Page 79 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

“You’re hungry because you didn’t eat your meatballs.” I kick out of the sneakers I’d worn to Owen’s indoor soccer practice. “They’re still on the table.”

“I don’t want meatballs!”

“Mabel.” I sigh. This is the time of day where the mom-cape gets a little ratty. I’ll mend it before bed and start fresh tomorrow, but right now… “Please don’t.”

She stomps her foot. “I’m not eating meatballs.”

“You love meatballs.”

“You said tacos.” Her eyes shimmer with crocodile tears.

I seriously consider breaking down and giving her a cookie.

I don’t even want to think about why I forgot the taco shells.

I inhale through my nose. “We’ll do tacos tomorrow.”

“I want them now!”

“I don’t have them now.” I grind my teeth.

“Come on, Mabel,” Owen says with that easy big-brother grin that always gives her pause when she’s edging a tude-inspired blow-out. “I’m hungry, too. So, you eat one and then I’ll eat one, then you, then me. Yeah?”

She considers. Every part of me hurts.

Tate had played this game once upon a time with Owen. My baby boy is growing up so fast into a very, very good man.

Refusing to look at me, Mabel gives her brother a single curt nod. “Okay.”

They disappear into the kitchen, and I sink into the wall. I will not cry. I will not fall apart.

But I do stay against the wall, listening as Mabel relinquishes her pout to giggle with her brother. At the feel of a warm body stroking mine, I glance down to see Milo. My nine-year-old Siamese looking up at me through the bluest eyes. He gives a chirpy meow that I know means, ‘come to bed’ and begins his strut for the stairs.

“Soon,” I promise him. Then, because I haven’t been mauled by doggy kisses, I shove my feet back into my shoes and call to the kids, “Grabbing Duke from Memaw’s. Be back in five.”

“Okay,” Owen calls back.

Mom and Dad live across the street, which has been unbelievably helpful over the years, but especially helpful the last fourteen months. Tate’s parents gifted us their house when Owen was three, and we’ve been here ever since.

Mom has a tendency to steal Duke when I’m at work. Sometimes, she takes him into Foster’s Gear and Guides and will drop him off when she’s home. But since her car in is the drive, I know she’s home.

I give a light knock and walk right in. Duke yaps from where he’s undoubtedly being fed something from the counter in the kitchen. Nails click on the floor, his booty wagging with his tail as he sees me.

I crouch low to pick up my dog. As long as he’s hanging with my mom, he’s going to remain pudgy.

I pad into the kitchen and see mom looking not even a little guilty as she slices sausage, I know for a fact Duke has indulged in. “Thanks for grabbing him.”

“Oh, it’s no hardship. I love Duke.”

“You should get yourself a dog.”

She looks horrified. “And betray Duke?”

I reach for a piece of sausage, popping it into my mouth even as Duke’s nose starts to search. “You’ve had enough.” I tap his nose with the tip of my finger. “I think Duke would like a friend.”

“Maybe you need another dog.”

I groan. “The last thing I need is another living creature to take care of. I’m struggling with the zoo I have.”