Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 111

Another chore.

Another mom dilemma where I have to pretend I'm a shining example of a human being and not an immature gremlin.

Another cute, stinging moment alone.

What else is new? Rinse and repeat.

"I love pancakes," Arlo tells me, like I'm not well aware. They're at the top of the list for bribing him to start a good day, up there with pizza and ice cream. "Are you gonna make them now, Mommy? Can we have banana and choc-lit chip?"

"First, I need to clean up the mess you've made. Then we'll see."

He has the grace to look a little ashamed, but he perks up quickly. "That won't take you long."

No, it won't, but it sure as heck would go faster with another person here to ease the burden.

I hate these thoughts.

I hate my brain for having them.

Just like I hate the way I'm constantly comparing my past mistakes to Patton's life on a gold pedestal.

Deep down, I don't think I'm worthy.

And I also have the awareness to know I'm not because I'm the only one thinking it. The Rorys were incredibly nice to me, or else money taught them to hide their mean streak way better than my parents ever did.

Still.

It feels like it can't last.

Someone or something has to come along the minute I'm settled in and burst the bubble—and there's a good possibility that something is me.

It's not like I'm new to self-sabotage.

"Where's my tablet? I can't find it!" Arlo asks loudly as I wipe down the chair leg and catch the last milk splattering the floor.

"I don't know, sweetie."

"Help find it, Mommy. Please?" The please is tacked on as a question, but at least it's there. That took long enough to get him to memorize.

"I can't do both right now. I only have two hands," I tell him. "Have you checked under your bed?"

While Arlo pops up and zooms around the house, searching high and low, I get started on the pancakes. I really hope the tablet turns up. He'll be sad and bored out of his wits for days if it doesn't.

If Patton was here, he'd help with the cooking or the tablet hunt, I'm sure.

Instead, I'm tripping over my son and his zoomies while I crack eggs into a bowl.

"Don't worry, Mommy. You're better than ten dads. I don't care."

Yeah, I think that spilled milk from earlier has nothing on my heart exploding.

"I love you, kiddo." I give him an impulsive hug he doesn't try to wiggle out of for once. "But it's okay to want a dad, too. I know the other boys at school have them."

"But I don't need a dad, Mom. It's okay if he's gone. I dunno." He's so calm, his voice light and easy. Unlike his mother, who's having a nervous breakdown over starting this conversation. "Are the pancakes almost done? The banana smell's making me hungry."

He sniffs the air like a starving raccoon.

Laughing, I try not to let my vision blur and heat the pan to start cooking. With all the emotional distractions, I added too many chocolate chips. But they're going to be good. My stomach growls right along with his.

I cook silently while Arlo hums to himself, drawing on his notepad. The instant they're done, he runs over and grabs the sprinkles from next to the stove.

"Thanks, Mommy!"

"Hey, hey, not too many! This is already like having dessert for breakfast." I wag a finger at him.

He laughs at me mischievously. "What if it's both?"

"You need breakfast before anything else. No arguments, young man," I say, cutting a banana into discs to throw on top.