Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALEX
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket for the third time in the last five minutes, and I curse myself for not shutting the damn thing off during my interview.
“They’re right on track. Finch is young and healthy, unlike this old man,” I lamely joke to the reporter interviewing me about the Arrows’ chances in the playoffs this season without me.
“Yeah, his fastball is nothing to sneeze at,” he returns just as lamely and with the same fake jovial tone I used. “Thanks for being here, Alex.”
We shake hands. “The pleasure was mine,” I reply just before the red light on the camera shuts off. I stand and throw him a nod before retreating from the sound stage.
I assume it’s Gary texting or calling me, so I’m in no hurry to pull out my phone. But since I have a few notes to text Bronte Hughes, the majority owner of the team, I remove the phone from my pocket anyway.
The text alert that greets me has all the blood draining from my face.
Addison:
Your ex-wife is here!
Addison:
What should I do?
Addison:
Everett is crying. Am I allowed to kick her out?
The last text has my heart in knots. Of course Everett is crying. The woman who is supposed to love him more than anyone on earth has suddenly reappeared after completely abandoning them over a year ago!
Acutely grateful for Addison’s allegiance to my boys, I quickly text back.
Me:
On my way. Be there in thirty.
I rush out to my vehicle and curse at the traffic clogging the parking garage. As soon as I emerge and have a signal again, I dial the number I’ve sworn never to call again. Taren answers on the third ring.
“What the fuck are you doing at my house?” I demand before she can utter a single word. Addison’s soothing voice is audible in the background as she comforts Everett.
“Alex, how nice to hear your voice.” Taren pretends we’re having a civil conversation.
“You are trespassing, and if you don’t get off my property in the next thirty seconds, I’m calling the police to drag your ass away.”
“Oh, I doubt that. How would that look, darling?”
I bristle at her endearment, hating her more in this moment than I ever have. The boys have been healing and doing so well. They’ve especially been thriving under Addison’s care, and Taren is ripping off a scab and opening old wounds.
“I’m telling you right now, you’d rather deal with the police than with me when I get there. Fair warning, Taren.”
“Oh, I think I’ll take my chances. See you in a bit.” She hangs up.
I swerve between cars until I reach I-240, breaking every speed record out there in my determination to reach my boys. I come to a screeching halt in the driveway twenty minutes later, almost rear-ending the sporty silver Cadillac parked in my drive. I slam my Rover in park and sprint to the front door. It bangs as it hits the wall, nearly shattering the glass, but I can’t give one single fuck.
I hear her before I see her. She’s laughing that fake-ass laugh—the one that’s about as real as her hair extensions and her tits. DeeDee and Addison stand stiffly in the kitchen with Taren occupying one of the barstools, and the boys, thankfully, watching TV behind her. I don’t know how Addison managed it, but all three boys sit, engrossed in a show and with no more tears in sight.
“There you are,” Taren coos.
“Outside. Now.” My voice is hard and low, my fury barely contained.
She smirks before turning to the kids. “I’ll be right back, boys.” Thankfully, they all ignore her. DeeDee and Addison, on the other hand, deliver sharp glares to her back as Taren exits the room before me. We both walk outside, and I quietly shut the door behind us before facing my bitch of an ex-wife.
“What in the absolute fuck are you doing here, Taren?”
“What, no hello?” she attempts to stall. My look stops her. “Fine. I was in town and felt like stopping by to see my children. Sue me.”
“No. Try again.” My hands remain glued to my hips.
“God. You don’t have to be so dramatic, Alex.”
“Tell me what you want, and then get out of here. For good.”
“Fine. If you must know, Alessandro turned out to be a tad…overextended. We had to sell the house on Fisher Island, and you know I can’t tolerate living anywhere without adequate security.” Her tone suggests only people with highly contagious diseases would ever deign to inhabit any area of Miami that isn’t its own private island.
“So, get a job.”
She gestures up and down her figure as if that somehow suffices as an explanation. Of course, Taren has always been beautiful and takes excellent care of herself to portray the most elegant and glamorous image possible. And I fell for it once upon a time. That time, however, is not today.
“Grow up. We’re divorced, if you haven’t forgotten.”
“No, I haven’t, but I’ve been rethinking our custody agreement.”
In other words, she’s been rethinking her relinquishment of all rights to our children and figures a nice, fat, monthly child-support payment might be useful.
“You couldn’t wait to sign away your rights, and I’ve spent the last year piecing those little boys back together.” I gesture to the house behind me. “All you’re doing by showing up here is hurting them. Can’t you understand that?”
“Again with the drama.” She rolls her eyes. “I came to let you know that you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Now, I’ll just pop back in to say goodbye to the boys and be on my way.”
“The only place you’re going is off my fucking property.”
She huffs. “Fine. But I’ll be back. Bye, Alex.”
And, with that, she drops her bony ass into the Caddy and speeds down the driveway to God knows where. I can only hope it’s straight to hell.
Taren fooled me once, but I’ll be damned if she’ll ever pull one over on me again. I met and married her in Florida, where I was playing at the time, and she was the quintessential Florida girl. She loved nothing more than basking in the public limelight during our relationship, always dragging me to functions and constantly preoccupied with her appearance. Which is why it surprised me when she wanted to get pregnant right after our wedding.
I hate to admit that it took so long to discover her true intentions. I suppose I was so thrilled with each little addition to our family that I put blinders on. While the prenup she signed ensured a good chunk of cash should we ever divorce, her ace in the hole was my family’s trust funds for any children we had. Or so she thought. With the birth of each boy, she saw nothing but dollar signs. When she finally discovered the trust funds would be inaccessible to her, she flipped the fuck out, and the truth of our entire marriage was laid bare. After that, she couldn’t run away fast enough.
There is no way I’m letting that cold bitch back into my boys’ lives. I’ll use my last dime and my last breath before I ever let that happen.