It was nothing new. She’d been living with his disapproval and disappointment for the past three years. Still, it hurt.
At least he’s alive. You did that much.
Oscar gave an experimental cry of distress and Kelsey flipped him onto her shoulder as she walked, congratulating herself when the motion felt less like rotating a crying football and more like gently shifting the weight of a baby. She’d called Marie at five, hoping to be distracted from her increasingly dark thoughts, and Marie had said, in no uncertain terms, that her father was a jerk and Ross an ass, and she needed to come over right away and bring a pint of ice cream because Oscar had an ear infection and had been crying most of the day and the only remedy for jerks, asses, and crying babies was clearly Rocky Road.
Kelsey had complied. How could she not?
Marie emerged from the bathroom, still zipping her pants. “Looking good,” she said, with an approving nod. “Can you keep him for a little longer? I want to gorge myself for a few minutes before I get back in the saddle.”
Kelsey winced. “Tell me you washed your hands.”
“Of course I washed my hands.” Marie waggled her offending digits in front of Oscar face. “What do you take me for, some kind of amateur?”
“You didn’t close the door or dress yourself before leaving the bathroom,” Kelsey said drily. “Forgive me for questioning your hygiene.”
Marie swaggered over to the kitchen, the curve of her hips pronounced in a pair of snug capri jeans. She wore a flowered button-down shirt with a belt at the waist that emphasized her hourglass figure. Her hair provided evidence of the quality of the day, the normally orderly red ringlets divided between frizz and knots. “You were ready to see the truth. You’ve crossed over to the other side.” She grabbed a spoon from a drawer and lifted the lid of the ice cream container. Utensil poised above the chocolaty interior, she sighed happily.
“What side exactly?” Kelsey asked.
“You know, the side separating the girls from the women.” Marie dug out a heaping spoonful and paused to swallow it. “The side separating those who close the door, and those who know that life moves too fast for such formalities.”
“The side that walks around half-dressed and says damn the consequence?”
“Exactly. The side that does not wait around for assholes who said they would call, but don’t.”
Kelsey swung Oscar around so the baby faced Marie, and she didn’t have to look into her friend’s sympathetic eyes. “I’m not waiting. You know that.”
“I know that.” Marie paused, then said softly, “I’m sorry. You really liked him, didn’t you?”
Kelsey grimaced. “Saying I liked Ross Bencher would be like saying I liked heroin. And you and I both know I’m way too smart for that.”
Around a mouthful of ice cream, Marie said, “You are the only woman I know who would compare a divorced father of three to heroin.”
“Everyone has their own version of heroin,” Kelsey said. “Mine just happens to be responsible, dedicated to his family, and dead set on dating women who resemble Betty Crocker.”
“See, this is clearly one of those ‘to each her own’ sort of moments,” Marie said. “Because my version of heroin runs toward gentlemen with gobs of money and an extravagant lifestyle.”
Oscar squirmed on her shoulder and grabbed a handful of hair. “Ow.” Kelsey retrieved the strands from his tight grasp. She walked over to Marie and lowered the baby so he was even with her friend’s face. “Come on, give it up. You know you could never survive a life without babies.”
Marie waggled a full spoon in Kelsey’s direction. “After today, don’t be so sure.”
“What was so bad about the day?” Kelsey asked, restoring Oscar to the curve of her shoulder. The baby rewarded her with a bright-eyed look and a fresh grab at a long brown lock of hair. “He doesn’t seem particularly cranky right now.”
“That’s because you’re holding him. He’s been crying all day. I think he’s sick of me.”
Kelsey felt an inordinate surge of pride. “Really?”
“Really.” Marie gazed down at the melting chocolate in front of her. “And my mom called.”
“Oh.” Kelsey adjusted Oscar so she could lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Is she okay?”
“Just the usual drama. Frank’s a deadbeat, Jackie left her husband—again—Cora’s pregnant, and oh, would I mind sending her fifty bucks to help her get through until payday?”
When they met in college, Kelsey had been convinced her relationship with her father was as dysfunctional as it got. But that was until she met Marie.