Simone loathed Kent, since it was her duty as best friend. Thus she had no problem taking the opportunity to leave.
“Let’s get you guys ready for bed,” Simone said, shooing the kids up the stairs as April rose to say the necessary goodbye.
“April, I wanted to ask you why our kids are all using the word ‘banana’ for everything.” Kent asked.
“That’s on me.” Jack raised his hand. “April wasn’t involved.”
“I’m Kent,” Kent said, holding his hand to Jack, “and you are?”
Jack waited a moment too long before shaking Kent’s hand. “Jack.”
“And you’re here because…?” Kent asked.
“Because it’s none of your business,” Kitty said. “Don’t you have a hole to crawl back into?” She gestured regally toward the door.
“Probably time to skedaddle”—Yelena looked pointedly at the door—“Kent.”
Kent’s expression soured. “I see nothing’s changed but the wall color.”
April didn’t like that. Didn’t like it at all. Lots had changed.
“Jack’s here, too, now.” Kitty had a look on her face like she was about to spill all the backbend beans to April’s ex. “That’s changed. And he taught your kids a secret language.”
“I’ll walk you out,” April said, already heading for the door.
Of course, she briefly questioned leaving Kitty alone in a room with Jack. But Yelena would be a buffer for anything Kitty decided to say.
Kent followed April’s lead for what had to be the first time ever, and he let her walk him out. Oddly, this felt nice, her making the call that he should go.
He said nothing on the walk to his new convertible. No questions about Jack or what Kitty was doing on the floor. This was good, since Jack was, as Kitty said, none of his business. And Kitty was Kitty.
“I saw your…video,” he said.
Great. Fabulous. So he’d been witness to her humiliation. She refused to let him make her feel crappier than he already had. So, yeah, she’d screwed up royally. She was fixing it.
Tonight had been a giant leap in that direction.
The power was still hers.
He pursed his lips as they approached his car. The thing was going to be a bitch to manage in the snow this winter.
“Yeah.” She didn’t say anything else, because what was there to say that the video hadn’t already said?
“You know, I didn’t want it to be like this.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Like what? You leaving, the kids struggling, and me alone?”
He had the audacity to look sincere. “I don’t want to be the bad guy.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” she said, the words strong and with an edge, because he’d sucked the happy right out of her awesome day.
He climbed into his car and rolled down the window. He looked like he wanted to say something but refrained. This was good, because she didn’t need him talking down to her. She had vigilante mommy bloggers for that.
She stood there, arms crossed, holding herself up.
“You know,” she said, “if you wanted to call your kids sometimes, they’d probably like that.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
