“Are you that big of an insensitive ass**le that you even have to ask?”
“I’m an ass**le because you’re getting pissed I’m watching some old interview of Davis’?”
“Aren’t you perceptive?” Megan snapped sarcastically.
“I thought you were over him,” Sean countered.
Megan didn’t even bother trying to explain to Sean that even after two years, it was hard getting over the man who left you knocked up and refused to have anything to do with his son besides signing a check. As a teenage male, Sean just didn’t have that much emotional depth to understand that a wound like that may look like it has healed, but it was always festering just below the surface.
“I am,” she lied. “But that doesn’t mean I want to see him. Most people get to leave their ex-boyfriends behind, but I have to have mine thrust into my face during football season. But even when that’s over, he still seems to be creeping around.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she shot a death glare at Sean. “It would be nice if you cared enough about me not to want to watch him.”
“Can I help that your douchebag ex happens to play for the Falcons, and ESPN is doing an interview?”
“You don’t have to be watching it in my presence!”
At her outburst, Sean held up his hands in defeat. “Sorry. I didn’t know it got to you that bad. I’ll turn the channel next time, okay?”
“Fine,” she muttered. Feeling slightly psychotic after her outburst, she kept her head down as she headed for the hall closet. Thankfully, her navy blue dress hung on the rack still in the plastic from the dry cleaners. When she turned around, she found her mother outfitted in her finest pale pink suit. She eyed Megan’s robe-clad form disdainfully. “Megan, we leave in half an hour. Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
Closing her eyes, Megan counted to ten so she wouldn’t bite her mother’s head off. “I left my dress up here after I picked it up at the dry cleaners. I’ll be ready on time. I promise.”
“Would you like me to get Mason dressed?”
“I’ve already taken care of him. It’s just me that needs to get her act together.” Without another word, she brushed past her mother and went into the kitchen. Wearing his best suit and tie, her father stood at the bar, putting on his cufflinks.
At his expectant look, she held up her hand. “I know we leave in half an hour. I’ll be ready. I swear.” She then threw open the basement door. Pounding down the steps, she tried calming down. She didn’t know what it was about her parents’ seemingly good intentions that grated on her last nerve. Of course, they hadn’t bothered her as much when she had lived alone. Now that she was back under their roof, they seemed to forget she was twenty-five, a mother, and not their little girl to boss around anymore.
With clinicals looming to enable her to finish her nursing degree, she’d known she wouldn’t be able to work fulltime. Although she loved the freedom and independence of having her own apartment, there was no way she could afford it and daycare for Mason. So, she’d packed up, tucked her tail between her legs, and moved back home to her parents’ finished basement.
It wasn’t all bad. She had her own kitchen and bathroom, not to mention she and Mason still had their own rooms. With her father recently retired, she had a great male role model on site for Mason.
She found him exactly as she had left him, lounging on the couch watching his favorite movie, Despicable Me. She smiled at the sight of him in his khaki pants, black, button down dress shirt, and red clip-on tie. He looked just like a little man sitting there, even though he had just turned seventeen months the day before. Usually, he would be tearing around the living room, playing with his toys. But just one look at a minion sent him practically catatonic. That had been Megan’s plan when she got him dressed earlier. He’d seen the movie almost by mistake, considering he was a little young for the PG cartoon, but with older cousins, along with her brothers, Mason was often exposed to things that were older. She liked to think being surrounded by adults and older kids was one reason why he was a such a good talker for his age.
“Aren’t you being a good boy?” she said.
Mason barely acknowledged her. Instead, his baby blues remained focused on the television. Since the movie was almost over, Megan knew she better slip into the bedroom and finish getting ready.
Each time she looked into Mason’s face, she was grateful that he looked nothing like his father. His platinum blond hair and blue eyes were completely hers. It was only his build that he was taking after his father. Where Megan was a diminutive 5’3”, Davis was 6’1” and two hundred pounds. Mason was already registering off the charts in height and weight according to his pediatrician.
Davis had seen Mason only twice in his lifetime—the day he had been born and the day he came home from the hospital. After that, he hadn’t been interested in any of the pictures and emails Megan sent. With his professional football career on the rise, Davis hadn’t wanted to be shackled with the responsibilities of a baby. Instead, he wanted to spend his time off the field partying until all hours of the night. He only paid child support when Megan threatened to have his wages garnished. She dreaded the day when Mason was old enough to ask about his father. She never wanted anything in the world to hurt him, and she knew that being rejected by his father would.
With a sigh, she stepped into the dress and slid it over her hips. Wrestling around to get the zipper all the way up caused her to huff and puff. Standing back from the mirror, she turned to and fro to take in her appearance. She’d always loved how the dress made her feel sexy, but at the same time was very respectable. While it boasted a sweetheart neckline, the hemline fell just below her knees. She put on her pearls—a high school graduation gift from her Uncle Aidan, or “Ankle”, as she often called him.