, and she said, “Go ahead, pal.”
“Cool,” he said and darted toward Jake’s room. I listened as my dad greeted him with startled interest, and to Freddy’s simple reply, “I’m Freddy, Jake’s new friend. Are you his daddy?”
“Uh, hi, Freddy,” I heard my dad reply. “Yeah, I’m Jake’s father.”
“You wanna play with us?” Freddy asked him, and I listened as my dad stammered awkwardly, “S-sure.”
I laughed as something warmed inside of me as I led Audrey into the kitchen. “That kid of yours is charismatic as fuck,” I complimented. She nodded and said, “He gets it from his dad, I think. I’m definitely not.”
“Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but you are way more charismatic than Jason is.” I shot a wince over my shoulder and she laughed.
“You didn’t like Jason?”
“Hey, don’t go putting words in my mouth. I never said th—”
“Blake, are you going to continue to be rude or are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Mom’s tone was pulled so taut, it was remarkable her vocal cords hadn’t snapped from speaking alone.
I stood in the kitchen doorway, mouth open and eyes wide. But, taking a cue from her son, charismatic Audrey stepped forward. “Hi, Mrs. Carson. I’m Audrey. It’s so nice to meet you.”
My mother offered her hand and as Audrey accepted the gesture, Mom said, “Audrey? Blake never told me about any Audrey.”
It wasn’t what a woman wanted to hear about the guy she was seeing. Or fucking, whatever. I pinched the space between my brows, waiting for an angry glare or a glimmer of hurt in her blue gaze, but neither came. Instead, Audrey simply laughed easily and turned to flash me with a heart-stopping smile. The kind of smile that makes you wish you had a camera, to take a picture and remember that moment, to look back on when everything eventually turns to shit. Just so you can remind yourself that there was once a time when a gorgeous woman looked at you like that. Like it was possible for you to be the center of someone’s entire world, even if only for a second.
And it was the best second of my life.
“Blake doesn’t talk about much, does he?” she teased, and I rolled my eyes playfully. I was flirting in front of my mother and I didn’t even give a shit.
“That’s for sure,” Mom grumbled, sliding her hand from Audrey’s. “He’s a tough one, to put it lightly. But if you’re here, you must’ve done something right.”
I went back to work setting up dinner, busying myself as they continued to talk. Audrey giggled girlishly and shook her head. “Well, I don’t know if it was right. I just didn’t give him a choice.”
***
Mom tapped her fingers against Jake’s wrist to grab his attention. He stared at her blankly for a moment before lowering his headphones. “Jakey, music off. We’re eating dinner,” she scolded gently, taking the headphones from off his neck.
“I like this song. It’s not over. It’s the One Foot Song and it’s not over,” he argued, reaching for her hands.
“You can listen after dinner.”
She bundled his iPod and headphones together and passed them across the table toward me. I eyed her hands contemptuously and asked, “What do you want me to do with that?”
“Take these into the living room, please,” she demanded, urging me to get a move on with a nudge of her chin.
Audrey was sitting beside me and Freddy was sitting beside Jake. They were our guests, and the last thing I wanted them to witness was an argument between my mother and me. But dammit, it was Jake’s birthday and if he wanted to listen to his music while eating his birthday dinner, then what the hell did it matter? So, I took the headphones and iPod from her waiting hand and passed them back across the table.
“Here you go, buddy,” I said, and Jake accepted gratefully.
Mom gawked at me before her brows lowered angrily. “Should I remind you who the parent is here?”
Pulling in a breath that I hoped would fill me with calm, I replied, “It’s his birthday, Mom. If he wants to eat his tacos and listen to music, why can’t he?”
“Because it’s rude,” she disputed.
Any semblance of calm I had gotten from that breath retreated as the anger rolled in. “It’s also rude to argue with me in my house, but hey, that never stopped you before,” I fired back, raising my voice.
“Here we go,” Dad muttered, dropping the last bit of taco shell to his plate. “Don’t fight with your mother tonight, Blake. Come on.”
“I’m not fighting,” I insisted as I reached for my water glass. “I’m just reminding her that when we’re in my house, we follow my rules. And if Jake decides to listen to his music on his birthday, then I say he can.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re not in control over this situation,” Mom spat, taking back the iPod and headphones. “Jake doesn’t make decisions. He can’t,” and with that, she shoved away from the table in a huff, stomping her way into the living room. When she returned, his things were missing from her hand, and she said, “You’ll get your music after dinner, Jakey. Now, finish eating.”
A fire broke out at my feet. The anger-induced flames licked at my heels, legs, and arms. They swept over me, until I was engulfed in a red-orange heat. So hot, so unbearable, and I could hear the bomb in my stomach ticking away, counting down the seconds until I imploded. My fists clenched on the table, pumping and releasing, as I aimed my stony glare at the half-eaten food on my plate. I knew I should let it go. I knew there was nothing to gain from fighting with her. I knew I should just resume my dinner and carry on with the night, but there was nothing left of my appetite and all I felt was mad.
When it finally became too much, I lifted my head, undoubtedly with a face as red as the hot sauce puddled on my plate. I opened my mouth to breathe fire on my mother, and give her a piece of my mind, when I felt a cool, soft hand lay against my wrist. My gaze dropped to those fingers, as smooth as bone and as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. She must’ve sensed my rage, had felt it bubbling over, and now, with just this one touch, I was nudged toward tranquility.