Made To Love by S.M. West

Author:S.M. West [West, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SMW Books
Published: 2017-05-04T18:30:00+00:00

Olivia

“You’re a jackhole.”

“Drew,” I reprimand, channeling my mother, the most proper person I know. She’d wash his mouth out with soap if she heard her grandson utter such trash. Paige snickers as she pours cereal into a bowl.

“Mom, seriously?” Drew challenges. “It’s just a game.” He excitedly focuses on the TV screen where lifelike soldiers in full battle gear shoot the shit out of each other—at least that’s what it looks like to me. He’s playing a video game and I know better than to interrupt, but he gets so immersed in it and forgets where he is.

“Exactly, that’s my point,” I answer, not knowing if I have a point, but feeling like I should. I’m straddling a line between being his mother—and thus having the right to question his vocabulary or behavior—and recognizing him as the adult he is now. Drew shakes his head and ignores me. Choosing to not take him on any further, I continue packing up my things.

“So, what time is your flight tomorrow?” Paige asks.

“Seven thirty.” Rummaging through my bag, I double-check that I have everything. “Your dad’s picking you up tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.” She shovels a spoonful of Froot Loops (her dinner) into her mouth. Mouth full, crunching around her words, she adds, “We’re leaving at noon.”

“Paige,” I chide, rolling my eyes at her disgusting eating habits. “Drew, you sure you don’t want to go?”

“Really? We’ve been over this—I’ve got work. Besides, I’ll see Nans and Gramps when they visit me in September.”

“Fine.” I’m resigned to the fact that whatever is going on between Pete and Drew hasn’t been settled.

Pete’s parents are snowbirds who spend winters in Florida, and we used to vacation with them. We’d fly down just before it was time for them to come home, spend a week or so, then drive their car back. This year, Pete asked me to come, his millionth attempt at reconciling.

He’s been incessant with texts inviting me to dinner, drinks, and movies. At first, I responded, declining each time. Now, I ignore him. He needs to move on. As much as I believe he thinks he wants to repair our relationship—and perhaps some part of him truly does—I also believe he’s mostly afraid of moving on. I get it. What we had was far from perfect and at times, downright painful, but it was comfortable and safe.

So, he’s going to Florida with the kids—well, kid, since Drew backed out around the same time he came to live with me. Pete’s tight-lipped about what’s going on; like his son, he refuses to discuss it with me.

I’m headed to Montreal. I miss Sam. It’s been almost two weeks since I last saw him at the food competition, and it wasn’t all I hoped for. As promised, he came back the night before his judging gig. No call or visit. Instead, I got a text saying the tickets were at the front desk and that he’d see us the next day.

I saw him all right—mostly from afar. Sam was very generous, giving us six tickets.

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