Page 90 of DadBod

Lies.

“Uh-huh.” I nod and do my best to look serene.

“I just think…”

“Uh-huh.” Honestly, I’m not feeling super serene right now.

“We need to take it easy.”

“Take it easy.” I nod even though I have no idea what that even means.

“The kids aren’t ready.”

“Nope.” Shaking my head back and forth, I know he’s right. They aren’t ready for me or someone like me. “They aren’t ready.”

“I’ve got a lot going on at the restaurant.”

“Right. You’re busy.” Like I’m not busy too.

“Good.” Rome pats my knee and starts to push off and away from the couch.

“Good?” Shit. I should’ve just let that one slide.

He stops moving and looks me in the eye. “Good. We’re on the same page.”

“Right.” My head is bobbing up and down, and I’m not sure why. “Right. Same page.” It’s my turn to push myself up and off the sofa. “Welp. Good talk. Goodnight.” I practically run to the stairs. Good thing too, because my eyes are starting to burn. Maybe it’s from the eye makeup I decided to put on earlier. I wanted to look nice for Rome.

Ha. That’s a joke and a worthless endeavor to boot.

“Babe?”

Don’t look back. Just keep moving.“Night.”

I hear him sigh, “Night.”

And that does it. The first tear sneaks out just as I hit the second floor. Don’t worry, they aren’t sad tears. They’re angry ones. Angry at myself for getting my hopes up. I should’ve known that this stupid thing with Rome was temporary. A fantasy. Because life isn’t a fairy tale. It sucks––big ole donkey balls.

* * *

“Elizabeth?”

Shit. I didn’t even hear my door open.

Focusing on my voice to make it sound normal, I snap, “What?”

“You cryin’, honey?”

Fudge nuggets. “No.”

I feel the bed sink at my back. He’s sitting on the bed. Great. Just great.

“Look at me, Elizabeth.”

Can I say no? Can’t I just pretend to be asleep? Shit. I should’ve done that, except I just walked upstairs about two minutes ago. He’d never believe I was already asleep.

“Fine,” he sighs. I feel his hand touch my hair. “I thought about what I said downstairs.”

Me too.