Chapter 43
43
H ard knocking sounds jolt me awake.
I roll out of Jake’s arms, and my eyes dart to the clock.
3:07 p.
m.
“Fuck!” Gabby is back with her dad.
I scramble to my feet, tugging on my shorts.
“Jake! Wake up.” I frantically get dressed and sweep my hair over one shoulder, desperate to smooth it into something less obvious.
“Stay in here,” I whisper, already moving toward the door.
He nods, but I catch the flicker of emotions running across his face.
This is not how this was supposed to happen.
I crack open the door, and before I can say a word, Gabby barrels into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
I bend down, holding her tight, but my pulse is racing.
This is the worst possible scenario.
It’s too soon for my ex and Gabby to meet Jake.
I manage to keep my voice light when I ask, “?La pasaste bien el fin de semana, mi amor?” Did you have a good time this weekend, my love?
“Sí, mamá!”
“Did you buy a car?” Samuel asks, and my heart sinks.
Jake’s Camaro is parked in the driveway.
Before I can say anything, I notice Samuel has a bouquet of flowers in hand.
Flowers?
What the fuck?
!
I might pass out at everything going on right now.
Samuel’s entire demeanor shifts.
His head tilts slightly, then squints.
“Is there a guy here?”
“What?” I breathe.
His eyes drag over me, intently.
“Your hair only looks like that after …” He trails off, his jaw clenching.
Heat floods my face.
I shouldn’t feel shame.
I am a grown woman.
I can sleep with whoever I want.
But there’s something about him standing there, watching, analyzing, calculating that brings this feeling to the surface.
He turns to Gabby, asking her in Spanish, “?Conociste al novio de mamá?" Have you met Mommy’s boyfriend?
Gabby giggles and shakes her head. “Mommy doesn’t have friends.”
A bitter laugh escapes me as my stress continues to grow.
“If there is a guy here, I need to meet him,” he says coldly.
“No.”
His eyes narrow, and he switches to Spanish. “En la casa donde está mi hija, sí.” In the house where my daughter is, yes.”
“No.”
This hypocritical bullshit. Gabby has met so many women whose names I don’t even know and will never know. The precedent has long been set–by him.
“So, there is a guy here?”
I take a steady breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Gabby, can you play in the living room while your dad and I talk?”
She skips away, and the second she’s out of earshot, I turn to him. “Samuel, don’t be a dick.”
“Always the victim.”
My fists clench and I bite back, Always the gaslighter.
“Why were you texting me if you have a guy?”
I scoff, stunned. “You think me asking how my daughter was doing was me flirting with you?”
The familiar cocky expression crossing his face makes me want to scream.
“Is he hiding in your bedroom?”
Frustration boils, and I manage, “Please leave.”
“I’m not leaving until I know who is in this house.”
“It’s not your right to know.”
“My daughter is here, and I pay the rent. It is my right.” He steps farther into the home.
“Leave!” I yell.
Samuel doesn’t turn away. He pushes past me, dropping the flowers onto the kitchen island. My body stiffens as he walks down the hall.
Jake emerges from my room, dressed. Thank God. Samuel stops and shakes his head before he looks back at me muttering, “Puta.”
Fucking hypocrite.
“Háblale con más respeto en su casa,” Jake says, and I blink hearing him tell Samuel to speak to me with more respect in Spanish. There is too much going on to process that Jake seems to know Spanish.
“ Mi casa.”
I groan. Samuel is being a fucking asshole. “You need to leave,” I assert, hoping this testosterone-laced tension doesn’t boil over.
The last fucking thing I need today is them throwing fists. They silently stare at each other for a few seconds until Samuel turns and walks past me. He stops in the living room doorway.
“Gabby, hug,” he calls, bending down to scoop her into his arms. Then, he looks directly at me. “Do you want to spend more time in Chicago?” he asks her.
“Yeah!” She squeezes him.
His gaze stays on me. “I want you to spend more time with me.”
I hate him , and all of the implications that can be drawn from his words. I’m on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by everything going on. When the door shuts, Jake is behind me, grabbing for my hand. I pull away.
“You need to leave too,” I snap.
“Claire …”
“Leave.”
“Baby.” He reaches for my hands.
I rip my hands away, throwing them in the air. “Fucking leave.”
His jaw tightens. I see his chest rise and fall as he scans my face, too deeply, too searchingly. “I’ll call you later,” he tentatively says.
“No.”
“Claire …” His voice is heavy with something I can’t handle right now.
My tears begin to fall, too many emotions are rising to the surface, especially my fear of losing Gabby. “I told you this wasn’t going to work,” I say tightly, pushing Jake to the door.