Tame the Beast : Small Beach Town, Single Mom Romance

Joydon’tpissmeofflevine: Zoe is fine. Whatever you are thinking, stop it right this second.

CookieJ: Oooo, you guys I have the perfect idea!

Joydon’tpissmeofflevine: Mom what did I just say a second ago? None of your ideas are perfect.

CookieJ: Shush, yeh ungrateful daughter of mine and remember who you have to thank for that sexy husband of yours.

Tinyhousebigheart: Mama J, trust me, I am grateful for the both of us.

Joydon’tpissmeofflevine: Traitor @tinyhousebigheart, next time there is a spider in the house I am not killing it for you.

Toughtolove: How many times do I have to remind you all that the sexting chat happens on Wednesdays.

Joydon’tpissmeofflevine: We are NOT sexting. I was threatening him.

Toughtolove: Your form of foreplay is none of my business.

Toughtolove: Snickers, tell us that plan of yours.

17

Matteo

“Any man can help make a child, but it takes a special man to help raise a child.” – Tony Gaskins

Iwatch as my mom walks into LPs, wearing a happy, dopey smile after she went to see my girls.

Jesus Christ! It’s been three damn weeks of trying to kick those words out of my head. Every day I’ve been convincing myself there are no “my girls.” I even took to repeating it in front of a mirror every morning and night, followed by a pep talk that I’m too young and free to want that.

That I love my one-night stands and that any day now I will jump back into the game.

If only I actually believed a word out of my mouth, it would be great.

But not only do I not believe it, I also started being jealous of my own mother who got to spend time with Zoe and Mellie. Became a scowling prick that patrons started to avoid and to top it all off, completely and utterly uninterested in anyone who’s name is not Zoe, is not a curvy blonde with dark eyes and who doesn’t have the most perfect daughter in the world.

Yeah…I’m fucked. And I don’t have a damn clue what to do with that.

It’s not like I can just walk up to her front door, knock, and say what? Can I have a play date with you and your kid? How about a sleepover, I can take the floor? Take me back, I promise, I’m potty trained?

Jesus, Matteo, you are totally losing it, aren’t you?

“Hey, son.”

“Hey,” I greet her without looking up from the glass I’ve been cleaning for the past two hours since I found out where my mom was headed and was not able to concentrate on anything at all.

“That must be the cleanest glass we have.” Mom smirks at me.

“Just taking care of our bar.” Her smirk vanishes, replaced by a scowl she’s been wearing ever since I walked out from the hospital.

“When you should be taking care of something completely different,” she says under her breath, but I still catch it. “I went to see Zoe,” she says louder, making sure I hear. As if I’d ever miss that name being called out.

My ears seem to be trained to it.

See what a good dog I’d make?

“Great.”

“Mellie is so adorable.”