Moms Night Out by Tricia Goyer Read Free Book Online Page B

“What?”
    “This.” She gazed around the room wistfully.
    Sean’s eyes followed her.
    “I wanted to be a mom. Marry a wonderful man, and I did. Have beautiful babies and raise them. And I did. I am.” The words came out more as frustration than thankfulness, and Allyson pounded a soft fist on her leg.
    “I don’t get it, Sean.” She blew out an exasperated breath, trying to hold back her tears. “This is my dream. I’m living it, and I’m not happy.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling them in close. “How come I feel like this?”
    Sean lowered his head, as if feeling defeat. “I don’t know.” She hugged herself hard. She didn’t want him to feel this way. It’s not like he had done anything wrong, and deep down she knew he couldn’t fix it either.
    Allyson returned to folding. “I’m a horrible person,” she muttered. There. She finally said the words. She’d been feeling them. Almost from Day 1 of this parenting thing she had felt them, but they were words she couldn’t voice. It was easier to put on a smile and continue on. Always continue on.
    “No, you’re not a horrible person.”
    Allyson peered up at Sean from under her lashes. She could tell he was trying to figure out what to say to her. What to do with her.
    She swallowed hard. “I’m just tired. I’m sorry . . .”
    He leaned closer to her, as if wanting her to pay attention to his words. “You don’t have to be sorry, alright? You don’t have to be sorry. You have to choose to do something for yourself. Do something for yourself. You have to do it. You’re the only person who can do that—”
    “Sean,” she interrupted, but he continued on.
    “It’s the kind of thing . . . that, if you just . . .”
    “Sean!” His name came out louder than she planned. She blew out a quick breath. “I—I don’t need a lecture right now. It’s not helpful in this particular moment.”
    “What?” He lifted his eyebrows. “I’m listening to you. I’m sitting here and listening to you. “
    “I know, I know you’re listening,” she let her voice trail off.
    “And I’m hearing you,” he added.
    She smirked. “You’re doing both of those things? Listening and hearing?” Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips together.
    He chuckled. “I am, I’m very talented.” He pointed a finger into the air. “And I’m showing marked improvement. You have to give me that. I want credit.”
    The doorbell interrupted their banter.
    Allyson looked to the door. Her mind raced, trying to remember if someone was going to stop by. No, she didn’t think so. She looked to Sean, and her heart sank when she saw the guilty look on his face.
    “Who is that?” she asked.
    Sean released a heavy sigh. “That would be Bridget.”
    “What?”
    “Yeah, I called Bridget and I invited her to dinner . . . and I forgot.”
    “Dinner?” Allyson’s mouth gaped open. She hadn’t even thought of dinner, and that was a problem. No, actually the problem was that her family expected to eat . . . every single night.
    “Open up, you community of losers, let me in. I’m hungry,” Bridget’s voice filtered in from outside.
    He cast her a look that said, Forgive me?
    “It’s fine. We’ll just whip something up.” Sean circled his hands in the air, and then he rose and moved toward the front door.
    “Oh, we’ll just whip something up? Because that’s how that happens.” She tossed the towel she’d been folding onto the couch. “We’ll do it together. Looking forward to whipping something up . . . together.”
    ***
    Allyson opened the door to see Bridget standing there. Petite, blonde, beautiful, Bridget had been such a darling girl when Allyson and Sean were dating. Allyson had met Sean’s half-sister at her seventh birthday party. She’d worn a pink Cinderella dress and had long blonde ringlets. She’d embraced Allyson’s neck and planted a wet kiss on her cheek when presented with “glass slippers” that were made of a