Goalie (Texas Mutiny Book 3) Page 4

  While I set up the coffee maker and dispose of the old one, all three of my girls work together to get Theo’s backpack ready for our day out. I love hearing Mari call out directions and the girls finding what she’s asking for. They treat it like their own little scavenger hunt.

  I miss hearing these sounds every day.

  By the time the backpack is filled with everything he could potentially need, it probably weighs about twenty pounds. I always used to joke with Mari that she packed too much stuff anytime we went anywhere. But we also were always prepared for anything. Never once did we get in a situation with any of the kids where we didn’t have what we needed. It’s just one of the ways she’s the best mom in the world.

  “Look who just woke up.” I turn to see Theo laying on Mari’s shoulder, eyes still groggy with sleep.

  “Hey, my man.” I rub on his back and his face breaks out into a grin. “You wanna go with us to see the animals?”

  He snuggles in closer to Mari as I just stand there, still rubbing his back as he wakes up. It’s the closest I’ve been to my wife in months and I let myself feel content, knowing the moment will disappear before long.

  Sure enough, Theo decides he’s ready for the day and pops his head off her shoulder.

  “You ready to get dressed and go bye-bye with Daddy?” At her words, he turns and waves at me, making us laugh.

  “Close enough, dude. We’ll wave bye-bye to Mommy in a minute.”

  Within minutes, I have the diaper bag and all three kids in my arms and ready to go.

  “You sure you don’t want to go with us?” I ask Mari, as the girls race out the door. “Girls! Stay on this sidewalk!” They groan, but comply.

  Mari gives me a sad smile. “Thanks, but no. This is your time with them. Have fun.”

  I nod and give my own sad smile back before turning away. I hear the door shut behind me and take a deep breath. I may have lost my wife, but I will not be one of those dads that stops visiting his kids because it’s too hard to be around their mother.

  And maybe, just maybe someday I’ll convince Mari that it’s not too hard to be around me either.

  “No really, Mom. We’re doing fine.” I plop myself down on the couch and prop my feet up on the coffee table. “Theo is sleeping better, and since we don’t have a lot of team functions to go to, things have really slowed down.”

  “I know,” my mom complains through the phone. “It just feels weird to not be there every month to help out. I kind of miss it.”

  I smile. My mom has tried really hard to not overwhelm me since the separation, and I love her for it. As much as it’s uncomfortable, I need to figure out how to be a single mom on my own.

  Santos provides well—really well. But I never expected anything less from him. He was born to be a father. Frankly, he was born to be a husband, too. He really is the best husband.

  Except for the whole sleeping with anyone on two legs thing. That’s just not something any spouse can come back from.

  “Mom, you are welcome to come anytime. You know that.”

  She sighs. “So you don’t mind if I come stay next month? It doesn’t even have to be a full week. A weekend is all I need to get my fix of my grandbabies.”

  “You can stay as long as you want.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  She giggles. “Ok, ok. I’ll look at my schedule and get back with you about when a good time is for both of us. I still wish you would just move home.”

  I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. “I know, I know. But I’m not going to take Santos’s kids that far away from him.”

  “I get that you want to keep this amicable, Mari.” I brace myself. This isn’t the first discussion we’ve had about her hatred of my soon-to-be ex-husband. “And you are absolutely right. But there is a part of me that wants you to keep the kids from him so badly because of how he hurt you.”

  “Mom….”

  “I know it’s not right,” she continues. “And I know you wouldn’t do that because you are doing what’s right for your babies. But you’re my baby. And I just want to hurt the person who hurt you.”

  I smile. She means well. My mom doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. But she loved Santos like her own son, so she feels betrayed by him, too. I try to remind myself that if someone hurt one of my kids this deeply, I’d feel the same way as she does. That doesn’t mean I want to talk about it, though.

  “I know, Mom. Do you feel better now that you said it out loud?”

  “I do. Thank you for letting me get it off my chest.”

  I shake my head at her ridiculousness. “Well let me know what weekend you decide to come. It’s not like we’re doing a lot around here, but I’ll make sure it coordinates with the game schedule so you get to see the kids as much as possible.”

  “Ok, baby. I’ll get back to you this week sometime.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone onto the couch next to me, looking around the room.

  It’s quiet when Santos has the kids. Almost too quiet. And there’s nothing to do. I’ve deep cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom. I’ve done four loads of laundry and put it all away. I even threw dinner in the crockpot already, so my regular chores are done.

  I tap my fingers on my leg and the Kindle shoved between couch cushions catches my eye. Ooh. I could read for a bit.

  What is the name of that author I like? The one who writes about all those bearded brothers? Penelope Reads? Penny Reads? Penny Reid! That’s it!

  I search through the books for sale and find what I’m looking for, hoping to get lost in the world of beards, motorcycles, and some strange character named Cletus.

  Ten minutes later, I give up. It’s not that I’m not entertained, I just can’t get my brain to stop thinking about what Marcus said the other day.

  I need to get myself out there. I need to give myself a reason to pull myself together. One step at a time.

  My phone alerts me of a text, and I smile when I see it’s Marcus.

  Marcus: Create the account. I totally met Tripp on Bumble.

  Me: I thought you hated Tripp.

  Marcus: I do now. But I still had a glorious three months with him before he became a pompous asshole.

  Me: You are not making a good case for this.

  Marcus: No one says you need long term. A glorious three months would do you some good.

  I roll my eyes. But dammit, he’s right.

  “Fine!” I say aloud to myself. “I’ll get a damn Bumble account.”

  Me: Fine! I’ll get a damn Bumble account.

  Marcus: YAY! Keep me updated.

  Huffing in frustration, and because I need to do this quickly before I lose my courage, I grab my phone and pull up the app store. It only takes a couple of minutes to download it onto my phone. That’s the easy part. Making a stay-at-home mom with three small children sound interesting on a dating app… that’s the hard part.

  First things first, I find a random selfie I took to upload as my profile picture. The kids are in the background, but once they’re cropped out, it’s not terrible. I won’t be winning Miss Photogenic any time soon because of it, but it’ll serve its purpose.

  Now for information about me.

  32 years old. Three kids. Hobbies…

  I look out the back window in thought. I have no idea what my hobbies are. If I did, I’d being doing them instead of doing this right now. What did I like doing before I had kids? Hmm. I liked skiing, but I haven’t done that in years. I liked going hiking and taking pictures of nature. I guess I still like doing that.

  Ok, moving on. What I’m looking for in a partner. If I’m being honest, I want another Santos, just a faithful one. I snort a laugh to myself.

  “Good luck with that,” I murmur.

  I guess 30-40 years old is ok. Divorced, widowed, or never married works. Non-smoker. Ugh. This is way more detailed than I expected.

  Twenty minutes go b
y. Twenty minutes of trying to put together my ideal man on a stupid phone app, and I can’t think of anyone better than my husband. But I push through because I’m tired of sitting in yoga pants and being stagnant in my life.

  Plus, I’m lonely. And not just feeling alone. A bone-deep, soul-crushing loneliness that puts me in tears whenever I think about it. There is a possibility I will never be kissed again in my whole life. Never be spooned in the middle of the night. Never connect with anyone intimately. My entire life, for the rest of my life, may just be me. Raising my kids until they’re gone and I’m not just lonely, but I’m actually alone.

  I feel myself falling deeper into that pit of despair that sucks me in sometimes. Suddenly the screen in front of me is blurry, and I have to wipe the tears off my cheeks as they fall.

  I miss Santos so much I can hardly take it. I miss the way he always has a smile on his face. I miss the way he sings off key in the shower. I miss the way he would smack my ass on his way out the door and say “I love that this is mine.” I miss his smell, and his voice, and his presence.

  I miss my life with him, and I’m so pissed off that he did this to us. That he ruined everything. That he took the most important thing in the world to me and obliterated it with his dick.

  Taking a deep breath, I push the tears back down where they belong. “I deserve to be respected,” I say out loud. “I demand respect. He didn’t respect me, and that’s not good enough.”

  I spend another ten minutes answering the most random questions as honestly as possible until I’m officially a Bumble member. As potential connections start popping up, I scroll through the pictures until I find someone interesting.

  Thirty-five years old. Divorced father of two. Non-smoker. Catholic. Not a professional athlete for a living.

  I snort at my glee over connecting with a white-collar worker.

  Taking a deep breath, I click “send a message.”

  Here goes nothing.

  I love taking my kids to the zoo. Watching their little faces light up when we see their favorite animals is truly one of the small joys in life.

  Myra loves the elephants. She could stay here all day watching them lumber around and play. Her giggles when they roll around in mud make everyone else giggle.

  Lina, on the other hand, loves the lions. Today, we got lucky. There’s been a lion leaning right up against the glass in the downstairs part of the enclosure. Myra won’t go near him, but Lina keeps looking at him with her hand on the glass like she wants to pet him. She is so intrigued. The pictures of her face right next to the lion’s turn out amazing. I can’t wait to show Mari.

  But the funniest part of the day is the orangutans. There is only one who ventures into the outdoor part of the enclosure today. A female who, according to the information card, has never had a baby but really wants one. As soon as we strolled up to the window, she sees Theo’s stroller and lumbers her way our direction. With his spiky black hair, I’m pretty sure she thinks he is one of her kind. After a few minutes of her trying to see inside the stroller, I push it right up to the window.

  It’s obvious, she is fascinated by him. Much to the delight of the girls and all the other patrons, she keeps turning flips and patting the window trying to get his attention. When she finally accomplishes her goal, Theo takes one look at her and screams his head off.

  On the one hand, it’s really funny. On the other, it’s quite sad. The poor orangutan backs away and still tries to entertain him, but not as aggressively. She finally gives up and slinks away.

  While it was the most fascinating interaction with an animal I’ve ever seen, it also makes me think about the emotions a mother must have when it comes to her children. How she’d do anything for them. Entertain them. Take care of them. And even back away from them, despite their own feelings, if it was in the child’s best interest.

  It just makes me appreciate Mari even more. I know it must be hard for her to see me all the time, but she does it anyway for the kids’ well-being.

  “Ok guys. We have a long drive home,” I remind them. “We need to make a potty break before we go.” As I stroll up to the public restrooms, I realize I haven’t thought this out very well. Mari has always taken the girls to the restroom in public, and it has never occurred to me to come up with a game plan for when I’m on my own. Looking back and forth between the men’s and women’s restrooms, there’s only one thing I can do.

  “Alright girls, come stand in front of me.” They both squeeze their way in between me and the stroller. “Now close your eyes and put your head down.” They giggle and comply. “Here we go.”

  We push into the men’s room, a large clump of people shuffling our way through the room with me continually saying things like “don’t look, girls,” “keep your head down,” and “almost there”. More than one man looks over his shoulder from the urinal and seem shocked by my girls walking by. Except for one guy who has his hand over a little girl’s eyes while she tries to wash her hands without being able to see. That guy doesn’t even notice us.

  It takes a few minutes to get everyone pottied and changed. Thank God whoever is in charge here had the foresight to put a baby changing table and a sink inside the handicapped stall. And thank God no one with a disability is in here right now. I’m not sure why every single stall isn’t outfitted like this at a place that caters to kids. Seems like it would make it easier for any parent with small children.

  As I finish disposing of Theo’s diaper and get his pants back on, the girls buzz around the stall. Literally. I almost ask why they’re pretending to be bees after seeing all the different animals today, but I don’t get the chance before Myra slips on a wet part of the floor and ends up on her back in a puddle.

  She doesn’t cry, but the look on her face kind of mirrors mine of totally disbelief. There is no telling what that is a puddle of.

  “You’ll be fine, Myra,” I say, as I secure Theo in his stroller. “Stand up and don’t touch anything.” I dig through the diaper bag and find what I’m looking for. Sure enough, Mari packed an extra pair of clothes for each of the girls.

  “I’m wet, Daddy,” Myra whimpers with wide eyes.

  “I know, baby. But we’re gonna get you all fixed up. Your mommy packed you some extra clothes.”

  We get her changed and of course Lina has to change clothes, too. Everything big sister does, she has to do as well. Finally, we make our way back out of the restroom, through the parking lot, and to the car. I never expected a potty break could end up taking over twenty minutes.

  We hit the road and the buzzing and giggling begins again.

  “Girls, why are we acting like bumblebees today?” I ask, as we follow the line of traffic to the main roads.

  “Mommy is gonna be a bumblebee!” Myra yells, Lina laughing a big belly laugh at her sister’s outburst.

  “Yeah, Mommy is a bee,” Lina replies. Theo apparently wants to get in on the fun and squeals with delight.

  Smiling, I peek at them in the rear-view mirror, still having no idea what they’re talking about.

  “What do you mean Mommy is gonna be a bumblebee?”

  “She’s getting a bumblebee account!” Myra yells, and Lina continues to laugh.

  A bumblebee account? What is a bumblebee… suddenly it hits me what they’re talking about.

  Son of a fucking bitch. Mari is dating. She’s getting a Bumble account and is fucking dating.

  The rage runs through me as I think of what her dating means. She’s so fucking beautiful. She’s kind. She’s generous. She’s always putting others before herself. And some other asshole is going to see how great she is and sweep her off her feet.

  I realize I’m stepping on the gas a little too hard and back my foot off. I’m so angry, but my kids are still in the car. I won’t put them in danger.

  Even if my heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest.

  When we get to the apartment, I make a decision. I can’t talk to Mari about this. First of all, I don
’t know if it’s true. Second, with how angry she still is at me, there is no way that conversation will go well. I don’t want to fight with her about it in front of the kids. I want to grab her phone and smash it to pieces, but I won’t do that either.

  I knock once on the apartment door and the girls throw it open, barreling their way inside as they chatter about their day.

  Mari greets them with a smile and tries to keep up with the conversation, responding appropriately whenever she can. She’s so beautiful when she smiles at them. Just watching her quells a lot of my anger. Mari’s always had that effect on me.

  She looks up and catches my eye, noticing Theo asleep on my shoulder.

  “Oh! How long has he been out?”

  “He just fell asleep as I was pulling into the parking lot. It’s the first he’s slept all day.”

  She reaches for him. “I can go put him down.”

  “No, it’s ok. I can put him down. Which room is he in?”

  She blinks at me. I think she realizes that I’ve never seen where the kids sleep and it’s just as jarring to her as the thought is to me.

  “Um… the one at the very end of the hall. Straight ahead.”

  “Ok. I’ll be right back. Don’t let the girls fool you. They snacked a bit, but they didn’t actually have lunch.”

  “Well let’s go make some sandwiches,” I hear her say as I walk down the hall. I find the crib easily enough, but when I walk in the room, my breath hitches when I see the queen-sized bed on the opposite wall. The bed is a mess, and it’s obvious she still doesn’t make it in the morning.

  A longing like I haven’t felt in a while consumes me. I want so badly to climb in it with her and just hold her, feel her snuggle up next to me and smell her all around me. I want to curve my body around hers and put my hand over her stomach, the stomach where my children lived before they were born. I want her scent all around me and her breath in my ear in the mornings. I want her.

  Admittedly, I haven’t been exactly celibate since Mari left me. I tried to stay away from other women at first, but a few times after I’d had a drink or two, I slipped up. Thing is, at the beginning of each encounter, it seemed almost normal. As soon as the orgasm would fade, though, the hatred for myself would kick in. Eventually, even a few drinks couldn’t make sex worth it.