KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(100)
“Right? Why do you think I dropped the pan?” Mary throws me a raised eyebrow as she falls in a heap a few feet beyond the ruined meal. “Just put it on today’s tab,” she says. “I swear. I was late getting Hardy from kinder because I totally spaced on the half-day the school had today. Bailey threw a fit in Whole Foods, and Justice hasn’t had a proper nap all week. I swear that girl lives in a car seat.”
“She’s not in one now.”
We both cast a look over to Justice, who is chewing on a teething biscuit, brown gummy food covering her face, her belly, and the diaper she wears in lieu of clothing. She’s in a swing in perpetual motion. I’ve babysat enough to know that the moment it stops, her screaming begins.
“Maybe it’s time you hired some help.” I manage to mop up the food and begin throwing the pie into the trash.
“Connor won’t let me. I have a five-thousand-square-foot home, three cars in the garage, a diamond ring on my finger worth a small island—yet he says a woman should be able to manage her own home.”
“Well, he grew up in different world. You have play dates to schedule, school uniforms to get to the dry cleaners, and mommy yoga to attend.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t helping.” Mary lets out a defeated sigh, propping herself up on the bar stool at the granite island.
I spray disinfectant on the floor and do a final clean. At least the dinner disaster is distracting her from noticing my non-virginal status.
“I’m not being sarcastic,” I say, defending my stance. “Connor and his five brothers were delinquents and his mom barely wrangled those kids through the Boston Public School. It’s apples and oranges. Can you imagine Connor’s mother dealing with life here, in Vegas, married to man like Connor? He has a reputation, and so do you.”
“Reputation or not, I’m over my head. Something’s gotta give. And this is the fourth night this week Connor has had a dinner meeting.” She walks to the freezer and pulls out a box of chicken nuggets and a bag of peas. “It’s times like this, when I’ve ruined dinner and I forgot to take a shower and I’m flying solo—again—that I wish Mom were still alive. She knew how to keep everything together. But me? I’m just one hot mess.”
Hardy and Bailey come into the kitchen, screaming about a tablet not working. Bailey’s face is streaked with tears and Hardy has crossed arms, all huffy and annoyed.
It takes one second to assess the situation and come to a decision.
“Mary, sometimes all anyone can do is one day at a time. And you,” I say, pointing at her, “are off duty for tonight. Get some Chardonnay, run a bath, and turn off your phone. Got it?” Rooting through the fridge, I find a chilled bottle and hand it to her. “Look, it’s a screw top—easy access.”
She doesn’t resist, doesn’t say if or but, doesn’t try to coax the kids to stop fighting. She just gives me a grateful look, grabs a wine glass, and leaves. She may be over her head, but she isn’t stupid.
Fifteen minutes later, Hardy and Bailey are sitting at the table eating their microwaved dinner. I have Justice in my arms, offering her a bottle while simultaneously squirting ketchup on plastic plates.
I may have a dad who’s arranging my marriage, but I also have a family I would do anything for.
Later, when the kids are happily watching Phineas and Ferb, and Justice is dozing in her swing, I take a break from unloading the dishwasher and check my phone.
Frick. Totally forgot about my plans with Lucy. She texted an hour ago.
Lucy: Where are you lady? What are we doing tonight?
I look at the clock. It’s only seven, and technically I could still pull off a night out with her. But, looking around my sister’s house, I see another load of dishes, a pile of unfolded clothes, and a sticky floor. I know what I should do.
I may hate the idea of marrying Grotto, but family is family. Not doing what my father has asked of me would excommunicate me from the family ... and my sister needs me. And I need her.
She’s my family, and family is more important than going out with friends—and certainly more important than marrying the love of my life.
Me: Sorry Lucy. I suck. But I’m on Auntie duty. Don’t hate me. Let’s do coffee this week. Xo
I slide my phone off, and roll up my sleeves.
Maybe when I’m done here I’ll treat myself to a quick late-hour workout. It will help me clear my head.
God knows, today I need it. Grotto. McQueen. Mary. I need to get my priorities in check.
The only thing I have that’s just mine is MMA fighting.
I’ve given up the idea of marrying for love, and now I’ve also given up my virginity. But the one thing I want to keep, for as long as I can, is my MMA gloves.