“Where did you get this?”
“There’s more,” he says as he takes the phone away and swipes through a series of photos. My blood boils. I’m angry at Elena for being so public with this new romance, especially after pretending we were one big happy family last week.
“Reggie, where did you find these pictures?”
“Owen sent them to me. He called my mom a whore.”
I groan angrily. I don’t know who Owen’s parents are, but I’m going to find out. I delete all the photos and then go to the deleted folder and remove them again. I hand Reggie his phone back and then use my finger to prop his chin up so he can look me in the eyes.
“Your mom is not a whore. I don’t ever want to hear you say that word again. Not about your mother or any other woman. Your mom and I are getting a divorce. This means she’s allowed to date other men, and I’m allowed to date other women. This does not mean we love you or Roxy any less. The two of you are our worlds. We’d do anything for you.”
“But Mommy loves someone else.”
I nod. “I know, bud. And I know that hurts you. It hurts me too. We can be sad about it, and we can always talk about what’s going on, and you can also talk to your mom. Tell her how you feel when you see those things.”
“Okay.”
I pull my son into my arms and rest my chin on top of his head. I imagine Elena lying next to us, creating a Reggie sandwich, which we’ve done so often. Except, when I close my eyes, it’s not Elena’s face I see . . .
. . . it’s Autumn’s.
Eleven
Autumn
I’m thankful for the mild fall weather. When I lived in North Dakota, venturing outside at a time like this never boded well for my running habits. I never enjoyed jogging until I started my job. At first, I couldn’t run for five minutes without having to stop. Five turned into ten, and that ten finally turned into a mile. Now, I’m up to at least five miles before I need a break or lose total interest in what I’m doing. One of the perks of being in Portland, in the downtown area, is the waterfront. There is a nicely paved pathway that affords all sorts of recreational activity. Every morning, I encounter bicyclists, rollerbladers, and a slew of other joggers. One of the perks is looking out over the water to see the boats. From what I hear, fleet week happens in May and June, and it’s a sight to behold. Not gonna lie, I’m looking forward to summer.
After last night though, I’m considering taking up boxing. Peyton called in between my broadcasts and told me that Julius Cunningham, the jerk I won in the auction and who has made me feel completely unwelcome, asked about me. Color me stumped. When Peyton said this, my mouth dropped open, and at first, I thought, “Wow, this guy is coming around.” Nope, nada. He despises me, and for what—I have no idea. Peyton thinks it’s because he likes me, but there’s no way. We aren’t in the first grade anymore. There is no “be mean to the new girl because you have a crush on her” game of tag happening on the playground.
We’re adults, but Julius doesn’t act like one. He’s a giant man child with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon, all because he thinks I’m using Peyton. I find him sad, honestly. Peyton says he’s going through a few things with his wife but won’t elaborate, which I’m okay with. The last thing I want is to know more about him. And to be honest, I don’t want to spend the day with him. I have a feeling it’s going to be a nightmare of a time, and I’ll likely end up crying through most of it. Maybe I should’ve taken him up on his offer and accepted the check he wanted to give me. Nope, I paid for him, and I plan to use him to my fullest pleasure. He’s going to rue the day he decided to talk shit about me.
When I come around the bend, my apartment complex is within sight. Usually, I go home but the morning is so lovely I decide to spend some time at the park. There was a time in my life when I thought I wanted to be a nanny. I love children and want my own someday, but loved the thought of taking care of babies. I was also sixteen at the time and thought I’d be an au pair in France or find a wealthy family in California that would take me on their vacations to Bali with them. I head toward the playground and sit down on the first empty bench I can find. I’m surrounded by strollers, moms, dads, and nannies talking to each other or chasing a toddler around. The sight brings a smile to my face. I hate that my clock is ticking and I have no one.