Chapter 6
After being home for a week, I had become friendly with the little girl next door. She was adorable, and just as Gareth Baxton was fading from my memory, his call jolted me back.
“Lovelyn Jones, it’s been a week. Enough with the drama. Come home and do the laundry; there’s a pile waiting for you. The house hasn’t been cleaned in a week and it’s
a mess.”
I listened quietly until he finished, then let out a cold laugh. “All of that is waiting for me to do?”
Gareth Baxton confidently replied, “Of course, I’ve never done those things and ! don’t know how to. Besides, they’re your
Chapter 6
responsibility.”
“Hurry back, Noah Baxton says he’s craving your ribs. Without you, we’ve been stuck eating takeout every day, and we’re sick of it.”
I reminded him, “Have you signed the divorce papers? We should find time to finalize the process.”
He was taken aback. “Stop threatening me with divorce. What’s the point?”
I chuckled softly, “Call me when you’re ready to go through with it.”
Before half a day passed, Daisy Morgan called me. Her voice was earnest over the phone, “Sis Lyn, have you misunderstood the situation between me and Gareth? He’s just being kind and helping me out, don’t overthink it.”
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“You have to know, even though he treats me well, his heart is with you.”
Her attempt to justify things amused me. In the past, I might have been angry and argued with her, but now, I didn’t care. I hung up with a smile, and surprisingly, I even found the time to help the little girl with her homework.
She’s six this year, having just started first grade, and as I watched her carefully form each letter, my heart felt strangely at peace.
I also found something to occupy myself- practicing painting. With each completed page, my mind grew calmer.
Two days later, Gareth Baxton showed up with Noah Baxton while I was teaching the little girl how to draw.
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Gareth Baxton stood in front of me, looking haggard, and called out, “Lyn.”
I couldn’t even remember the last time I heard him call me that, but I was no longer the fool who’d lose sleep over a single word from him.
Noah Baxton awkwardly chimed in, “Mom.”
I calmly glanced at the two of them. Noah’s clothes were wrinkled, probably hadn’t been washed in a while.
With just a quick look, I shifted my attention back to the little girl. Gently, I advised her, “This part can be a bit rounder, that way it’ll look more lively.”
The little girl cheerfully exclaimed, “Mommy Jones, you’re so smart!”
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I patted her head. One day, after I braided her hair, she had quietly asked, “Can you be my mommy? My mom doesn’t want me anymore.”
There was a mature air about this little child that made my heart ache, so I agreed she could call me “Mommy Jones.”
However, as soon as the words left her mouth, Noah Baxton, like a stubborn calf, shoved her aside. I hurried to help the little girl up, dusting her off to check that she wasn’t hurt.
Noah, beside himself with tears, cried out, “She’s my mom, not yours!”
Then he tried to grab my hand, pleading, “Mom, don’t pay attention to her, I’m your son!”
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I shook his hand off coldly, looking at him with irritation. “Apologize!”
Noah stared at me in disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend it.
I repeated, “Apologize. Or leave now!”
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