Page 67 of Not How I Saw That Going

“I told Ward I would,” I say, grabbing the awful cereal and the sugar bowl.

“You only agreed to be his fake girlfriend for a night, not to be his mother’s punching bag.”

Like it’s anything new.

“I’m not going to let her treat me like crap,” I say, then take a bite. Gah, this stuff is awful. More sugar.

“Hmm…” Maddie’s thinking. I hate when she does that. “Is it possible you have more than fake feelings for Ward?”

Possible, yes. Probable? Also yes. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t pretend to go out with a guy if his mother was that horrible, unless I liked him.”

She might have a point, but I’m not ready to admit it. “Are you going to help me or not? I also need some help finishing up the last of the orders if you’ve got some time.” I received almost a hundred orders thanks to that video, which is great, but after I fill these orders I will be completely out of stock and I can’t get more supplies in for two more weeks.

Maddie sighs loudly into the phone. “Yes, I’ll be there. Also, fair warning, there might be a few packages coming your way.”

I freeze momentarily. “Um, why?”

“Don’t question it, just accept them,” Maddie says hurriedly.

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all. Did you get me a waxing kit again?”

She scoffs. “Some of us learn from past mistakes.”

“Mom! I went poop, and the toilet isn’t flushing!” Crew shouts.

Not again.“Don’t touch it!”

“Have fun with that,” Maddie laughs and hangs up.

I drop my phone on the table. Being a single parent means I’m the favorite parent, but it also means I have to clean every mess, fix every problem, cure all illnesses. I’ll do it all for my child, but sometimes it would be nice to have someone to share that burden with. Someone who, just off the top of my head, is super attractive and muscly with a nice tattoo running down the right side of his chest.

I flatten the front of my navy-blue dress, my clammy hands leaving streaks against the almost leathery feeling material.

Dang it, Maddie. She insisted I wear one of her favorite dresses for dinner with Ward’s family, but conveniently forgot that normal people tend to sweat when nervous.

“Crew, get your shoes on,” I yell, trying to get my nicest pair of earrings through the almost entirely closed holes in my ears.

“I did!” he yells back.

“Did you put socks on?” One earring jabs through and I bite back a scream.

“Yes!”

I don’t trust him. I’ve smelled those stinky feet one too many times to take him at his word.

“Come here, let me see.” I start working on the other ear.

“Can I wear my Spider-Man mask?” he responds instead.

“No!” I squeal, running out of the bathroom to make sure he hasn’t shed his nice clothes already and resorted to being Spider-Man again. It cost me three trips into my precious chocolate stash to bribe him into a stain-free shirt and khaki shorts in the first place.

“Ughh.” He falls against the couch, like I imagine he will do when he’s a teenager and I’ve just ruined his life.

There’s a knock at the door, and I run to open it.

The sight of Ward hits me like a heat wave. His hair is combed and styled today. He must not bother on the days he has to work, but I don’t mind the messy look on him either. The top button of his shirt is undone, displaying the most delicious triangle of tanned skin. His shirt clings to his chest a lot like I did that night in the fire station.