Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes

by Alexa Martin

  I waver on my decision for a split second when I see how much Jude seems to enjoy her drink, before getting my head back in the game. I focus on Hudson sitting on the other side of our dining table, wearing headphones and looking at his computer.

  “Okay.” I square my shoulders and take a deep breath, knowing this is the point of no return. “Where do we start?”

  “This is all the fun stuff.” Hudson hits a few keys on his computer before turning to me, and maybe it’s just my imagination, but I swear his smile gets bigger when he does. “First we’ll record the intro and outro you wrote, and then we’ll just start recording. I think you had . . .” He looks back to his computer, clicking around a few times. “Yeah, the content calendar has five different podcast topics for today. We can try to knock them all out or just wait and see how you’re feeling. There’s no rules. Just whatever works best for you.”

  See. It’s that.

  That’s what’s making me like him so much.

  With Ben, it wasn’t—and still isn’t—what worked best for me. It was all about him, all the time. And maybe some of that was my fault? I bent over backwards for him. I let him matter more than me. His job, his feelings, his time, everything was superior to me . . . and I’m still trying to come back from it.

  “I say we record all of them today,” Jude says when I don’t answer right away. “We’ll aim for thirty-to-forty-five-minute episodes, then we’ll do it again next month. I’d just rather be ahead of the game in case anything comes up for any of us.”

  I nod my head yes even though nothing will come up for me. If anything, I might have more time on my hands soon . . .

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to rid the lingering thought from my mind. This is supposed to be fun. I can’t think about the possibility of losing Adelaide before we record.

  “Are you all right, Lauren?” Hudson’s voice breaks through the fear trying to cloud my mind.

  When I open my eyes and look at him, the easygoing, happy Hudson I’m so used to seeing isn’t looking back at me. No, this man is intense and serious and worried . . . about me.

  The good thing about seeing him like this is it forces all thoughts of Ben and custody right out of my head.

  The bad thing about seeing him like this is it forces all thoughts of spending time with Hudson and him only ever looking at me this way right into my head.

  “Oh yeah . . . me? Yeah, no.” I stumble over my words, temporarily ignoring Jude’s laughter but making a mental note to yell at her later. “I’m good. Totally good. Sorry.”

  “Totally good?” Jude mocks my tone. “Like totally. Who even are you? Valley Lauren?”

  I cross yell at her off my mental checklist and replace it with kill her.

  “You’re the worst, and because of that, now you get to read the intro and outro.” I resist the urge to stick out my tongue as I find the script in the three-ring binder I’ve obsessively pieced together and shove it in front of her. “I already timed myself reading it. They’re both right around thirty seconds.”

  Where I’ve been silently freaking about being the opening voice of the podcast, Jude’s a freaking rock star and isn’t even a little nonplussed by it. She scans the script for a few seconds, taking her pen and adding a couple of notes before nodding at Hudson. “Got it.”

  He nods back and hits a few buttons. “Ready.”

  I knew it was coming, but the way Jude’s voice transforms from the teasing, slightly bored tone she’s been using all morning to the peppy, motivational influencer her followers love her so much for being still takes me by surprise.

  “Welcome to Mom Jeans and Martinis. I’m Jude Andrews.”

  She stops talking and I pick up on the cue. I try to forget all those times I’ve heard my voice on a voice mail or a video that Adelaide has taken of me and pretend like I have confidence. “And I’m Lauren Turner.”

  “On the surface, we couldn’t be more different. I’m a fitness influencer with a penchant for a good martini, Lauren’s a single mom who finds joy sneaking veggies into desserts, but we’re still best friends. Mom Jeans and Martinis is for millennial women trying their hardest to navigate this crazy life. Whether you’re single, married, divorced, have kids or don’t, this podcast is for you. Each week, we’ll dive into our wins and losses while helping you avoid the latter. So come on over! Here, the only thing stronger than the drinks is the friendship.”

  Hudson clicks something before giving a thumbs-up like a nerd, which makes him even cuter. “Got it. That was great!”

  “Thank you.” Jude looks entirely too smug taking a sip of her martini.

  I can’t help the way my eyes roll to the heavens. Modesty is definitely not in Jude’s vocabulary.

  “Let’s not forget who wrote the script so you could sound amazing.” It’s not much, but it’s all I have. I know Jude is going to upstage me on every aspect of this podcast . . . which is honestly part of the reason I agreed.

  But she can’t know that. Her head is already big enough.

  “It was actually amazing,” she says, shocking the ever-loving crap out of me. “The last line, ‘the only thing stronger than the drinks is the friendship,’ was so, so good!”

  I wasn’t expecting this at all, so I don’t really know what to say . . . a feeling that only burgeons when Hudson pipes in. “It really was. I can’t believe this is your first time doing this. I’ve met people who’ve been in the podcast game for years and still can’t write a precise, catchy intro.”

  “Aw, shucks. Thanks.” Warmth fills my stomach and cheeks as I try to wave them off. “You’re both too kind. It was only one paragraph.” The praise coming from both of them reminds me of Adelaide’s favorite movie, and I realize why Olaf likes warm hugs so much.

  “Huds,” Jude shouts much too loud for someone who’s only a couple of feet away. “Add an episode dedicated to allowing women to accept praise to the content calendar. And by women, I mean Lauren.”

  His chuckle washes over me just as the embarrassment hits. Yup. Totally killing Jude later.

  “Whatever.” I try to ignore both of them. I don’t know how long until my mom brings Adelaide back, and I want to get more than the opening recorded. “Let’s record something before a small child returns and makes it impossible.”

  Jude gives me a massive side-eye. She knows my game, but she also knows I’m not wrong.

  There was a time I thought being a stay-at-home mom was all I wanted, but as I stayed home with Adelaide, I knew that as much as I adored my child, I needed to work. So then I thought working from home was the epitome of living my best life . . . until I tried to get work accomplished with her at home. That was the moment I discovered work-at-home parents are either saints or superheroes, because I wanted to cry by noon.

  “Good call. You know I love my Addy, but I have a feeling her asking for snacks every five minutes would make the editing a little challenging.”

  That’s the understatement of the century.

  I flip through the binder until I find the notes I made for the first episodes. “Are you still good with talking about transitioning and adapting in the first episode and then making it a little lighter and talking about health and wellness for the second one?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Jude nods her head. “And thank you for taking charge of all the behind-the-scenes details. I really appreciate it.”

  “Well, we are doing this to help me, so it’s probably the least I could do since I wrangled you both into this.”

  “I don’t know about Jude,” Hudson says, speaking up before Jude has the chance, “but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I love doing podcasts and watching other people fall in love with it too.”

  Something about Hudson talking about falling in love causes my lungs to malfunction and my heart to stop beating. I’m so glad he’s helping us, but I honestly don’t know how I’m
going to survive working this close with him. He’s slowly—and unintentionally—breaking through every wall I’ve built around myself since Ben. And I don’t appreciate it.

  * * *

  • • •

  I don’t know why, but podcasting is exhausting.

  Sure, all I did was talk to my best friend for a few hours, but we talked about things that actually mattered. I was forced to say, out loud, to the world, how hard it was to transition from being a fiancée with no worries to a single mom whose entire life was filled with uncertainty. We talked about my crazy desire to belong, Jude’s even crazier desire to stand out, and how—whether you have kids or not—the growing expectations on children these days is out of control. I could’ve talked about the process of finding a school for Adelaide for hours. Even Jude was shocked by it. We also talked about sneaking veggies into food, and Jude gave tips on starting a fitness routine. A lot was said, and I really hope somebody ends up listening to it.

  I’m about three seconds away from asking Jude to make me one of the cocktails she’s sipping when a knock at the front door grabs my attention.

  Ever since the custody papers were delivered, my stomach falls to my feet when someone rings the doorbell or knocks. I didn’t think something like that could cause trauma, but it definitely did. Thankfully, before I can panic too much, Adelaide’s voice breaches the door and fills the living room.

  “Mommy! Hurry! I gotta go potty!”

  As I unlock the door, I think I hear my mom telling her this is why she should’ve saved her juice boxes until she got home.

  “Hey, sister girl!” I bend down and swoop her into my arms, smothering her face with kisses. “Did you have fun with Nana?”

  “So much fun!” She squeals and pushes out of my embrace. “I’ll tell you all about it after I go potty.”

  I put her down and she takes off, shouting, “Hi, Auntie Jude! Hi, other person!” as she runs up the stairs.

  My mom peeks around me, her eyes widening when she gets a good look at Hudson. The ever-present twelve-year-old inside of me whenever I’m around my mom panics like I got caught with a boy in my room. I rush to answer the question that most definitely wasn’t asked. “That’s Hudson, he’s helping us with the podcast.”

  My mom purses her lips and levels me with the same look that’s brought fear into my life for the last twenty-eight years. “Mmm-hmm . . .” Only she’s capable of filling a sound with so much judgment. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.” She hands me the canvas grocery bags I didn’t even notice she was holding. “We stopped by Target on the way home and she picked out a few little things. But I got you those granola bars I know you like and a few face masks I’ve heard good things about.”

  My mom always spoils the heck out of Adelaide, so I’m not surprised when I look in the bag and see a new leotard, two Barbies, and the sticker books she loves. But I am surprised she thought of me.

  “Wow . . .” I don’t really know what to say. “Thanks, Mom. That was really thoughtful of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She waves her hand in front of me, and her low-cut nails, which are always painted clear, are now a very glossy baby pink. I can’t help but smile thinking of what Adelaide must’ve said to get her to agree to that. “It’s just a little something.”

  “Well . . .” I start, but a little ball of energy blasts back down the stairs, interrupting my train of thought. “Adelaide, come give Nana a hug and thank her for your new goodies and having you over.”

  “Thanks, Nana!” She barrels into my mom’s legs, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing tight.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for my manicure,” my mom says, confirming my earlier assumption. “Don’t stay away from me and Papa so long, we missed you.”

  “I know,” Adelaide says. “I kept telling Mommy that you needed Addy time too.”

  “You did.” I can feel my smile stretching in the way it only does when I’m with Adelaide. I love her confidence. I love that she knows how loved she is. It’s moments like these when I don’t feel like I’m completely screwing up this motherhood thing. “We’ll call Nana and set up another day soon, okay?”

  “Okay,” Adelaide says, and then, like a five-year-old with an attention span of ten seconds, she pulls the bag from my hand. “Can I go show my new toys to Auntie Jude?”

  “Of course you can!” Jude yells from the kitchen. “I hope you got more Barbies for our rock band. Jade’s slacking on the drums and needs a replacement.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was amusement and not irritation in my mom’s eyes when she watches Adelaide run off to show her new treasures to Jude.

  My mom adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “She hasn’t had dinner yet, just lunch and a few snacks after.”

  I know snacks is code for candy and other sugary treats, but I don’t care. I’m glad Adelaide has this relationship with my parents. I loved my grandma so much, and when I was pregnant, I was so worried Adelaide wouldn’t get that relationship.

  “I’ll get dinner going then.” The tension between us grows with Adelaide gone. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

  “You’re welcome. Call me soon and update me on everything with custody.”

  “I will.” I don’t want to, but I will. “Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye.” Lines strain around her mouth, and I know she wants to frown, but instead she offers a weak smile before turning and going back to her car.

  I lock the door behind her and walk toward where Adelaide is talking a mile a minute to Jude and Hudson.

  “I’m going to get started on dinner,” I say, interrupting her as she’s describing all the ways her new toy can be played with. “Is everyone okay with lasagna roll ups?”

  “Yeah!” Adelaide and Jude shout in unison.

  The first time I offered this meal, Jude almost had a heart attack. Carbs are the equivalent to the devil in her book. She didn’t relax until I told her I use zucchini instead of noodles.

  I look to Hudson, who doesn’t answer. “You’re staying, right? The least we can do is feed you after you listened to us talk for so long.”

  “Um, yeah. Sure.” Color rises in his cheeks, probably from being put on the spot, and I kick myself a little. “That sounds good.”

  “Are you sure?” I try to walk back my offer. He’s probably so sick of us. “I won’t be offended if you don’t want to stay.”

  “He wants to stay,” Jude says. “Hudson needs your lasagna rolls. Everyone needs to experience them.”

  “Okay then.” I glare at Jude but try to fix my face when I look at Hudson. “I’ll get dinner started.”

  “And I’ll show Hudson all my toys.” Adelaide says this as if it is the most exciting thing ever, and I cringe a little for the evening Hudson doesn’t even know he’s in for.

  By the time I pull dinner out of the oven, Adelaide has been entertaining Jude and Hudson for well over an hour. Last I heard, they were discussing who’d be lead vocals for the rock band.

  Poor Hudson had no idea what he was agreeing to when he chose to stay. I’m not sure my lasagna is going to be worth it for him. Hopefully it doesn’t make him quit coming to help us.

  I put the lasagna on the table with the salad and bread basket before going upstairs to get everyone.

  Once I reach the top, the lack of noise is almost concerning. After the amount of sugar I’m sure Adelaide consumed today, I’m surprised she’s not bouncing off the walls. I start tiptoeing, more curious than anything to see what’s happening, when Hudson’s voice floats into the hallway.

  “Ready, Addy?” he asks. “The Addy Show take five in three . . . two . . . one.”

  “Welcome to The Addy Show!” Jude’s voice is just as bubbly as it was when she recorded the intro to our podcast. “Here’s the star you’ve been waiting for, Addy June Keane!”

  Ap
plause of way more than two people starts to play, and my curiosity is at an all-time high when I peek in Adelaide’s room.

  And what I see takes my breath away.

  Hudson is sitting on the floor, his computer in front of him. His camera with a microphone is on a tripod, aimed at Adelaide, who’s on her bed with her Barbies and stuffed animals all around her. A sign that says “The Addy Show” is taped on the wall behind her in handwriting I don’t recognize.

  I push the door open a little wider, accidentally pulling Adelaide’s attention from the activity at hand.

  “Mommy!” She leaps off her bed, causing some of her stuffed animals to tip over. “Look at what Hudson let me do!” She grabs my hand and pulls me farther into her room. “It’s The Addy Show! He let me pick out special music on his computer and even made me this pretty sign! Isn’t it so awesome?”

  “It’s so awesome,” I say, because it is. It’s unbelievably freaking awesome. “But I think we’re going to have to take a quick dinner break.”

  “Yay! Lasagna!” She drops my hand like a bad habit, racing over to Hudson and wrapping her little fingers around his wrist. “Come on, Hudsie. You can sit by me!”

  Hudsie.

  Oh my freaking god.

  “Sounds good.” Hudson stands up, his smile not faltering in the slightest. “After we eat all of our food, we’ll come finish and I’ll show you how I edit it, and you can pick some cool visual effects like rainbows and sparkles to add to your show.”

  “Rainbows?” Adelaide breathes out the word like she can’t believe her luck. “Hurry! Let’s go eat!”

  She starts running, never easing up on his wrist as she pulls him out of her room.

  But when they walk past me, I swear time stops. His smile is like a slow-motion film as he looks at me. I see it as the creases around his eyes deepen and his smile gets just a fraction wider. Then I watch as his free hand moves toward me, my entire body tightening in anticipation until he reaches me and gives my hand a squeeze that causes every nerve ending in my body to light up in a way I’ve never, ever felt before.