Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Pushing away from the counter, I nod. “We can take care of that. I’ll go grab some things from the bathroom and tidy you up before I leave.”
He blinks and shakes his head, looking surprised. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I was just bitching to be funny. Or, to try to be funny. Joking helps with the existential angst.”
“But you’ll feel better if you’re putting your best foot forward,” I say, backing toward the doorway. “And we have plenty of time. We’re up early and I don’t have a fussy little man to feed breakfast this morning.” The pot starts to whistle on the stove, and I nod toward it. “Make the coffee. I’ll have a cup to make sure my fingers are awake, then take care of your fuzz.”
I hurry up the stairs and into my bathroom, hunting beneath the sink until I find my trimmer and a fresh razor. I even locate an old can of Ben’s shaving gel shoved in the corner. Feeling prepared, I start downstairs when my phone pings.
Sticking the gel under my arm to free up a hand, I pull out my cell to read a text from Ben—Sorry, Mel, but I’m still not comfortable with sending Chase back to your house. Everyone in town knows Aaron’s staying with you. It’s THE hot gossip. A bad actor wouldn’t have any trouble figuring out where Aaron is. And to hurt Chase, all that bad actor would have to do is break in during the twenty-two-and-a-half hours the police cars aren’t driving by.
I clench my jaw, muttering, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
As if he’s heard my protest, Ben’s next text says—I know you’re probably asking yourself if I’m joking, but I’m not. Yes, the odds are that everything will be fine. But if there’s even a ten percent chance that Chase might be hurt, I can’t risk it. He’s my world, Mel. I know he’s yours, too, and you’d feel the same if our positions were reversed.
I sag against the wall and gaze down at the living room, the sight of Chase’s Legos tucked off to one side of the coffee table making me sick to my stomach. It feels like a sign that I’m losing him, that if things keep going the way they have been, I’ll soon only see him every other weekend and on random holidays.
Deep down, I know that’s not true, but the panic is real.
So is the anger…
Ben means well, but since when is he the “decider” in this relationship? We went to a mediator for our divorce and worked out all the details of custody and visitation together. We didn’t battle things out in court, but our agreement is still a legal document and he’s violating it.
But do I really want to play legal hardball with my ex? My dear friend? The man who, until recently, I still trusted only wanted what’s best for me?
I don’t know, but I do know I shouldn’t respond to this text while my stomach is in knots. Aaron was right last night. I want to make calm, measured decisions when it comes to the important things in my life, and Chase is the most important.
Back downstairs, however, Aaron instantly senses the change in me.
“It’s Ben,” I explain, pouring myself a coffee, black, like my mood. “He doesn’t want to let Chase come home with me, not even with the police and Pete driving by to check on us. He says everyone’s gossiping about you staying here, and it would be too easy for a bad actor to track you down and put Chase in danger.”
Aaron grunts over the rim of his own mug, his eyes glittering. “What about you? Isn’t he worried about you? The mother of his child? Or is it fine with him if you’re hurt by a psycho Wisconsin fan out for my blood?”
I instinctively start to defend Ben, but pause, exhaling without speaking the words on the tip of my tongue. After a beat, I shake my head and mutter, “I don’t know. I guess so. He’s different lately. Since things became serious with Radcliffe, it’s like… It feels like I’ve been replaced.”
“You’re Chase’s mother. You can never be replaced,” Aaron says. “Not by anyone, but especially not by dinkhead, Radcliffe, with his spider fingers and stupid scarfy things.”
My lips twitch. “It’s called a cravat. It’s fancy.”
“It’s stupid. And not warm enough for a Minnesota winter.”
“You’re right,” I say, my smile spreading. “Radcliffe does have spider fingers. All long and spindly. They give me the creeps.”
“Me, too,” Aaron agrees. “We should text Ben and tell him we don’t feel comfortable with Chase staying in a home with someone with spider fingers.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “I’m sure that would go over well.”
“Seriously, though, his only issue is that people know I’m here with you? Or that I was here at one point?”