Page 18 of Bad Ball Hitter
“It’s ice cream. It’s all good.” I slide the key into the lock and turn the handle. I lean down and kiss his forehead. It’s not his fault his best friend has more advantages than him. “I promise we’ll go get custard on Saturday.”
“Fine, but I want a large waffle cone this time.” He stomps into the apartment ahead of me.
“Yeah?”
“Great, you’re home!” Miranda clasps her hands together, drawing our attention. She’s perched on the couch, her long legs crossed and a wide grin on her perfectly made-up face. She turns that enthusiasm onto Jake. “Hey, Jakey.”
The back of my neck tingles. Something is up. Miranda is never excited when I return from work. Jake barely gets a nod most days, let alone a personalized greeting. His face scrunches in confusion as he turns to face me. I give him a silent look. “I don’t know, buddy.”
“What’s going on?” I set my bag down and stepped toward the kitchen. Jake shrugged and took off to the bedroom.
“I need to borrow Jake.”
“W-w-what?” I sputter, whipping my gaze to hers.
She raises her hands in defense. “Hear me out before going into boring Lila mode.”
“Boring Lila mode?” I say this as a question, but I can hardly argue. My life basically comprises dropping Jake off at either school or daycare, going to work, and coming home. Regardless of my mundane life, she isn’t borrowing my son.
“Oh, you know what I mean.” She waves her hand at me as if I’m the one being annoying. “I need Jake.”
“Need him for what?”
She tosses her dark hair to the side. “Okay, so I noticed how good Drake was with Jake. It surprised me because I didn’t think he’d be into the whole kid thing.”
The whole kid thing.
I don’t ask why she would think that. She hardly knows Drake, not like I do. However, the topic of having kids never came up. Christ, we were just in high school, and he was as wild as they came, but he was good around the children we encountered.
A smile tugs at my lips. There was this one time we were at the store when a little boy, around three years old, got separated from his mom. Drake calmed him down and had him laughing when the frantic mother came rushing down the aisle.
Drake was always good with kids. The thought of him having them with someone other than me hurt. But why? I shouldn’t care. He didn’t care about me. Not really. He didn’t even show up at my father’s funeral. That’s what I need to remember the most.
I pull on the refrigerator door too hard, and the bottles in the side door rattle, threatening to spill over.
She continues, “So that got me thinking. I want him to see how good I am with children.”
I peer over my shoulder at her, dismayed. “But you’re not good with kids. You don’t even want them.”
“That’s not true.”
“You more or less said that when I moved in. I believe the direct quote was, ‘As long as the varmint clings to you and stays out of my way, we’ll be good.’”
She huffs. “That doesn’t mean I never want kids.” The side of her lip tips upward, revealing the ulterior motive I know too well. “I just need to be convincing enough to make this last.”
“You’re not using my son as part of your scheme.” God, playing any part in getting them together sickens me, but the thought of Jake being alone with her and my ex-boyfriend? That’s unfathomable.
“We don’t have time to argue. Drake will be here in about thirty minutes to take Jake to the park.”
My stomach twists into knots at the thought of seeing Drake again. I grab stuff to make sandwiches, no longer hungry. “Jake is not going anywhere without me.”
“Oh, come on, Lila.” She places her hands on her hips. “This is important.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Miranda flits to the bookcase and grabs a baseball from the shelf. She tosses it lightly in her hand, a playful glint in her eye.
“See? It’s fate,” she says, catching the ball before putting it back on the shelf. “It was meant to be.”