Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

an appraising look, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I had no idea that the scent of hand sanitizer could be such a turn-on.” She opened the door and peeked out. “Okay, coast is clear.” She shoved him out. “Go on. Go! I’ll wait a minute and then come back to the table.”

“Later?” Wyatt asked, kissing her neck. “We need to talk.” But somehow, later never arrived that night.

57

“Dad?” Bo walked into the kitchen, where Wyatt was shaping hamburger patties. Sweetie followed close on the child’s heels, sniffing the air expectantly.

“I know it’s late and you’re hungry, but dinner’s almost ready,” Wyatt assured, seasoning the burgers with salt and pepper, stopping to toss a bit of meat to the dog.

“I’m okay.” Bo plopped down at his place at the kitchen table. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing.” Wyatt put the griddle pan on the burner and turned on the heat. “You want cheese or no on your burger?”

“Cheese,” Bo said. “The yellow kind, not the white.”

“Got it. What did you want to ask me?”

Bo kicked the table leg. “Do you still hate Mom?”

“Hate her?” Wyatt asked cautiously. “I don’t hate your mom, Bo. Is that what you think?”

“Sometimes,” the boy said. He helped himself to a handful of potato chips from the bowl on the table and tossed one to Sweetie, who caught it midair. “Mom thinks you hate her. She’s pretty sad. Because now she’s not gonna marry you know who. And Aunt Kendra is a big bee-yotch.” He shoved all the chips in his mouth and chewed furiously.

“You probably shouldn’t call your aunt that word, pal,” Wyatt said. “It’s kind of a bad, grown-up word. So … you talked to your mom today?”

“Do we have any onion dip?” Bo asked hopefully.

“Sorry, no. But we’ve got salad. Did your mom call you today?”

“Yeah,” Bo said. “She says we’re not gonna live with you know who anymore. Do you think we can get our old house back instead? I kind of miss my room there.”

Wyatt sighed. “That’s complicated, pal. I wish we could get the old house back, but right now we can’t. So I guess you’re stuck sharing a room with me. Is that so bad? I mean, I don’t snore too loud, do I?”

“Not as loud as Granddad,” Bo said, giggling. A moment later, he was serious again. “What about Mom? Where’s she going to live?”

Wyatt got up and turned the burner on again. He waited until the eye glowed red, then added the hamburger patties to the grill pan.

Obviously, Callie had unburdened herself to their son at some point during the day. What the hell was she thinking, worrying a six-year-old with this stuff? Did she seriously think she could use Bo to guilt-trip him into taking her back?

“For now, your mom’s going to stay with Aunt Kendra,” Wyatt said finally. “And then she’s going to find a new place to live. And you’ll have a new room. Okay? Is that cool with you?”

“I guess,” Bo said. He kicked the table leg rhythmically. “But it would be cooler if Mom and me could just live with you. Like we did before.” He took another handful of potato chips and shoved them into his mouth and chewed furiously.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Wyatt thought. Callie was really pulling out all the stops. He should have seen this coming.

Wyatt heard the meat sizzling on the cast-iron grill pan. Smoke rose from the stove. He jumped up and flipped the burgers, his mind working furiously to find a way to be honest with the child. Finally, he sat down and reached across the table and took his son’s hand in his.

“Look at me, Bo,” he said calmly. “Mom and I both love you. More than anything. And that will never change. But she and I, we’re probably not ever going to live together again. Not because I hate her, but because we don’t love each other the way married people should love each other. I’m sad about that, and I know you’re sad about it, too. But that’s just the way it has to be. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bo said. “Can Sweetie have a hamburger, too?”

“Afraid not,” Wyatt said. “Now, go wash your hands and tell Granddad dinner is ready.”

*   *   *

Their Friday-night routine seldom varied. Nelson took himself off to bed around nine, and then Wyatt and Bo either watched a movie or played video games, until one or both of them fell asleep. Right now, Bo was sprawled on the floor, scraping the last bit of ice cream from the carton as he watched The Bad News Bears—the old Walter Matthau version—for maybe the tenth time since the start of summer. Sweetie was curled up on the floor beside him, her snout resting in his lap.

It had started drizzling shortly after dinner. Now the rain fell steadily, beating a noisy tattoo on the trailer’s metal roof and siding.

Wyatt had texted Grace earlier in the afternoon, proposing that they meet somewhere, but discarded that idea after realizing how anxious Bo was about his parents’ marital status.

After dinner, he’d managed a furtive phone call while Bo and Nelson did the dishes. “Hey,” he’d said, his voice low. “I don’t think I can get away tonight after all. Bo is having some issues, and I think I’d better stick close to home.”

“Everything okay?” Grace asked. “Your dad’s not sick again, is he?”

“Nothing like that,” Wyatt said. He knew he should tell Grace what was going on with Callie, but something held him back. All he knew was that he was tired of the tug-of-war. Callie was the past. And Grace was his future. He and Bo deserved a happy future, didn’t they?

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Wyatt promised. He glanced back toward the kitchen to make sure he couldn’t be overheard. “I’ve got some stuff to tell you. Maybe we could have another sunset viewing at that condo?”

Grace laughed throatily. “I think that could probably be arranged.”

*   *   *

He must have dozed off sometime between the end of