Page 38 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

I got Jake out of his car seat when we arrived home at the end of the day.

Once inside, I plopped him on the counter and asked, “What should we have for dinner?” like he’d respond, although I knew better.

I’d love to say I offered him a host of selections that were all healthy and nutritious, but being single, exhausted, and struggling to make ends meet made it hard to be the mother I wanted to be.

“How about fish sticks and tater tots?”

He clapped his hands and enthused, “Shticks!” which I took as a yes and set him on the ground to let him play on my tablet so I could get dinner started.

At least the tots were sweet potatoes, and I could add some red and yellow bell peppers to his plate to add some color. I gave myself credit for introducing him to vegetables while he was teething, so he was already accustomed to having them with every meal.

“Yes, I’m just a regular June Cleaver,” I mused out loud as I shut the oven door after placing the pan of tater tots and fish sticks inside.

Leaning my butt against the warm appliance, I looked at my son in the adjoining family room playing on my iPad and couldn’t help but feel like I was failing at this mom thing.

I rarely made homemade meals for my kid, and I wasn’t home during the day to make sure he was doing all the enrichment activities his little developing brain needed.

I let him have too much screen time. Sometimes he got wiped down with a washcloth at night instead of getting a full bath.

I wasn’t consistent enough with potty training and at the rate we were going, Jake was going to be wearing training pants to middle school.

In Parkview.

That felt like my biggest failure. We were going to have to move. He wasn’t going to attend Lancastle schools, and I knew I’d have to be extra vigilant that he didn’t have any educational gaps.

I watched him study the game he was playing, and he let out a little cheer as his face lit up with a smile while he raised his arms in victory.

My son was happy and healthy and knew he was loved, so at least I had that going for me.

The doorbell rang, and Jake’s eyes got big before he jumped off the couch and darted toward the door.

“Not so fast, mister!” I exclaimed as I scooped him up. “Kids don’t answer the door.”

Parking him on my hip, I swung the door open and immediately moved the wooden barrier, so Jake was obstructed from Gabe Mitchell, who was standing on my welcome mat, looking sexy as fuck in his work boots and messy hair.

Somehow him looking that damn good only made me madder.

Trying to keep the anger out of my voice, I cautiously said, “Hi?”

He offered a contrite smile and replied, “Hey. I was hoping I could talk to you. ”

When I didn’t move to invite him in, he clarified, “About your cabinets. And the lien you asked Rick about…”

I eyed him up and down and noticed he had a Caruso’s bag in one hand and a toy toolbox in the other.

He saw where my gaze landed, and he lifted the items higher.

“I brought you cheesecake, and I brought your boy a carpenter set.”

My eyes narrowed, and I blurted out, “Why?”

“Well, I remember how much you liked Caruso’s cheesecake, and I know how much my kids loved their toolsets, so I thought Jake might enjoy one, too. I kept the receipt, so you can take it back if he already has one.”

I hadn’t heard from him in over a month, and now he shows up at my house with gifts like nothing happened?

“No, I mean, why did you bring us anything at all? Why are you here?”

He glanced at the ground, then looked me in the eye.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression the other day and was hoping these would help you accept my apology.”

I hadn’t expected that.

“Your apology?”

“That day I brought your cabinets… the way I left. I owe you an explanation, along with the apology.”

I didn’t want him to think that he had any power over me, like I hadn’t spent the last month wavering between hurt and confused to angry and indignant, so I shrugged like I didn’t care.

“You don’t owe me anything. We agreed our time together was only for the weekend, and the weekend was over. ”

“I still shouldn’t have left like that. I’m sorry.”

I wanted to tell him to suck it, but I realized that would be like admitting I’d been affected and holding a grudge.

“Apology accepted.”

“I also wanted to talk about a proposition I have for you, regarding your cabinets.”

My heartrate sped up as thoughts of the dirty fantasy I’d had about him wanting sex as payment raced through my mind.

I swallowed hard before squeaking out, “What kind of proposition?”

Gabe gestured behind me.

“Can I come in?”

****

Gabe

Gretchen let me in her front door. That was a start.

I smiled at the small towheaded boy staring at me with big blue eyes while his mom held him, then I glanced cautiously at her.

“Is it okay if I give this to him?”

She nodded once, then set him on his feet, and I immediately knelt to offer him the toolbox.

“Here, buddy. This is for you.”

He clung to Gretchen’s leg with one hand while staring at the carpenter set full of oversized, colorful plastic tools.

I set the bag with the cheesecake on the ground so I could take the toy hammer out and demonstrate how it worked on a make-believe nail on the floor .

He let go of his mom’s leg to take it when I extended it to him. I then pulled out two more tools from the set to show him.

The little man had obviously been around someone who used tools, because he immediately knew what the screwdriver was for and practiced on the closest piece of furniture—exactly how Bodhi used to.

My heart felt like it had a stranglehold on it, but I took a deep breath and remembered what Dr. Frank had recommended: focus on the child in front of me.

Gretchen beamed down at her son. “Just like daideó’s, huh, baby? We’ll have to take those over next time we visit him and mamó so you can help him.”

Wearing a big grin, the little boy replied, “Help DoDo!” and continued his attempt to unscrew the nailhead trim on her brown faux-leather couch, chewing his tongue as he concentrated on the task.

“What do you say to Mr. Mitchell?”

“Tank you,” and then I think he attempted to say, “Mr. Mitchell,” but it came out sounding like mashed up consonants that started with an M and ended with an L.

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

A beeping sound came from the kitchen that I recognized as the oven timer, and I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the last time I was here when it went off, along with the smoke detector.

Jake’s mouth formed an “O” when he looked at her with wide eyes. She played along and made a dramatic gasp when she exclaimed, “Dinner’s ready!”

The tools were quickly abandoned, except the screwdriver, which he took with him as he scrambled to the kitchen .

I put the rest of the tools back in the box, and Gretchen snatched up the bag with the cheesecake before following her son.

I took her accepting my peace offering as a good sign and trailed behind them.