Wrong Place, Right Time(83)

“Not all people suck. Apparently, the person at that daycare does, but most people who run daycares are nice and they understand that not every kid is born exactly like another. Differences make them unique and special, not deficient.”

“Thank you. I agree with you one hundred percent. And it’s not like I’m this neglectful parent, okay? I realize that my son has a lisp. It would be impossible to miss. But I don’t think putting pressure on him at this age is a good idea. Am I crazy for believing that?”

Dev squeezes my arms again. “No, of course not. I’m sure that you’ve listened to your pediatrician and you’re following whatever orders your doctor has given you. Besides, if there were something really wrong, your maternal instincts would kick in and you’d do whatever needs to be done. So you don’t need to worry about whatever that person said to you. You’re a good mom, and you’re doing the right thing, whatever it is.”

I have to smile at that. “You don’t even know what I’m doing, so how could you possibly say I’m doing the right thing?”

He shrugs and smiles a little, making his dimple cave in just a bit. “Because. I know what kind of person you are. You’re not going to do anything that’s going to hurt your kids, and you’re not lazy. I can tell by the way your kids act and by the way they treat people. They’re kind and gentle and fun. You don’t get a kid like that by being an asshole.”

I can’t stop grinning. “There are at least two people who I know for a fact would disagree with you, based on my behavior today.”

Dev pulls me back into another hug and squeezes me hard. “I promise I will let you know if you’re ever being an asshole in my presence.”

I pat him on the back. “Me too. Same goes.”

“You want me to order the pizzas?” he asks.

I shrug, taking a step back to break up our embrace. A sustained hug-fest in the kitchen is probably a little too heavy for a pizza party. I don’t want my kids to catch us, since I’m not even sure what this thing between us is yet. “Go for it. I think you have the number already.”

Dev pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up at me. “Sure do. I’m going to go get everybody’s order.” He turns around and leaves the kitchen for the family room without another word.

I open the refrigerator and pull out a bottle of wine for the grown-ups and a bottle of apple juice for the kids. As I take glasses out of the cabinet and line them up on the counter, I can’t stop myself from humming. Here I thought I was going to be crying in my wine and lying in bed wondering where I went wrong, but instead I’m surrounded by people I love and who love me back, looking forward to an impromptu pizza party. And tomorrow I’m going out to dinner with the hottest, most understanding man I have ever met.

Obviously I’ve done something right somewhere; I just hope I don’t screw it up. I definitely need to talk to my sister one-on-one, as soon as possible. Before I forget, I send her a text. Even though she’s in the other room, I need to keep this on the down-low. I don’t want Dev knowing I’m analyzing or planning anything that has to do with him.



Me: We need to talk, asap.



Ten seconds later, her reply beeps on my phone.



May: Now??

Me: No. Tomorrow morning. Coffee here. 8. Don’t b late.

May: Wouldn’t miss it for the world.





CHAPTER THIRTY

I throw the door open and welcome my sister in before she even has a chance to touch the handle. After a hug and a kiss, she hands me an envelope.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking it from her and turning it over. It’s plain, nothing written on it.

“It’s your gift certificate and your first paycheck.” She’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you sure about the gift certificate?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not a gift. You earned it. And now we have an excuse to go shopping together.”

I love shopping with my sister, and it’s been ages since we’ve done it. “Fine. I’ll take it.” Ushering her into the kitchen, I gesture toward the table. “Have a seat. I’m just getting these muffins out of the oven.”

May follows my orders, sitting down in her chair and wrapping her hands around the freshly poured mug of coffee in front of her. “It smells like heaven in here.”

I nudge the oven door closed with my elbow and set the hot muffin tray down on the counter. “I got up really early this morning and mixed these up before the kids were even awake.” I don’t mention to her that I couldn’t sleep at all last night because I was so worried about Sammy, or that I had to make last-minute plans to bring him to the emergency daycare, the one I hate because it always smells like dirty diapers but the one place that will take him with no notice when necessary. Finding him a new daycare is my top priority after I turn in my report to the Bourbon Street Boys team, but I don’t need to stress my sister out over things she can’t control.