She rolled her eyes.That didn’t matter. She could get home at any time. Before she could respond with something along those lines, Mack messaged again.
Mack:Find a sitter. I might have some recommendations. We’re going out.
She shookher head then typed out an irritated response.
Lacey:As much as I adore being bossed around, I can’t tonight. Bridger is sick.
His response was immediate.
Mack:Is he okay? Is there anything I can do?”
For a split second,her heart warmed at the message. As she read over the words, she found her heart aching. It would be so nice to share the burden of caring for a sick child with someone else. What she wouldn’t give to have someone she could trust to fill that role, knowing he wouldn’t be scared off or leave when he got bored of tending to her.
Then Lacey found her wits.
Lacey:He’ll be fine. Just a small fever and sore throat. We’re staying in and watching cartoons.
He didn’t respondafter that. Strange. It was easier than she’d thought it would be. With a disappointed sigh, she returned her phone to the counter. She shouldn’t be disappointed at all. She’d wanted him to leave her alone. And now that he knew what real life would look like with her, he’d finally figured out that it wasn’t worth it.
The sting hurt more than she cared to admit. But drowning in those feelings wasn’t important right now.
Her eyes strayed to her son where he was cuddled up with the gorilla watching a show already. She watched him for a full minute, and then she turned to gather up some applesauce and Gatorade. Hopefully he’d be able to keep it down. He hadn’t thrown up yet, but she wasn’t sure how far his illness would stretch.
One hour later,she was seated beside Bridger, her arm around him as he snuggled into her. His temperature had fluctuated between a low-grade fever to one a little higher, but with some children’s fever reducer, it had been manageable.
Mack still hadn’t messaged her, and she fluctuated between an obsessive need to be irritated and the relief from not having to fight him anymore.
Bridger had a small burst of energy after he’d taken a twenty-minute cat nap, and now he was happily eating the applesauce she’d dished up for him.
A knock at the door drew their attention, and she frowned while Bridger’s brows creased with confusion. “Who’s that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “No clue. You stay here, and I’ll get it.” Lacey ruffled his hair and offered a bright smile. Before she made it to the door, the person knocked again. “Ease up!” she called, “I’m coming.”
Without realizing what she was doing, she pulled the door open. She hadn’t even bothered to check who was on the other side. And she immediately regretted it.
Mack stood on her doormat, his arms full of two large paper bags. He peered at her over both of them, his cocky grin less infuriating than it should be.
“Who is it, Mom?” Bridger’s raspy voice called.
Lacey folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here, Mack? I told you?—”
“And I told you that I’m going to take you out.”
“I can’t go out. Bridger is sick.”
“That’s why I came to you.” He pushed past her, surprising her enough that she stumbled back a step. He chuckled, tossing his grin over his shoulder while she gaped at him. “You might want to shut that door so you don’t let in any bugs. Mosquitos are bad this time of year.”
She lurched for the door and shut it before she charged after him.
“Mack!” Bridger sat up straighter on the couch. “What are you doing here?”
Well, there went her plan of kicking him out. The second Bridger saw him, she lost all opportunity to do just that.
Dang it.
Mack gave Bridger one of his charming grins. “Hey, buddy. I heard you didn’t feel well. I brought you some stuff.”
Just like that, Bridger’s eyes widened with excitement. “You did?”
