Page 60 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)
Gabe
The chaos the next morning was a far cry from the way I usually started my day—enjoying a quiet cup of coffee in my breakfast nook overlooking the backyard while I scrolled my phone and caught up on scores from the night before.
In addition to making sure Britt was awake on time for school, something I wasn’t accustomed to since she stayed with her mom most school nights, I had to contend with Gretchen rushing around trying to get Jake fed and ready for daycare.
I asked her more than once what I could do to help, but each time she scurried past me, she repeated her mantra, “I got it.”
Finally, I grabbed her by the arm to slow her down for five seconds.
“Let me help you. Do you need your lunch packed? Jake’s diaper bag packed? His diaper changed?”
She eyed me suspiciously, like she expected me to burst out laughing and say, “Just kidding!” Finally, she replied, “If you could make me a sandwich for lunch and double check there are at least ten pull-up diapers in Jake’s diaper bag, I’d appreciate it.”
I released her arm and stepped back.
“On it.”
She offered me a grateful smile.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. ”
She headed toward the stairs, and I called after her, “PB and J? Turkey and cheese? Ham and cheese?”
She turned around and declared, “Turkey, cheese, and mayo sounds great.”
I replied with a wink. “You got it.”
A few minutes later, Brittany walked into the kitchen and saw me making Gretchen’s sandwich.
She sat down at the kitchen island and poured herself a bowl of cereal.
“Can you make me something, too?”
I paused my careful distribution of mayonnaise so that the entire slice of bread was covered and looked up at her.
“You don’t eat cafeteria lunch?”
“Ew, no.”
“What do you want?”
She was careful when she poured the milk, so to get just the right amount of milk to cereal ratio. I’d taught her that.
“You know what I like. Surprise me. And Mom always leaves me a little note, too.”
I pulled a slice of mozzarella from the deli bag and shot her a look.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
Sporting the trademark Mitchell grin when she took a big spoonful, she mumbled, “I know,” around a mouth full of food.
I finished packing Gretchen’s lunch under Britt’s watchful eye. I forewent adding a heart when I wrote her name on the brown paper bag, then set it on the counter to go in search of the diaper bag .
After ensuring there were a minimum of ten diapers that I assumed her daycare required, I set the bag next to her lunch, along with her satchel and file folder I’d retrieved from the basement, where she’d left them the night before.
My daughter noticed it all as she rinsed her cereal bowl in the sink and commented, “You really like her.”
Remembering our conversation in the car yesterday, I hesitated before answering.
“Well, yeah. She’s a nice lady.”
“I like her, too. She and Jake seemed to fit in well here.”
They do, don’t they?
I didn’t want to give her false hope, so I warned, “Let it go, Britt.”
“I’m just saying, we’ve got plenty of room. I bet it would be easy to turn the guest room into a little ki—”
“ I said, drop it .”
I rarely had to raise my voice with my kids, and I’d done it twice in less than twenty-four hours. But just like yesterday, my resilient kid was undeterred.
“Okay…” But of course, she didn’t drop it. “I’ve never seen you smile at a woman like you do at her.”
“Well, yeah. We’ve already established I think she’s nice.”
“Dad,” she let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t like anyone who isn’t family. So, that means you think of her as family.”
I didn’t have a response to that, so I grumbled, “Go get ready for school.”
Damn kids.
They think they’re so smart.
Was she right, though?
****
Gretchen
For the first time since I returned to work after maternity leave, I arrived at school early .
It had been nice having Gabe’s help this morning, and I couldn’t help but smile when I put the sack lunch he’d made me into my mini fridge. My normally harried morning had almost felt easy, and I appreciated how he’d been willing to help me.
It was a far cry from how my days had started when Troy and I had been together.
Believe it or not, my mornings had actually gotten easier once he moved out. I didn’t have to worry about keeping Jake quiet—not an easy feat with a toddler, for fear of waking my ex. I’d tiptoe around and shush my little boy if he made the slightest noise; I was in a constant state of anxiety.
But, I’d reasoned, it was the least I could do with how much Troy worked all the time. I hadn’t been able to fathom working such long hours.
God, I’d been so na?ve.
The morning with Gabe gave me a glimpse of what being with a real partner would look like, and I realized I wanted that for me, Jake, and my future children.
A hint of sadness overcame me to know it wouldn’t be with Gabe .
As he’d carried Jake to my car he’d already started so it was warm when we got in, I remembered thinking, so this is what simpatico feels like.
I could get used to it.
My morning classes breezed by, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the way my day had started out had anything to do with it.
So, at lunchtime, when I looked at my phone and saw the message from Gabe, I wasn’t too upset.
Gabe: Don’t be mad at me, but Henry can’t get to your place until Thursday.
I think he might have been worried when I didn’t respond right away, because he sent a follow up text an hour later.
Gabe: I tried calling around. No one is available until the end of the week unless I’m willing to pay their emergency rate. Which I’ll do if it’s that important that you get back to your place. I just thought things went well last night and this morning, so you might be okay waiting.
Gabe: If that’s not okay, I’ll understand.
Me: No, I don’t want you to have to pay an emergency fee. I just don’t want to overstay our welcome. I know having a two-year-old underfoot can be a lot.
Especially since your two-year-old died.
He must have read between the lines because he promptly replied .
Gabe: Jake is absolutely not a problem. I promise. I enjoy having him around.
Me: Okay, I’ll swing by my house after I pick up Jake from daycare and get a few days’ worth of clothes.
Gabe: Don’t forget the baby monitor. You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.
That bossy, sexy bastard.
The idea made my toes curl. I should find his cockiness infuriating, instead, I thought it was hot.
Still, I responded,
Me: We’ll see.
But when I pulled the note from my lunch—which consisted of grapes, pudding, and chips, in addition to my requested sandwich—that read, “You’re beautiful,” there was no doubt where I’d be sleeping tonight.
****
Gabe
I might have fibbed a little.
I’d asked Henry what his schedule looked like on Thursday and made the appointment then.
But since I never actually asked if he could make it today, I figured I had plausible deniability.
Sort of.
And no, I hadn’t tried anyone else.
I would have called Henry back if she’d been mad or insisted on going to her parents.
But she didn’t, and I thought that was a good sign.