The Getting a Grip Duet: Complete Box Set (#MyNewLife)

by M. E. Carter

  And yes, I said children’s section. As in, there is more than one section of gifts and goods to choose from. It really is a one-stop-shop of unique and quirky present ideas.

  “Sounds good to me. When we get home, we can look at our calendars and block out a day when James has the girls and you don’t have any parties.”

  Callie throws all the discarded banana peels in one of the now empty plastic bags. There is probably more rotten banana being tossed than there is good banana to eat, but at least they didn’t totally go to waste. I’m tired of spending a hundred bucks a year so I can watch the ripening process as it happens on my counter.

  “Why don’t you see if Greg can watch them that day?” She makes a face as one of the rotten parts squishes on her finger. “Seems like you guys have been trading off a lot lately.” She gestures toward Peyton who is happily picking flowers next to a wrestling Max and Christopher.

  “Yeah, Libby decided she had to work all weekend, so she dumped Pey off with him.”

  Callie holds up her hand, looking confused. “She has a job?”

  “Supposedly. She won’t give Greg a straight answer about where she’s working, and I’m not sure he really cares beyond curiosity anyway.”

  “Maybe she’s a stripper,” Callie spouts off as she combines the remnants of three different bags of chips into another bowl. That’s three more things I won’t have to bring home to my pantry.

  “I thought of that. But knowing Libby, she thinks she’s too good to be a stripper.” I shrug. “Maybe she’s a high-priced escort.”

  Callie munches on a chip and thinks for a second. “I wonder how much escorts really make. And if they really do have to put out.”

  I laugh. “I’ll be sure to ask her next time I run into her.”

  “I triple dog dare you.”

  Dropping the handful of leftover ketchup packets that have been saved up over the years onto the picnic table, I gape at her. “You can’t just skip to triple dog dare! You have to start with a regular dare!”

  “No way, man. I know you too well. I’ll have to challenge up every time you see her and it could be months before I get my answer.”

  “Selfish, selfish woman,” I grumble.

  “No, smart, smart BFF,” she brags. “Speaking of Peyton’s parental units, where is Greg anyway? How come you have Peyton?”

  Things are finally set up enough that I can pull out the main entrée... hot dogs. Of course, even when I don’t have time to go grocery shopping, I always have extra hot dogs on hand. Based on Callie’s non-reaction, this is not surprising to anyone.

  “He had to coach a meet today. I don’t know if another coach got sick or what, but he had to leave at six-thirty this morning to get there on time.”

  Callie waggles her eyebrows. “So I guess you had a slumber party last night?”

  I raise one eyebrow in return. “I never kiss and tell.”

  “Liar.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanna know about this slumber party.”

  “And I want you to call the kids for lunch.”

  She climbs off the bench with a groan. “You’re such a slave driver.” But she does it anyway.

  Just like I had planned, ok, fine, like I had hoped, the kids are perfectly content with hot dogs, mixed chips, half rotten bananas, and flat Diet Sprite. We call it a “mish-mosh” lunch and they are so entertained by the word “mish-mosh”, they keep giggling while they eat, which is making Callie and I giggle, too.

  Until a familiar voice shows up.

  “Hi Callie. Elena,” Deborah says in greeting, a tight look on her face.

  This is the first time we have run into each other since the incident I call “Doomsday Playdate.” She looks nervous, which is not something I’ve ever seen on her face. The only thing I’ve ever seen on her face is a smile, or a scowl. And possible a speck of Brie during the RowRow party at her house, after she “dropped” the plate full of cheese on the counter.

  But this anxiety is different and, dare I say, the most honest I’ve ever seen her be. Trevor must feel her nerves, as he’s hiding behind her legs.

  It makes me kind of sad that her poor son, who had such a hard time making friends with my girls, has already lost his nerve with our kids. And dammit, if that doesn’t make me feel guilty about cutting off that relationship so abruptly.

  “Hi, Deborah.”

  “Deborah,” Callie and I address her simultaneously.

  Deborah clears her throat. “I didn’t expect to see you guys here.”

  “We come every Saturday,” Callie explains, and I watch Deborah’s face fall as she realizes she’s been uninvited to our playdates.

  And the guilt piles on.

  Well, hell.

  “Oh,” Deborah utters sadly, nodding her head like she understands why we wouldn’t want her around.

  The kids keep munching away, staying unusually quiet. They’re either picking up on the tension surrounding them, or they’re really enjoying their mish-mash. It must be the food. I made it with love.

  #sarcasm

  “So, um, I wanted to apologize,” Deborah utters, shocking Callie and I both.

  We look at each other, Callie’s drink bottle frozen halfway to her mouth.

  She clears her throat and puts the bottle down on the table. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

  Deborah nervously bites her lip before responding. “For the way I treated you, Elena.”

  I have to give her credit. I never expected for Deborah to speak to me again, let alone apologize. I admit, my respect for her has shot up several notches because she had the guts to approach us.

  “What do you mean?” I question. I know what she means, but I want to hear her explanation. Maybe there’s something I’m missing and some reason I need to forgive and forget.

  She sniffs and glances around the park, avoiding eye contact. “My husband says I’m really judgmental and…” she glances at the kids and lowers her voice before saying, “… witchy.”

  My lips quirk to the side. The only little ears she’s protecting are Trevor’s. And maybe her own.

  “He points it out all the time. I really don’t mean to be, it’s just…” She shifts on her feet, biting her lip again and wringing her hands in front of her. Now half the kids are watching the awkward display in front of them like it’s their own personal dinner theater. “My mom was really, really strict with public impressions. I couldn’t do anything, go anywhere without an outfit, full make-up, and my hair done. Not even the doctor’s office when I was sick. She always used to say the way you present yourself is the most important thing.”

  “Your first impression isn’t the problem, Deborah,” I point out.

  She nods. “I know. But sometimes when we’re with other people, especially people I don’t know, it makes me really anxious to think about who is going to overhear a lewd comment or think I’m not classy enough because of who I’m with.”

  “So I’m not classy enough for you,” I challenge, and she winces.

  “That’s not what I mean,” she quavers. “It’s not that you’re not classy enough. It’s that you don’t care what people think of you. I admire that so, so much. I wish I could be like that. But the anxiety I feel sometimes about being perfect is almost crippling.”

  Glancing over at Callie, I see her sitting back, letting Deborah say her piece and letting me decide how to handle the situation. Not that I have any idea what to do. But knowing Deborah feels that bad about herself makes me sad.

  “I didn’t mean to make you think I was judging you, Elena.” Tears glisten in her eyes and I realize how hard this conversation is for her. “In my mind, I was reminding you to be the best version of yourself while we were here.”

  “But that’s not what it felt like.”

  “I know.” Her voice is so quiet I have to lean in to hear her. “And I’m sorry. I really like you guys and wish we could be friends, but I understand why you wouldn’t want to be around me. I hope if
we see you out here again, you’ll let Trevor play with your kids. I want him to grow up to be more like them than like me.”

  Well, hell. If a mother’s plea for friends for her child isn’t enough to warrant letting this go, I don’t know what is.

  I take a breath and look at Callie who is smiling. She knows my heart and knows what I need to forgive people boils down to one word… remorse. And damn it all, if Deborah didn’t take full responsibility for her own actions.

  Leaning forward on my elbows, I look her straight in the eye. She looks sad, remorseful, and a little bit scared.

  “What I like about you, Deborah, is your smile. You bring this joy into the room wherever you go.”

  She blinks back her tears, shock evident on her face.

  “But then you ruin it by worrying what people are thinking about you. You completely miss that you make such an amazing first impression.”

  “Really?” she murmurs. “You really think that about me?”

  I nod. “I absolutely do. So, here’s what’s going to happen.”

  Callie chuckles but we ignore her as we work out the boundaries of our own friendship.

  “You and Trevor are going to join us for lunch, and then we’re going to let the kids play together while we sit here and enjoy the adult interaction.”

  “Ok,” she agrees quickly, wiping a lone tear off her cheek.

  “And every time you start that judgmental crap again, I’m going to call you out. I spent a lot of time learning how to be ok with myself and who I am, I’m not going to let you unravel it.”

  “And I don’t want to,” she practically pleads. “I like you the way you are.”

  “And you’re going to learn to like yourself the way you are, too. Got it?”

  The tears are flowing freely now as she sits down in an empty spot, Trevor sitting down next to her. Callie and I hand them each a hot dog and pass over the bowls of chips and browning bananas.

  As she fixes a plate for herself and her son, the smile she normally wears, the genuine one that expresses her happiness, crosses her face. Trevor even seems lighter as the children begin to chatter again, seemingly aware that the show is over.

  Well, almost.

  “I assume you guys said the blessing before we sat down?” Deborah challenges.

  I give her a hard glare and she winces.

  “I did it again, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s ok.” And just to prove that I can accept her for her flaws if she can accept mine, I hand her the olive branch I never thought I’d ever give…

  “Can I borrow your hand sanitizer?”

  Her responding grin practically lights up the playground.

  Yep. Forgiving her was definitely the right thing to do.

  And just like that, our weekly playdates expand by two.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elena

  “Good morning, Elena.”

  The deep timber of his voice startles me out of my focused thoughts causing me to whack my foot on the overflowing recycle box under my desk.

  “Ouch!” I call out, immediately reaching to rub my stubbed toe.

  Tripp’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, Elena, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

  Examining my throbbing appendage, I curse myself under my breath for wearing sandals today instead of something with a covered toe. At least I have an excuse to go shoe shopping. Obviously, these aren’t “work appropriate.” Yay!

  “It’s ok,” I finally respond, still wincing a bit. “I’m behind on my shredding again.” I gesture to the overflowing box. “It’s like having a giant brick down here. It’s great as an ottoman. Not so good when I kick it.”

  His handsome face changes from a guilty expression to a panty-dropping smile.

  Damn. He really is an attractive man. If only I was fifteen years younger.

  Ummm, nope. I think I’d still want Greg.

  “You were concentrating really hard.” He leans his hard body against my desk, crossing his feet. “What does Principal Windham have you working on today?”

  I pull my arms across my chest, stretching my back muscles. Hunching over a computer for long periods of time makes me ache. Yet more proof that I’m not young anymore. “I’m updating everything on the website. Now that the district is changing our email portal, I’m trying to make sure all the teacher’s email addresses are current.”

  “I thought the rollover wasn’t happening for another couple of months.”

  “It’s not,” I agree. “But I need to get the new information set up while both email addresses still funnel to the same place. Less confusion for the parents that way.”

  “Ah.” He crosses his arms and gets more comfortable. “So you’re planning ahead.”

  “Clearly not since all my paperwork is getting backed up under here,” I state, tapping the box again with my uninjured foot.

  “You know, if you need help, I’m always willing to stay a little late so we can get it all done.” He throws me a smoldering pout. A couple months ago, that look might have made me swoon. But now it doesn’t do anything except make me flattered that he thinks I’m fun to flirt with.

  As much as I want to bat my eyes at him, even if it’s just to keep the fun banter going, I can’t seem to do much more than give him a smile that resembles a mother humoring her son.

  “As much as I appreciate the offer, you know the shredder is where I get all my inner-office gossip. And I can’t miss out on that.”

  He belts out a sexy, throaty laugh, that does absolutely nothing to turn me on. Seriously. Greg has ruined me.

  “And how are the office lovebirds doing anyway?” he inquires, even though he knows I don’t usually divulge anyone else’s information. This time, however, I’ll humor him a bit.

  Looking around making sure no one is approaching, I reveal, “Not so loving anymore.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Really. I was wondering if that ass grab was really an accident.”

  My jaw drops. “She did not!”

  “Oh, yes she did,” he assures, his body language indicating he’s not nearly as traumatized as he pretends to be. “Last week when we were on that field trip. She claims she accidentally brushed up against me while we were getting on the bus, but it felt an awful lot like a full-palmed caress.”

  I laugh so hard I’m grateful to already be sitting down. “Like she… she…” I can’t catch my breath. “… like she caressed your bum?”

  “Cupped my behind, complete with a squeeze.”

  Tears leak out of my eyes, and I can hardly breathe, but I can see him laughing right along with me. Like I said… totally traumatized.

  It takes a few seconds to pull myself back together. “I’m so sorry.” Waving my hands in front of my eyes, I try to dry up the tears and pull my breathing together. “I can’t wait for the rumor mill to start spinning about this.”

  He groans. “I was doing so good staying out of that web.”

  “No you weren’t.” He looks at me quizzically. “Oh please. You can’t convince me you haven’t noticed the way all the single women around here ogle you.”

  He twists his lips to the side playfully. “Not all of them.”

  “Pfft. Name one woman in this building that doesn’t start drooling when you do that whole hands-in-your-pockets-pulling-your-pants-tight-over-your-ass move.”

  His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “How did you know that was a move?”

  “Who doesn’t know that’s a move?”

  Lies, lies and more lies. I had no idea that was a move until Callie told me. But he doesn’t need to know that. Interested in him or not, I don’t want him to think I’m a complete tool.

  “Hmm,” he hums in answer, the guttural sound practically vibrating through me. And still… my hormones don’t seem to notice. “I thought I was smoother than that.”

  “Oh, you’re smooth,” I jest, leaning back in my chair. “Some of us have ju
st been around a while. We know all the moves. We were there when they were invented.”

  He looks me dead in the eye and lays it on the line. “Is that why you won’t go out with me?”

  My breath catches. It’s been so long since the last time we talked about it, I thought he’d given up on the idea of taking me out.

  “Tripp,” I interject quietly.

  “No, it’s ok.” He looks down and shrugs. “I know my age is a deterrent.”

  Placing my hand on his forearm, I set him straight. “It’s not your age, Tripp. It’s not even mine. I mean, originally I hesitated because I’ve never been a cougar before.” His lips curl up in partial amusement. “But that has nothing to do with it now.”

  He peers up at me. “Then what is it?”

  The door suddenly opens up and a throat clears behind me. Without even turning around, I know who it is. “I already found the love of my life.”

  Tripp takes stock of Greg standing in front of my desk and then winks my direction. “At least I know it’s not about me.”

  Shooting him a delighted expression, I finish putting him at ease. “Nope. Not at all. My destiny just involves a really hot, scruffy gymnastics coach. But don’t give up yet. You’ll find her. You have at least fifteen years.”

  He blows out an exasperated breath. “That’s a long time to wait.”

  “It’s worth it. I promise.”

  Tripp pats my hand and pushes off my desk. “I guess I should head back to my class. My conference period will be over soon and I better be ready for the hooligans to show up.”

  He turns to walk away, but I stop him. “Hey Tripp, can I give you some advice?”

  Looking over his shoulder, he waits for my words of wisdom.

  “Don’t try to find her in this school. I hear everything and just…” I shake my head and crinkle my nose. “… just trust me.”