Something unpleasant slid through me. And after yesterday, baking the pie for Joker, having him set it aside like it meant nothing, the call from Tory, my son being sick, my mortification in front of five people I didn’t know (and Joker) caused by me shrieking like a lunatic, breaking down in front of three women I also did not know, all that Aaron was doing to me, I didn’t cry (again). I didn’t feel mortified (again).

I got mad.

There was nothing I could do about that mad. Not right then. I had to get to work.

And I was hoping Travis would feel well enough that Tory could bring him in to see me.

After that, I’d do something about that mad.

Definitely.

* * *

Four hours later, Tory did bring Travis. I was at my register and I saw them come in.

My heart leaped. My boy looked pale but he also looked right to me, stretched his arms my way, and screeched (hoarsely).

He wanted his momma.

My heart warmed as my throat tickled.

My manager, Sharon, who was lovely and who also knew about Travis being sick (and some about Aaron being a jerk), let me finish with my customer and take my lunch.

My grocery store was LeLane’s. It was a gourmet food market. It had all the things normal stores had, like mustard and sour cream, but they were much more expensive. It also had a bunch of other stuff normal stores didn’t have, like live lobsters, a cheese case that would make any Frenchman sigh with delight (I guessed, I’d never met a Frenchman), and the like. They had six of them in the Denver area, one in Boulder, one in Fort Collins, two in Colorado Springs, and two in Pueblo.

It was family owned. They took care of their customers and employees, and they did the latter by giving great benefits, being nice about when you took your hours (for instance, they did their best to let me work days when I had Travis so I didn’t have to pay extra for after-hours daycare), and they paid relatively well.

But they were expensive. They also had employee discounts, but I didn’t use them. Unless Travis was consuming it, I went generic all the way.

Tory, however, didn’t blink at shopping at LeLane’s. Which was what she did to pass her time while I fed my boy and spent time with him in the break room.

When my thirty minutes was up, I hid my despair from my son and trudged out.

Tory was waiting for me by her Mercedes.

“Can I strap him in?” I asked.

She nodded and moved away from the passenger side door, but did it opening it for me.

I put him in, gave him tickles, made him giggle, then kissed him right on his wet, open lips.

That made him grab my hair.