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I stop short and close my eyes. Because no way.No fucking way.
“It isn’t my day, is it?” I ask as I turn to face my husband.
His blond hair is slicked back in that Clark Kent way, andthe smile on his face is patient. Brown eyes regard me, slightly squinted, his head tilted.
“Nope,” is all Peter says as I glance around, zeroing in on the group of moms who stare at us. One of them will probably try to fuck him. It puts a weird heaviness in my stomach, even though this is all my fault.
I’m a fucking mess of odd thoughts and pent-up frustration. With myself, with societal norms, and with the fact that I’ve never been this person before.
“Sabrina…”
“Fuck,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, wanting the day to be over already. It’s then that I remember.
“Are you wearing a bra?” Peter asks, trying to keep his gaze on my face and failing.
And it isn’t something that would typically matter except I’m only wearing a white tank top and it’s thin as hell.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I grind out before realizing that a bunch of kids and their parents are within earshot.
“It’s okay. I don’t think anyone’s seen you,” he assures me as he takes my hand in his and leads me back to the car. “You head home. We’ll see you there.”
I want to cry.
As grounded as this man is, as much as he calms me, this may be one of the last times he comforts me. One of the last times he polices me and offers me a way out.
One of the last times I’ll feel like we’re on the same team.
I sniff, an errant tear tracking down my face before I can catch it.
“Hey, you’re okay,” he tells me as I get in the car and buckle my seatbelt. I place my hands on the steering wheel for a moment as he stands there, unsure of what comes next.
“I know. It’s not that, it’s just…” I trail off when I see the girls heading toward us.
“What is it?” he asks as he leans farther into the car, not having seen them for himself.
I shake my head as I watch Jilly’s eyes light up, seeing the both of us here. Penny’s face is slack, nonchalance oozing off her as her sister lets go of her hand to race the rest of the way to us.
“We’ll talk later.”
“Did you forget it’s dad’s day?” Jilly asks, pushing her dirty blonde hair from her face. I swear I sent her to school with her hair braided but the wild child rarely comes home in the same state as she was sent.
“Of course she did,” Penny answers, nudging her younger sister. “They’re getting a divorce.” She mutters the last part like an accusation and doesn’t bother looking at me, turning away from the car so all I see is her dark brown hair, still in its neat braid down her back.
I’m ruining my kids. I’m fucking them up.
I inhale a shaky breath, staring at Peter for some sort of guidance.
Help me fuck them up a little less.
“Ladies, let’s get some ice cream while mom orders dinner,” he suggests, already rallying them toward his car further up the line.
“She forgot a bra too,” I hear Penny say and I groan at the precocious nearly six-year-old.
Peter tells her something I can’t hear, and she cracks a rare smile.
I envy their relationship. Lately, he’s been her favorite. And while I’m happy she has that in him, I worry that in the end, she won’t want to be with me the way she thinks I don’t want to be with Peter.
In her eyes, he’s the best. And he is.
