The Summer I Saved You (The Summer #2)(58)

I’m tempted to hang up. He didn’t care for six years, but he suddenly cares now? “Because she never told me I was supposed to read it to her,” I snap. “I’m not psychic, Jeremy. If they don’t tell me and the school doesn’t either, I don’t know.”

“You were also late on May third and didn’t send them in with the posterboard they needed last week.”

My jaw falls and my hands start to shake—with anger, with shock. Jeremy is compiling a list of every minor failing to make me look like a bad parent and the school is helping him do it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the kids are out of hearing distance. “I’m essentially a single parent, Jeremy. Shit’s gonna fall through the cracks occasionally. You’d realize that if you’d ever lifted a fucking finger.”

“Why are you so angry, Lucie?” he asks. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

I slap a hand to my forehead. “Because…” And then I stop. This is ridiculous. The twins need me to help them with their history posters and they still need baths and I’m just not doing this with Jeremy tonight. “I don’t have time for this shit,” I tell him, hanging up the phone.

Within a minute, there’s a text from Molly.

MOLLY

Are you okay?



Of course. Why?





I just got this weird call from Jeremy. He said you were drunk or possibly had taken something and he wasn’t sure the kids were safe.



I stare at the words. Is this his next move? To tell enough people that I’m an unfit mother and create a paper trail to support it? I haven’t even replied before my mother calls.

“Hi, Mom,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I’ve got to do something with the twins, so this isn’t a great time.”

“Are you drunk?” she asks. “Jeremy said you were drunk.”

I press a hand over my face to hold in a scream.



I’VE HAD VERY little sleep when I get up in the morning. I was awake for hours last night, considering what I will say to the school. Legally, I assume they’ve done nothing wrong. Except these are such minor points, they shouldn’t have merited so much as a mention.

I normally drop the twins off in front to let the patrols walk them in, but today we park. I still haven’t come up with what I’ll say to Mrs. Kroesinger when I find her, but I am definitely saying something, and it’ll probably just make things worse.

Henry’s hand slips into mine. “Are you staying?” he asks, and that tiny hopeful note in his voice breaks my heart. I wish I could stay. I wish I could spend the whole day making sure he had someone to play with and was getting the help he needed. If I’d known how powerless it could feel to be a parent, I might have been too terrified to undertake it and Caleb’s only experience of being a parent is the heartbreak, the powerlessness, the guilt. No wonder he’s scared.

“Not today, sugar. I need to talk to your teacher for a second.”

I grab Sophie with my other hand, and we walk up to the school, past the yoga moms, whose conversation comes to a halt as we pass, their gazes sweeping over my dress and heels. It’s probably one of them who told her husband I’m putting on a show and perhaps she’ll come home with another story tonight.

We’ve just stepped into the lobby when Jeremy emerges from the school’s office with the principal and Mrs. Kroesinger, whose eyes go wide and guilty at the sight of us before her jaw sets and her face hardens.

My mouth is open, but no words emerge.

They just had a meeting without me, about my children.

“Did I miss an email?” I ask, my voice shaking and barely civil, my palms sweaty against the twins’. “I didn’t realize there was a meeting.”

Jeremy and Mrs. Kroesinger exchange a smug, knowing glance. “No meeting,” says Jeremy. “I wanted to address some concerns.”

What do I even say? These three people have just met, probably to discuss what a terrible parent I am, so do I throw a fit in front of my children to prove I’m the better parent? Do I make threats I’m not sure I can back up?

The principal gives me a firm, chilly smile. “I need to get going. Good to see you, Jeremy. Mrs. Kroesinger, perhaps the twins can walk back to class with you?”

Everyone disperses and Jeremy looks me up and down. “I assume you’re the most lowly employee at TSG, based on the outfit.”

It barely makes a dent. I’m still stuck on the earlier statement. “What concerns?” I finally ask.

“I simply wanted them to understand that our households operate differently, and that the twins may be struggling more when they’re staying with you.”

“What households?” I ask. “They always stay with me.”

He allows himself a small chuckle. “That’s going to have to change too, since you appear not to be up to the job.”

He walks away, stopping to talk to the yoga moms on his way to the car. They greet him with smiles and stare me down as I walk past.

My mother would have told them off, and I’d have been absolutely horrified, but now I sort of get it.

It’s tiresome, being the designated punching bag every fucking day. You start wanting to show them you can hit back.