“She’s Troy’s mom.”
“What?” It’s hard to hide the shock in my voice. “I didn’t think she was around.”
Derek sips on his wine. “She wasn’t. Until this morning.”
“What’d she want?” I ask him.
“To see Troy.”
“Are you going to let her?”
Derek shrugs. “I need to talk to my lawyer. Figure out what I need to do.”
“I can’t believe she just showed up,” my mom interjects, “on Christmas of all days.”
It’s hard not to be surprised by this news. From everything Derek has told me about Troy’s mom, she has been out of the picture for at least the last year. Took the money Derek gave her and ran.
Even before then, she was always in and out of Troy’s life whenever she decided she wanted to be a mom. With my ex, at least he wanted to be a part of Lydia’s life. As much as I hated that things didn’t work out for us, I know he’s a good dad to her. He wants to be involved in her life.
I can’t imagine what Derek is going through right now. Poor Troy is the one that suffers the most with his mom going in and out of his life. I wouldn’t wish that on any child.
“Can I do anything to help?” I ask Derek as our parents have their own conversation about Missy.
Derek leans back in his chair, sipping on his wine. “If I knew what you could do, I’d tell you.”
I reach out and rest my hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry. I hate that it puts you in this position.”
He sighs. “And Troy. Is she going to stick around this time? Or will she only be here for a few weeks and then cut out again?”
“I’m ready for hockey!” Troy announces, running back into the living room.
“I think we’ll head out,” Tony says. “Let you two have the night together.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell him.
“Think I can get a ride home with you?” Mom asks them.
“Really, you don’t have to go,” I urge, but I’m ignored.
Everyone says good night to Troy, Derek, and me before heading out.
“They didn’t have to leave,” I tell Derek, who is laughing with Troy by his side.
“Parents. They never listen.” He’s shaking his head.
“Hockey time!” Troy rushes over to grab the two sticks and hands me one. “Stand in front of your goal and don’t let me score.”
“Okay.”
I bend down, holding the stick as best I can, and watch as Troy screws up his face before shooting the puck.
“Wow!” The small, Styrofoam puck breezes right by me and hits the back of the net. “That was amazing. Is this your first time?”
Using the stick, I fish the puck out of the back of the plastic net and send it back over to Troy.
He shakes his head and lets another one go by me again. “I’ve been playing all day.”
“He’s really good,” I tell Derek. “I know it’s a play set, but he’s good.”
