by Steph Nuss
The tension radiating between us cranked up my anxiety.
Taking a step back from him, I regained my composure and smiled up at him weakly. “First, I want to thank you for promoting the hospital’s volunteer services during your radio interview. We’ve been getting calls from others interested in volunteering, so we really appreciate the support.”
“You’re welcome,” he said politely, crossing his arms over his chest. “Second?”
Anxiety held on for dear life as I tried to swallow it down.
Placing my hands on my hips to avoid fiddling with them, I nervously rambled as I stared back at him. “Secondly, there’s this boy who has a birthday coming up, and he’s asked me if you’re coming to his party. And I didn’t know, which only made him madder at me. So, I—”
“I’m coming,” he interjected in a firm voice. “I don’t care if you don’t want me there. I promised Zane, so I’m going to be there for him. I just need to know how many people are coming so I can make sure to bring a vehicle that will hold everyone comfortably.”
God, I love how much he cares about Zane. I loved how he consistently put him first. Even after the way I treated him, he still wanted to be there for my son.
Happy tears took over my vision again. “You don’t have to drive us. We can get an Uber.”
He stepped closer to me and took one of my hands in his. “I want to drive us.”
A tear fell onto my cheek as I shut my eyes and bowed my head, silently hoping my few tears didn’t turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess.
“Whit, what’s with the tears?” he asked, his tone comforting.
“I want you there,” I confessed, drying my eyes. “Zane’s been giving me the silent treatment. I tried explaining to him why I acted the way I did, but all he cares about is whether or not you’re coming to his party. And I couldn’t give him an answer. He’s never been this upset with me before, so it will be nice to give him some good news.”
“Come here.” He pulled me in close and wrapped his arms around me tight, and the world around us faded away. Our fight didn’t exist. Our heated exchange was forgotten. Bodies flushed, standing together in a quiet hallway, we found home again in each other’s arms. Warm and welcoming, his body comforted mine. His lips kissed my temple, and I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder as he rubbed my back. “He doesn’t understand that you were just being a mom. You’re allowed to freak out. You’re allowed to say things you don’t mean.”
“I’m not allowed to get away with it though, Max,” I said regretfully. “You deserve an apology.”
“Not right now,” he insisted, shaking his head. “Right now, I just want you. I want to hold you for a few more seconds before I have to go back in there and put up with that old, cheating bastard.”
I laughed lightly as he caught a stray tear with his thumb.
“We can figure everything else out later. Let’s just get through Zane’s birthday party, and go from there.”
“Okay.” Pulling back, I smiled up at him and cupped his face. “Thank you for being so patient. I’ve missed you.”
“God,” he said, before kissing me fervently. “I’ve missed you more. I don’t care how many times we fight, no more silent treatments from you.”
“Hey, I answered text messages,” I quipped.
“Not good enough,” he stated honestly. “I can’t do this if every time we fight, it turns into me being told to leave or you storming out and taking Zane with you. So, promise me, no leaving. We can fight. We can give each other space. But we don’t leave. We figure it out together.”
“I promise,” I whispered against his lips. I kissed him once more and then rested my forehead against his. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was the middle of the seventh at Citi Field. The Mets were up by three, and the five of us were having a blast. Zane had invited two of his friends to come with us, Travis and Dustin. The moment we’d arrived at the stadium, all three of them wanted something different from the concession stand. Whitley made the boys get waters, and I had gotten us a couple of beers, and then we’d filled up on popcorn, peanuts, and hot dogs. After the first foul ball was hit toward us, the boys forgot all about food and focused on the game. Three rows up from the Mets’ dugout, Zane caught a foul ball in the third inning, wearing my baseball glove on his uninjured arm since I was left-handed. Travis had a ball tossed to him from one of the players coming in from the outfield during the fifth, and Dustin caught another foul ball in the sixth. The three of them were now trying to get their baseballs signed during the seventh-inning stretch.
“Look at him!” Whitley exclaimed, laughing. “He’s trying to get them to sign his cast.”
“Smart boy,” I laughed, before taking a sip of my second beer.
“Thank you again for upgrading our seats,” she said, smiling over at me. “We’ve been to a lot of games, but none of them have been this exciting.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I said, resting the back of my hand on her thigh. “It’s fun watching them enjoy the game.”
She tangled her fingers with mine and went back to watching the boys. Today, she sported a blue Mets tank top that scooped low enough to see the swell of her breasts and a pair of white jean shorts that made her olive skin appear darker. Her ponytail was pulled through the back of her Mets baseball cap, and she wore aviator sunglasses that also helped keep the sun out of her eyes. I’d spent most of the game so far volleying back and forth from watching the boys have fun to admiring her sitting next to me.
I was so lucky to be here with them this afternoon.
There was nowhere else I’d rather be right now than celebrating Zane’s birthday. I used to think my own birthdays were something special, that is until I aged and realized birthdays were just another day. Helping make Zane’s birthday a big deal was better than all of my birthdays and regular days in my life combined.
This constant need to make his days better than any of mine was how I imagined parenting felt.
“Mom! Max!” Zane shouted, raising his orange cast in the air. “I got two players to sign my cast!”
She laughed. “Good for you!”
“That’s awesome!”
Whitley sighed and then muttered. “Now he’s never going to want to throw away that nasty thing once he gets it off.”
“You’re probably right,” I laughed.
He turned back to his friends, who were admiring their signed baseballs, and then the three of them rushed back up to their seats next to us.
“Let me see your ball,” I said, grabbing Zane’s baseball.
“I got a lot of autographs!” he said proudly.
“You did,” Whitley mused.
I only recognized the names of players by their numbers scribbled next to their signatures. There were a few I knew on a first-name basis and others that I followed for their talent. “You have a lot of good ones. We’ll have to get a display for it. You never want to play with this baseball. It’s a collector’s item now.”
“A display case would be cool.”
He took his seat again and went back to talking to his friends. Then the stadium started playing “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer, and the kiss cam scanned the crowd, looking for couples throughout the stadium. Whitley and I watched and laughed as it landed on some that participated and some that ignored it.
Then our faces appeared on the big screen and we laughed, sharing a surprised look, as the stadium erupted with fans that recognized me.
“KISS! KISS! KISS!” the boys shouted, pointing up at the screen.
We shared a smile, and then I quickly pulled her in for a sweet kiss with my hand at the nape of her neck, and the crowd went wild.
The song ended as we broke apart, and the seventh-inning stretch concluded with the players taking the field again.
“I’ve never been on the kiss cam before,” Whitley laughed.
Shaking
my head, I replied. “Neither have I!”
She gripped my chin and pulled me in for another kiss. “Glad we could break our kiss cam cherries together.”
***
After the game ended with a Mets’ win, we made the forty-minute drive to Economy Candy on the Lower East Side. While Manny navigated my SUV through the city, we watched Zane open his presents from Travis and Dustin. Travis had gotten him a new video game, and Dustin gave him Trivial Pursuit based on the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Zane was almost more excited to get home and play his new games than stop at the candy store. I’d been right there with him, studying the Trivial Pursuit game and the movies it covered. Hell, even I wanted to play it.
But that was before we got to Economy Candy. I’d lived in New York for years and never been to the store, and I was totally regretting it now. The shop was a candy lover’s heaven. All games were forgotten the moment we arrived. Whitley had told me about the store when we discussed Zane’s birthday, but I thought she’d been exaggerating when she said they had everything.
But she wasn’t …
They literally had EVERY candy I ever loved. I felt like a wide-eyed child, in awe of the shelves and bins of candy surrounding me, so much so that I just started grabbing all the delicious treats I missed from my youth.
Warheads? Check.
Whatchamacallits? Yes, please.
Atkinson’s Peanut Butter Bars? Hell yeah.
Laffy Taffy in cherry sparkle? The only flavor I liked.
Shock Tarts? No, now they were referred to as SweeTarts Chewy Sours.
Lemonheads? Mhmm.
Chocolate-covered sunflower seeds? Say no more.
Hershey’s Cookies ’N’ Creme bars? Only the best white chocolate candy bar that ever existed.
“Are you okay?” Whitley asked in a worried tone. “You do realize they have shopping baskets, right?”
I looked down at the nearly empty basket in her hand, and then all the items I was carrying. “You weren’t lying when you said they have everything.”
She giggled. “You thought I was?”
“I thought you were exaggerating!” I admitted, shaking my head in disbelief. “I haven’t had some of this stuff in years! I thought most of it was no longer around. Like a Whatchamacallit! Have you ever had one of those?”
“No,” she said, amused. “Can’t say I ever have.”
“Woman!” I dumped my items into her basket and then took it from her. “We need to get another box of them if you’ve never had them.”
“Never had what?” Zane asked from behind us.
“A Whatchamacallit.”
“I don’t know?” Zane replied, brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s why I asked.”
“No,” Whitley laughed, grabbing one out of our basket. “It’s a candy bar, sweetie. One that Max really likes apparently.”
“I do,” I stated, patting Zane on the shoulder. “What kind of candy do you like?”
“I like the roasted cashews,” he answered excitedly, leading us over to the nuts. “The pistachio toffee crunch is good, and I like the cashew patties covered in dark chocolate.”
Whitley laughed softly from behind me as she started bagging up nuts for him, and I whispered to her over my shoulder. “His favorite candy is a nut. There’s something wrong with that.”
“That’s not true,” she stated, rolling her eyes.
“Okay, Zane, besides the nuts, what other candy do you usually get here?” I asked.
He eyed the shelves around him and smiled. “I like the black licorice bites, orange slices, the candy Legos, and the assortment of salt water taffy!”
“What?” I asked incredulously. “Have you ever heard of Willy Wonka or Hershey’s or anything like that?”
He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care and then left us at the pistachios to go look around.
I leaned into Whitley, who was trying not to laugh at me. “He just named most of the same candies my parents enjoy. If his favorite licorice is the black flavor, he’s spending way too much time with Simon and Julia.”
“Maybe you can share some of your candy with him,” she said, gazing down at our full basket. “God knows, you got enough.”
I grabbed us another basket and she put Zane’s items in it. “Do you ever get anything here?”
“I get a couple candy necklaces,” she stated with a smile. “And a few PayDay bars and some packages of peach rings.”
“Thank you!” I exclaimed in a relieved tone, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “I was starting to worry that neither of you had ever had anything gummy before.”
“Oh, hush.” She playfully jabbed me in the abs with her finger. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in shape for your movie? You can’t keep that superhero bod with all that candy.”
“I’m not actually going to eat it all right now,” I confessed, admiring my stash. “This is just my year’s supply until we come back next year for his birthday.”
Her fingers gripped my Mets t-shirt, pulling my attention away from my basket to the woman I loved. Standing close together, I smiled down at her as I moved us out of another shopper’s way.
“What?” I asked, watching her beautiful eyes scan my face.
“You’re going to be here next year?” she mused, running her hand up my chest.
“Of course I am.” Her hand slid up to my neck and she pulled me down for a kiss. Against her lips, I continued, “And not just for the candy.”
***
After leaving the candy store, we took Travis and Dustin home, and Zane thanked them for the birthday presents and spending the day with him. Then we headed back to Whitley’s place and the three of us ate dinner together. Zane still had our presents to open and his birthday cupcake to enjoy. So, while Whitley rinsed our dinner plates, I stuck the nine-shaped candle into his baseball-decorated cupcake and lit it.
“Do you know what you’re going to wish for?” I asked, taking a seat next to him at the island.
“Yep!” he stated proudly. “Come on, Mom!”
“Okay, okay,” she said, drying her hands off on a towel.
Whitley grabbed her phone, turned on the video, and then we sang to him. He blew out his candle and then each of us devoured a chocolate cupcake.
“I love cupcakes!” Zane exclaimed before dropping the last bite in his mouth.
“They were pretty good,” Whitley said, picking up a crumb with her finger.
“I’d like to try some of Max’s candy he got though, too,” he said, his eager blue eyes pleading with me. “You’re going to share with me, right?”
“I will, but not tonight,” I said, ruffling his hair with my hand. “That stash has to last us until your next birthday.”
“You do have two more presents to open,” Whitley stated, nodding to the living room.
“Yes!”
Zane jumped down from his seat, and Whitley and I followed him into the living room. Two more presents awaited him on the coffee table. He grabbed Whitley’s first and quickly tore off the superhero wrapping paper. Lifting the lid off the box, he found a new comic book on a bed of tissue paper.
“Thanks, Mom!” he cheered, lifting the book out of the box. “I don’t have this one yet.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said, leaning into my side. “Open Max’s next.”
I anxiously waited as he ripped off the red wrapping paper. Part of the joy in watching him open his presents was watching his reaction, the other part was knowing how much he appreciated them. Picking the tape off the box, he pulled the flaps open and took out another comic book.
Except his reaction differed greatly with mine.
“Oh … My … God!” he shouted in a loud, surprised voice.
I laughed as Whitley leaned forward to see the book better.
“Which one is it?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter!” he stated, holding the book in his hands like it was a precious gem. “It’s signed by Stan Lee! He personalized it to me,
Mom!”
Whitley turned her head toward me and shook her head. “And how did you manage that?”
My shoulders shook with laughter as I leaned in and kissed her. “I didn’t kidnap him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Do tell,” she pressed.
I smiled at Zane and her. “He stopped by to film his cameo for the movie the other day. I had the comic book in my dressing room, so I asked him if he’d sign it for Zane. He was really cool about it.”
“I can’t believe you got to meet him!” He laid the book down carefully and then rushed over and gave me a hug. “Thank you so much, Max!”
“You’re very welcome.” I squeezed him tight and felt my heart race inside my chest. In that moment, I silently promised to make each of his birthdays and all of his regular days as special as this one.
Over my shoulder, he spoke to both of us. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun.”
“We had fun, too,” I said, rubbing his back.
“Anything for you, Z.” Whitley playfully pulled him out of my arms and then smothered him with kisses on his cheeks, making him laugh. “Now, it’s time to get ready for bed. It’s been a long day, and Opa and Oma are making a birthday brunch for you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He stepped away from her smiling, gathered his new comic books, and then headed down the hall to his room.
“He’s such a good kid.” I helped Whitley pick up pieces of torn wrapping paper and tissue.
“He is,” she agreed, smiling.
We threw away the trash, and our gazes connected as she caught me staring at her. Even doing a menial task such as cleaning up trash, she still looked so happy. I knew it was a lot of work to make Zane’s day special, but she gladly did it simply because he was her son. She put him first, and I followed suit, but we—our relationship and the love we shared—were just as important.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Can I stay tonight?” I asked, caging her in against the kitchen island. “I know it’s been a long day, and we’re both tired, but I’ve missed you.”
She settled her hands on my hips and sighed. “I want you to stay. After we say goodnight to Zane, I think we should talk. I owe you that apology.”