Crazy Sweet Love: Contemporary Romance Novella, Clean Interracial Romantic Comedy (Flower Shop Romance Book 3) by Marisa Logan Page B
Authors: Marisa Logan
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to me, crossing her arms. “Separated parents,” she said.
“Ahh. The mom has custody?”
She nodded. “His father is still listed as authorized to pick him up, but I've spoken to his mother a few times, and she doesn't want TJ going to his father's place except on his visitation weekends. I'm not sure what to do.”
I wasn't sure what to suggest. I felt bad for the kid. I'd been in his shoes more than once in my childhood. There was this one mean little girl who used to call me “Bubble Butt.” To this day, I heard her voice when I looked at my butt in the mirror. It had always been far rounder than I would have liked, even if I had grown more comfortable with my body as I got older.
“He can stay here if he doesn't want to join the other kids,” I said. “And I've got some activity books I can give him to keep him occupied.”
“That might be best,” Mrs. Szabo said. “If you'll excuse me, I have some calls to make.”
I eventually coaxed TJ out from under the table. I brought him some railroad-themed coloring and activity books and a box of crayons. I sat with him and colored as well, to give him the sense that he wasn't alone.
I was putting the finishing touches on a rainbow-colored locomotive when Mrs. Szabo returned. “Well,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Looks like you're in luck, TJ. Your mom is in a meeting and is going to be out late. She said it was okay for your dad to come get you. He's on his way.”
TJ didn't answer, but I saw the tension fade from his posture. I could only wonder what was going on between his parents that made him hold such anxiety about the thought of being picked up by his mom. I hoped it wasn't an abusive situation. Though he didn't show any signs of having been physically harmed. More likely, I figured, Dad was just the lenient parent and Mom was the strict one.
It was more than an hour before TJ's dad made it to the museum. Though I was sure that was mostly because we were located in Western Pennsylvania, a good distance from Philadelphia and most of its surrounding suburbs. Most of the school groups that came to the museum took the bus in from an hour or more away. The rest of our guests tended to be families on vacations. We weren't far from Lancaster, which was right smack in the middle of Amish country. A lot of people either came out this way for trips to see the rustic countryside, or stopped by on road trips on their way further west.
The rest of the kids were finishing up the tour, and about to get on their buses to head back home, when TJ's dad walked in the door. He was younger than I expected, maybe in his mid-to-late twenties, making me wonder how old he'd been when TJ was born. He was tall and a little bit overweight, though he wore the weight well and looked comfortable with himself. He was dressed in simple jeans and a blue striped button-down shirt. I wondered whether he had come in from work, and if so, what kind of place he worked in where he could dress so casually.
He walked across the lobby, looking around at the tables filled with model trains driving around miniature models of Brandenburg. “Hi,” he said. “I'm Tom Conklin. I'm here to pick up my son, TJ.”
“Hi,” I said, extending my hand. He shook it, and I noticed his grip was firm, yet soft. “He's been hanging out in the employee break room. He was upset earlier, but he's doing fine now.”
“Do you know what happened? His teacher wasn't too clear on the phone.”
“I think it was some bullies,” I said. “He didn't want to talk about it, but it was pretty clear he wanted to keep away from the other kids. Which is a shame. He missed some of the best parts of the tour.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Thanks for your help. We've been...well, we've been going through a lot lately.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile. My parents had divorced when I wasn't much older than TJ, so I had an idea what he might be going through. Though it was a bit harder for me
“Ahh. The mom has custody?”
She nodded. “His father is still listed as authorized to pick him up, but I've spoken to his mother a few times, and she doesn't want TJ going to his father's place except on his visitation weekends. I'm not sure what to do.”
I wasn't sure what to suggest. I felt bad for the kid. I'd been in his shoes more than once in my childhood. There was this one mean little girl who used to call me “Bubble Butt.” To this day, I heard her voice when I looked at my butt in the mirror. It had always been far rounder than I would have liked, even if I had grown more comfortable with my body as I got older.
“He can stay here if he doesn't want to join the other kids,” I said. “And I've got some activity books I can give him to keep him occupied.”
“That might be best,” Mrs. Szabo said. “If you'll excuse me, I have some calls to make.”
I eventually coaxed TJ out from under the table. I brought him some railroad-themed coloring and activity books and a box of crayons. I sat with him and colored as well, to give him the sense that he wasn't alone.
I was putting the finishing touches on a rainbow-colored locomotive when Mrs. Szabo returned. “Well,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Looks like you're in luck, TJ. Your mom is in a meeting and is going to be out late. She said it was okay for your dad to come get you. He's on his way.”
TJ didn't answer, but I saw the tension fade from his posture. I could only wonder what was going on between his parents that made him hold such anxiety about the thought of being picked up by his mom. I hoped it wasn't an abusive situation. Though he didn't show any signs of having been physically harmed. More likely, I figured, Dad was just the lenient parent and Mom was the strict one.
It was more than an hour before TJ's dad made it to the museum. Though I was sure that was mostly because we were located in Western Pennsylvania, a good distance from Philadelphia and most of its surrounding suburbs. Most of the school groups that came to the museum took the bus in from an hour or more away. The rest of our guests tended to be families on vacations. We weren't far from Lancaster, which was right smack in the middle of Amish country. A lot of people either came out this way for trips to see the rustic countryside, or stopped by on road trips on their way further west.
The rest of the kids were finishing up the tour, and about to get on their buses to head back home, when TJ's dad walked in the door. He was younger than I expected, maybe in his mid-to-late twenties, making me wonder how old he'd been when TJ was born. He was tall and a little bit overweight, though he wore the weight well and looked comfortable with himself. He was dressed in simple jeans and a blue striped button-down shirt. I wondered whether he had come in from work, and if so, what kind of place he worked in where he could dress so casually.
He walked across the lobby, looking around at the tables filled with model trains driving around miniature models of Brandenburg. “Hi,” he said. “I'm Tom Conklin. I'm here to pick up my son, TJ.”
“Hi,” I said, extending my hand. He shook it, and I noticed his grip was firm, yet soft. “He's been hanging out in the employee break room. He was upset earlier, but he's doing fine now.”
“Do you know what happened? His teacher wasn't too clear on the phone.”
“I think it was some bullies,” I said. “He didn't want to talk about it, but it was pretty clear he wanted to keep away from the other kids. Which is a shame. He missed some of the best parts of the tour.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Thanks for your help. We've been...well, we've been going through a lot lately.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile. My parents had divorced when I wasn't much older than TJ, so I had an idea what he might be going through. Though it was a bit harder for me
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