Remy

Over the next few weeks, their alone time was sporadic due to their respective work schedules and baseball season ramping up. Their time together consisted mostly of canoodling after Elliot was asleep, or impromptu office picnics at his school during his lunch period. And more phone sex than you could shake a stick at.

Remy was beyond ready to feel Troy between her legs and all the way inside her, but for some reason, he was drawing it out.

She liked it, on one hand. It was a delicious yearning she felt. The need was in her head and had her entire body buzzing almost 24 hours a day. On the other hand, she was having trouble focusing on her work. On the other-other hand, it felt nice to be wanted as a person and not just for her body. On the other-other-other hand, she was really fucking frustrated and horny.

She knew what he was doing. He was wooing her. Every day he was doing really kind things for her.

The morning after their skinny-dipping date, she noticed her car had been washed, waxed and detailed.

The rest of the week had brought single white daisies on her doorstep every morning and a fresh flavored coffee from Hawk’s Diner, which made the best coffee in town. Her lopsided mailbox was mysteriously fixed, a broken railing on the stairs on her front stoop was repaired. Their grass was getting cut weekly. She knew better than to give credit to her landlord for finally getting shit done. No, Remy and Elliot apparently had a big ol’ elf visiting in the wee hours.

The morning of Elliot’s final playoff game, there arrived a large basket full of all the carbohydrates known to man, delivered by Hawk himself. “If you want my advice, don’t marry him.”

That was not the advice she was expecting, although who expects advice from a delivery guy, or the guy sponsoring your kid’s youth league team? “Why not?” she asked, more curious than put off.

“Because I would love it if he kept this up a while longer. He’s keeping me in business all spring and half the summer. After you get married, that’s it. No more croissants from him. I guarantee it.”

“No more croissants?” She took the basket and smelled the most heavenly scent of bread ever.

“Mark my words,” he said with a smirk, refusing her tip.

Over a breakfast of carbs slathered in all the other goodies from the basket—homemade pepper jellies and goat cheeses from the Clays’ Morning Glory Farms—Remy could feel her son watching her closely.

Finally, she asked him why.

“I like him and I think he really likes you. You should date him.”

“Elliot, honey, I kind of am.”

He nodded casual approval.

“You’re not mad?”

“What do you want me to say, you want me to be all after school special and upset and embarrassed? I’m just happy you seem happy.”

She laughed. “How do you know about after school specials? It’s not even a thing that gets made anymore.”

He rolled his eyes. “1980s nostalgia on YouTube, Mother. Learn it. Live it. Love it.”

“It wasn’t even a thing when I was in high school. The things you enjoy watching truly worries me sometimes.”

“I have more time on my hands, thanks to you canceling lessons with the douche.”

“Sweetie, I never canceled with Rodney. I honestly completely forgot about lessons as soon as I started dating Troy. He kind of makes me forget about a lot of things.”

As she munched on a bagel, she stared at Elliot. She swore he’d grown an inch over the season. Elliot stared back at her.

“Mom, I don’t know what’s going on with you. But I like it.”

Maybe Troy mellowing on the whole subject of Elliot and his pitching arm had made Remy mellow as well.

Well, she’d take that as a gift, along with everything else he’d been doing for her. Elliot was complaining less, and he was going to be pitching in the playoffs. That was hands-down the best part.

But later at the game, Remy was tense all over again. She thought she’d been transformed into the chilled-out mom. But the truth was she was downright anxious while watching a game with this much at stake. Tiger Mom was back.

In fact, Tiger Mom completely took over when the referee called a runner trying to steal third safe when he was clearly out. Elliot had been perfecting his base throwing, thanks to Coach Troy, and he’d whipped it over to the third baseman just in time, it seemed to her. But not actually in time, according to the referee.

A couple of the other team parents next to her in the stands booed. They saw it. Before she could stop herself, she was out of the bleachers and standing up against the chain-link fence, shouting.

“No way, ref! That kid was out! Did you even see that? He was definitely out!”

Elliot looked chagrined at her, all the players and spectators were staring at her, but she was firing on all cylinders and kept going.

The referee called time out and walked over to face her across the fence, along with Troy.

“You can’t do that here. This is youth league. You can’t talk to the ref, you know that, Mrs. Dawson.” He called her Mrs. Dawson like they had not made out in the dugout twelve times on this very field.

She ignored Troy. “Come on, ref, that was a ridiculous call.”

Troy persisted. “It’s not your concern. I’m doing my job, let the ref do his job. Go sit down or you can leave.”

“You can’t kick me out, Troy.”

“No? Watch me.”

And Remy was indeed removed from the game. In front of everyone. By her supposed boyfriend.

As he physically escorted her away from the field toward the parking lot, she yanked her arm away from his grip. “I had you pegged from the beginning. You don’t care about winning, and now I know why. Because you’re scared of the pressure. You’re afraid you’re going to choke. The same reason you gave up playing ball. Yes, I heard the whole story from you the other night.”

She regretted all of it the second it was out of her mouth.

Troy said nothing. Just walked away.

Devastated, Remy watching the rest of the winning game from her car.

This might be a good time for a cigarette, but she didn’t smoke. But that’s not what she needed at all. The shame started to sink in. She had let her emotions take over again and embarrassed herself and her son, and possibly Troy. What have you done?

She needed something to calm her nerves, but the one thing that did seem to calm her nerves at the moment was busy coaching her son, and oh yeah, kicking her out of the stands.

And now her son was headed to the league’s World Series, so she couldn’t just hide under a rock for the rest of the summer out of embarrassment.

Dammit. You need to fix this.