: Chapter 23

“I put sheets and blankets on the couch,” I say, walking into the kitchen. “Fridge is full. Make yourself at home.”

Cole and his mother follow me in, the front door closing and anything but hospitality pouring out of my voice. Cole is more than welcome, but I’d love to put her in a hotel if I could.

He’s giving me a guilt trip, though.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Lindsay informs me, plopping her purse on my counter. “I need privacy. I’m a grown woman.”

Jordan trails in behind them quietly, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. Her eyes are downcast, and I don’t think she’s looked at me since last night when Cole called. I had to work today, and she took the day shift at the bar, and between her moving all of her toiletries back into her own bathroom and being holed up in her room doing who-knows-what tonight and me putting the finishing touches on her car, we haven’t said much. I guess I don’t know what to say any more than she does.

I look at Lindsay, her thick red lipstick matching the red lace bra peeking out of her black silk top, and for about five minutes twenty years ago I thought she was hot and confident. Now, it’s not attractive at all, because I know what’s inside.

Hopefully, I only have to put up with her for a night or two. Cole had moved back with her the past couple days, but they’re replacing the storm windows in her apartment, so they needed somewhere to stay while the workers finish.

“You can have all the privacy you want at a hotel,” I remind her. “I offered to pay.”

“Dad, come on,” Cole mumbles, walking to the fridge for a soda.

He glances at Jordan, but she’s not meeting anyone’s eyes.

The room turns silent, and it’s so uncomfortable.

I clear my throat. “Well, unless you want to share a room with Cole,” I tell Lindsay, “there’s nowhere else, except the basement.”

“What about the spare room?” she shoots back.

“That’s Jordan’s room.”

“Jordan shouldn’t even be living here,” she says, almost a hiss. And then she turns to Jordan. “Can you please share a room with my son for a couple nights, so I can have the spare room?”

“It’s not a spare room anymore,” I bite out, my heart suddenly thumping. “It’s her room.”

There’s no fucking way…

“This is ridiculous.” Lindsay glares at me. “I’m the mother of your son, and I need a room.” She glances at Jordan again. “You’ve spent plenty of time in a bed with Cole. Another night or two won’t kill you, right?”

I move forward, planting my hands on the island. “She’s not sleeping with Cole. They’re not together anymore. It’s unfair.”

“It’s a bed,” Cole finally speaks up, sighing. “It’s just sleeping. We can handle it.”

I look to Jordan, waiting for her to put up some kind of fight and help me out here, but all she does is raise her eyes, meeting mine and saying nothing. Like I’m the one letting this happen, and she’s waiting for me to do something.

If she’s not going to back me up, then I look stupid, fighting for her honor. She’s a big girl. They won’t understand why I’m the only one protesting.

And I’m scared now.

I want her and Cole to reconcile and be friends again eventually, but I don’t want them together, alone, all night. They were a couple, dammit. He knows her body as well as I do. What if they start feeling what they felt when they first got together and everything was good? What if she starts thinking she needs someone…younger? They have history.

I’m not going to be jealous of my son. We’re not competing. But he’s known her a hell of a lot longer. What if they talk and reconnect?

It’s on the tip of my tongue to just blurt it out. She’s mine, and she’s not sharing a bed with another man.

But I look at Lindsay and the trainwreck she’s been, and how, in the last six years, he has repeatedly taken her side. She always played the victim and guilted him into standing up for her, and he will stand with her again, because he knows I can stand on my own. It would make her year to find out I was screwing Jordan behind his back. She’s just looking for something to hate, and I’m not putting Jordan in the middle of that.

I drop my eyes, barely able to unclench my jaw. “Jordan, there’s blankets on the couch,” I say quietly. “Let me know if you get cold.”

I start to walk out of the room, but then I hear Jordan finally speak up. “No, Cole’s right,” she replies. “It’s a bed, it’s sleeping, and it’s only for a night or two. I’m cool with it.”

I stop and look over at her, but she’s just focused ahead, calm as can be. I squeeze my right fist and stalk out of the room, heading upstairs. It’s barely seven and a Friday night, but if I don’t get space, I’ll do something stupid.

Like pick the fight I so desperately want with her right now in front of everyone.

Sometime after midnight I fall asleep. I was on the verge of giving us away half a dozen times tonight, but the risk of regretting coming clean was too great. Not now. Not in front of my ex.

This is a fling. A dirty, sordid fling, right? At least that’s what everyone will think.

And it would break Cole’s heart. I’m sure he expects her to move at some point. He hasn’t been too concerned with her since he left, after all.

But knowing I swept in, played with one of his toys, and knowing there’s a chance I might make her happier…. Yeah, speaking from experience, there’s always a part of you that feels you have more of a right to a former girlfriend than anyone else, even after the breakup. He’ll see this as a betrayal. As me taking her side and trying to do better where he couldn’t.

And he’d be right. Every feeling he’d have I would understand.

I’ll come clean. Eventually. She’ll realize I’m too old—too settled—and she’ll want more. It won’t last.

Knowing that, though, doesn’t stop me from wanting her. From missing her and needing her.

The bed dips behind me, and I blink my eyes open, realizing someone else is in the room. It takes me a moment to register, but then relief floods me, and I reach my hand back, pulling her into me.

Jordan.

But then I furrow my brow, my heart jackhammering as Victoria’s Secret’s Heavenly wafts through my nostrils, and I feel a leg that doesn’t have the same curves and tone I’ve grown to crave every day.

Popping up, I turn my head and see a familiar outline at my side but not the one I want. “What the hell?”

I whip off the covers and turn on the lamp, sitting up and staring at Lindsay. She’s wearing a red silk nightie.

What the hell does she think she’s doing?

“Are you serious?” She pins me with a surprised look like that wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. “Don’t pretend like you don’t remember the drill. Pike. When a sure thing shows up half-naked and horny in your bed, you don’t turn them down.”

She leans in, pressing her body into mine and going for my neck with her mouth.

“Stop.” I rise from the bed and grab my jeans from the chair, sliding them on. “I’m not that fucking desperate.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Pike.” She sighs, scooting closer onto her knees and tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “I was young. I was stupid. And I was selfish,” she pleads. “I didn’t see what a good man you are. How lucky I was to have someone ambitious and responsible and steady. I want you.” She cocks her head, playing me with her eyes. “It wasn’t all bad. You remember that, right? You remember how hot we were.”

I reach into the drawer of my nightstand, seeing the new box of condoms I had to buy, because Jordan and I went through the last one faster than I expected. I quickly grab a cigar out of the box and my lighter and slam the drawer shut, so Lindsay doesn’t see it and start being nosy.

“I didn’t have much of a frame of reference back then,” I spit out. “I do now.”

“You’re lonely,” she states. “I want to try again. For Cole’s sake. You know how much he would love to see us together? He was too young to remember.”

I let out a bitter laugh. And thank goodness for that. Coming home from a double-shift and shelling out sixty bucks to a babysitter before spending the rest of the night catching an hour sleep where I could between Cole waking up for feedings while she was out partying.

“Aren’t you tired of going out alone?” She climbs off the bed and steps up to me. “Seeing all our friends with their families and homes and vacations? We can be that. I’ve grown up. I could be here for you, taking care of you, and taking care of this house.”

This house. She means our house. She wants to live here.

The idea of her in my house, walking around like it’s hers, makes me sick. This isn’t her house. It’ll never be hers. It’s…

I stop myself, not needing to put the thought into words. There’s only one woman I see living in this house.

I walk for the door. “And, let me guess…in exchange, I’d financially support you in this arrangement, right?”

“I could make you happy,” she tells me. “I have before.”

I drop my eyes, barely even needing to ponder that statement. A month ago, I might’ve agreed with her. Once upon a time, for a very short spell, we were happy. Days here, hours there.

But now I know, it didn’t even come close. She doesn’t even compare to what I’ve had the past few weeks.

“Go back to your room.” I walk out, leaving the door open and then adding over my shoulder. “Jordan’s room, I mean.”

I charge down the hallway, slowing when I pass Cole’s door and so fucking tempted to push it open. That’s mine in there. What kind of a man puts his woman in that situation? What kind of a man doesn’t fucking own up and take what’s his?

I need to think. I jog down the stairs and make my way through the kitchen and then the laundry room, every moment I wait bringing me closer and closer to not being able to take this. I know she won’t let anything happen, but I need her out of there.

But as soon as I step outside, I see that the problem is already solved. For the moment, anyway. She sits on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, and glances over at me as I step outside.

I pause momentarily, her blue eyes cold and distant. Awareness pricks at my back, knowing Lindsay’s room—Jordan’s room—faces the backyard, and she could possibly be watching.

Casually, I walk to the lawn table, light my cigar, and set the lighter down, puffing and inhaling until the end burns bright orange. The sweet scent fills my nose, and I blow out smoke, immediately feeling a tingle in my head. I walk over to the side of the pool opposite her and look down at her, seeing she’s dressed in some sleep shorts and a black tank with no bra on.

The hard points of her nipples are visible from here.

I tense my jaw. “You’re sleeping in that?” I mumble, barely moving my lips and keeping my voice as low as possible.

“He’s seen me in less.”

I pinch the cigar and flick the end with my middle finger. “And?

“And what?”

I arch an eyebrow. “Did he touch you?”

I hear her breath out a laugh. “Maybe.” And then she thins her eyes on me. “And maybe I let him. He’s a chip off the old block, after all.”

My jaw aches, and she shakes her head, turning away from me.

I know she’s angry. I know why she’s angry. And I know we all do stupid things when we’re angry. She’s pushing me away, and I just need time to think. Just some time.

“Don’t do this,” I tell her.

“Then don’t ask me stupid questions.”

Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, and she looks miserable. I don’t know what to do.

“This is killing me,” I whisper, shooting my eyes to her window to make sure Lindsay isn’t watching. “Fucking killing me, knowing you are in his bed.”

“Then you should’ve told them the truth,” she fires back. “That she could use my room all she wants, because I sleep in your bed now.”

She pushes herself to her feet, dusting off her ass, and I can’t look at her in the eye anymore. She sleeps in my bed now. Yes, she does.

And I want her there more than anything right now.

“If you want me, we’re going to have to face him sooner or later,” she says. “You can’t keep me cooped up here, Pike. I want to do things with you, go out with you, go to dinner, kiss you, and not have to worry about being behind closed doors when I do it.”

I’m quiet for a moment, and she doesn’t wait for me to find my tongue. She stalks off toward the house, and I frantically glance up at her window again before shooting off to go get her. Grabbing her hand, I pull her around the corner of the house and back her up against the wall.

“We can’t,” I plead, staring down at her. “Not yet. What we’re doing isn’t right. Everyone will talk. Cole won’t understand.”

Her eyes glisten with tears as she stares up at me, but her jaw tenses with anger.

I back up a step, running my hand through my hair. “What if this ends in two weeks, and I’ve destroyed what relationship I do have with my kid, because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants?” I tell her. “I should’ve just kept my hands off you! Why couldn’t I resist? Huh?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it’s the truth. I should’ve kept my hands off. Who the hell knows how Cole will take this? How much deeper could Lindsay sink her claws into him over this? Everything I’ve done in my life was for him. I didn’t go to college because she wouldn’t work, and we needed money. I worked my ass off, so I could afford everything he would need. He’s finally coming around, and this could ruin everything.

She’s quiet for a while, and I hate it. I want to know what she’s thinking, and when she’s angry, at least I know she wants to fight. Right now, her breathing is slow and steady, and she just stares at me, too calm.

She nods to herself. “It’s not worth it,” she deciphers. And then she starts to walk away. “I know you’re right.”

“Jordan…”

“No, it’s okay.” She stops. “I get it. I knew my sister was right. This was never going to happen.”

That’s not…

But it is what I meant, isn’t it? If I can’t tell him now, was I ever planning to? When would it be easier? After they’ve been broken up a couple years?

When I don’t respond, she glances at me. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She walks for the back door, and I feel like I’ve been kicked. I feel like I’m never going to see her again.

I race after her, catching her hand and stopping her. “Don’t,” I beg. “Jesus, I didn’t mean that. Jordan, I…you are worth it. I just…” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” she says, sounding so calm I’m scared. “It really is. I should thank you, actually. I’ve been trying for years, it seems, to be the kind of woman I admire, and all of a sudden I feel like I am that woman now. I know I’m worth it. You’re just not.”

She moves to walk away, and I stop her again. “Jordan.”

This time she whips around, holding her head high and yanking her hand out of my grasp. “Tell him now then,” she demands.

The air rushes from my lungs with the ultimatum.

“Tell him with me now,” she says, “so I can go get in our bed, and we can go to sleep and tomorrow we can start to move forward, because it will all be done, and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.” Her eyes challenge me. “Tell him now.”

I open my mouth to speak. To tell her I will. I’ll march up right now and tell my son the truth. That I think I love her, and I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean to hurt him.

But I know I’m right. She’ll be back to school full time in two months, meeting guys who are educated and have their whole lives in front of them. I’m not upsetting my family when I don’t know what this is yet. She has no right to ask that of me.

She starts to back away, the blue in her eyes like ice.

“It’s so incredible how fast it can happen, isn’t it?” she says as she slowly leaves me. “How I feel absolutely nothing for you now.”