Chapter 26
WINNIE
Knox is just as big as I remembered him, though not as big as the stalker was.
I grit my teeth, trying not to think about what I just did—and where.
I don’t even recognize myself.
I’m having a midlife crisis—that’s what it is. Or maybe perimenopause? I’m old enough to get that, right?
I need a hot bath, some alone time to remember the way it felt to be fucked like that. Maybe I’ll check myself into a swanky hotel room, not have to deal with yet more family drama.
But all the swanky hotels in the city are owned by Fitz, so maybe that’s not such a smart idea.
“Knox is back! Isn’t that wonderful?” Mom cries, giving the hockey player a hug.
“I’m making him his favorite,” my dad tells me, beaming from the stove.
Fidget glares at Knox from around the fridge.
“I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, Winn Dixie,” my sister’s ex says, the ego and narcissism just oozing out of him. “Why don’t you come give me a hug? We’re practically family.”
I put my hands up when he tries to go for the hug.
Fidget growls from her spot.
“Still have that scaredy-cat dog,” Knox says as Fidget starts barking. “Don’t know why women your age get pets and not babies.”
Fucker.
“Maybe because men like you don’t commit, string women along, then dump them for a younger model.”
His face screws up.
“You have some nerve showing up here to harass Kathy, bro.”
“Kathy’s not here. Your grandmother took her and Olive out on the town,” Mom trills.
“So then why is he sitting at the table? You’re not going to stay in my house waiting for my sister to show up so you can harass her. Dad, no—he ruined Kathy’s life and mine. He doesn’t get a free meal.”
I grab up the plate of caprese salad my dad just set down in front of Knox for appetizers. Bending over almost makes my coat gape.
“Oh, give that back to him. He just got done with hockey practice. He has his first big game with Seattle tomorrow.” Mom tries to wrestle the plate from me.
“So after dumping my sister and cheating on her with someone young enough to be your daughter, you want all the perks of being in this family with none of the sacrifices?” I demand.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Knox, don’t pay Winnie any mind. You’ll always be family. And who knows? Maybe things will work out. The universe works in mysterious ways.” Mom glares at me. “Take that coat off and sit down and eat with us, Winnie. I raised you to be a good hostess.”
“Yeah, Winnie,” Knox’s voice is grating. “Your parents tell me how hard you work. You should relax. Have a drink.”
Nope. Not making that mistake again.
I pull my coat around me, feeling gross when his eyes slide down my torso. I’m not wearing the dirty skirt or my undies under it.
It’s like he knows.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Winn Dixie.” His hands reach for the coat.
“Honestly, Winnie, go comb your hair and come sit down and eat. Knox took time out of his busy schedule to come see us. You didn’t tell me he was moving to Seattle, Winnie.” Mom turns back to Knox. “Oh, I hope you and Kathy get back together.”
As much as I malign my sister, she deserves better than Knox.
“Knox, tell us all about Seattle. Where are you living?” Dad asks earnestly. “Do you need a place to stay? You can stay here with us. Winnie and Kathy can go stay in her office. You can get a blow-up mattress, move the desk out of the way.”
“Well, I have been put up in a very nice hotel for the next couple of weeks, but my mother”—Mom blanches—“needs a place to stay,” Knox says expectantly.
My mom clears her throat delicately. “Of course we can accomodate that.”
“‘We’ who, Mom?” I hiss.
“Winifred, I raised you to be a good hostess. Knox, go with Winnie. She’ll show you the bedroom. You can send photos to your mom and ask her if that will be okay.”
I’m numb as I carefully climb the stairs, my hips and pussy and ass aching with every step but in a good way.
I feel claimed. Fucked.
But Knox in my house? The sex high is not enough to stave off the anxiety.
“So, here’s the bedroom.” I hate having him in my space, even though the space has been co-opted by Kathy.
My voice drops. “If you have any shame, you’ll go downstairs and keep walking out the door.”
Knox’s foot catches the bathroom door before I can close it. “Were you with a man?” Knox hisses, shutting the door behind him.
“No.”
“You smell like sex.” He pushes me against the wall. “I know what you smell like after sex, Winn Dixie.” His hands fumble under the long coat.
I gasp, trying to shove him off.
“Where are your panties?” He grabs them out of my pocket.
Knew I should have thrown them away.
Knox, not breaking eye contact with me, presses my panties to his face.
For a second, I wonder if Carolina was right and he was the one writing the notes and planting the dildo.
“Now, Winn Dixie, were you on your hands and knees in an alley getting fucked like a dog just now?”
I try to keep the panic off my face.
How? He can’t know, can he?
It couldn’t have been him.
“You always were a better fuck than your sister.” He shoves the dirty panties down the front of my coat. “Turn around.” He’s arrogant, entitled. “You know you want it. You know you want to let me give you a taste of my cock. Let me show you how a real man fucks.”
“You have to get out of here before Kathy comes back.” My mouth is dry.
He laughs as I shove him to the bathroom door, into the bedroom.
“Winnie?” Kathy looks hurt when she sees us standing in the doorway.
“Knox is just leaving, aren’t you?”
Fidget pokes her head around Kathy and growls.
“If you’re not here to get on your knees and apologize,” Gran threatens, coming up the stairs, “then you need to clear out. We don’t want liars and cheaters here.”
His watery blue eyes rest on Gran for a moment. “Still alive and kicking, I see.”
“Yeah.” Gran puts up her fists. “Try me and see.”
Knox just laughs. It sounds fake.
“Mom,” I tell Kathy, “has offered to let Knox’s mom stay here.”
“The Pittsburgh troll?”
Knox turns on me, looking like he’s going to hit me for a second. “You let that old bitch talk about my mama like that?”
“She’s in the early stages of dementia, baby.” Kathy has reverted to her complacent stay-at-home-girlfriend persona—her shoulders stoop. “I told you that. Don’t take it personally.”
Knox preens at the flattery. He’s getting off on this.
“I’ll blow a cap in his cheating head. How’s that for dementia?” Gran spits. “You bring that cunt here, and I’m pissing in her bed.”
“Gran, that’s my bed. Please don’t. Knox, you need to go.”
“Go? This is my house, and I’m staying for dinner.”
“No.” I race after him.
“Winnie, I thought you were going to change.” Mom is exasperated.
Knox catches me around the waist.
I beat him off.
“Don’t mind Winnie.” Dad scoots out Knox’s chair and sets a steaming plate of chicken parmesan in front of him.
“So, ah—” My parents pour him wine.
Knox guzzles it.
“Are you still with, um—” Dad clears his thorat.
“Brinley?” He stuffs the food in his mouth, practically using his hands to eat. He shrugs. “Sort of.”
Mom clasps her hands together. “Kathy, this could be another chance for the great American love story.”
“Mom, jeez, she’s not Taylor Swift.”
“I might be persuaded if Winnie can stop being a mother hen.” Knox smirks up at me.
“Kathy has a job now. She doesn’t need your bullshit.”
“Frances, put that knife down and sit down,” Mom pleads.
“I’m not breaking bread with a cheater.” Gran crosses her arms.
“Well, you’re going to have to quit your job then, if we get back together,” Knox tells Kathy.
“Oh, right.” Kathy deflates.
“I need you on my team.” He’s still staring at me.
My parents are ecstatic. “They’re getting back together!”
“Maybe.” Knox smirks, loving pulling their strings.
“He hasn’t even broken up with the last skank.”
“Jesus Christ, Winn Dixie. Is she always like this?” he jokes meanly to my parents.
“It’s why she has a hard time getting a boyfriend,” Mom says with a long-suffering sigh.
“You should come to my first game tomorrow.” Knox scrapes his fork on the plate.
I glare.
“Over my dead body.”
“For someone who had no dating prospects, it’s ironic you’re now juggling three men.”
“Shh!” I cut off Carolina. “Knox is not in the juggle.”
I look over at Kathy. She’s recovered from the Knox appearance, and she and Olive are giggling as they work on wedding planning.
No, not for anyone important or nice. It’s Loony Laura.
“The roaches sure are coming out of the toaster oven,” Carolina marvels. “I mean, what are the odds of them meeting Looney Laura at that psycho finance bro watering hole.”
“She would invite a bunch of strangers to be in her wedding.” I sip my coffee. “You’d think she’d be too insecure.”
“She has no shame. Have you seen the bridesmaid dresses?” Carolina makes a face.
“I wish Kathy had just picked up one of those finance bros at the bar.” I run my fingers through my hair. “The circus in my house is multiplying.”
“You’re not seriously letting the Pittsburgh troll into your house, are you?”
“Fuck no.”
“Good.”
“Can’t believe she was almost your MIL.”
“‘Almost’ is a stretch.”
“She’s probably the one who shit-talked you to Knox in the first place.
” Carolina deepens her voice. “You weren’t good enough for her precious baby.
” She smirks. “I’m serious, though. Loving that he’s secretly still been into you all these years.
Pussy so good you corrupted him from beyond the time horizon. ”
“I think he’s just doing it as a control thing.”
“Considering that you had stranger-danger sex in an alley, seems like it’s right in your spank bank.”
“That was a lapse of judgment on my part.” I stare down at the foam in my cup. “I’m going to quit drinking. I’m going vegan.”
Carolina points to the croque monsieur pastry—warm and hammy with creamy cheese and béchamel.
“In my head, I’m already turning over a new healthy leaf,” I protest. “I even bought some lifestyle advice books. There are worksheets. I’m going to figure out where it all went wrong.”
“Probably when you didn’t report your stalker to the police.”
“He deep-cleaned my fridge.”
“Winnie!” Olive and Kathy giggle from the counter, waving me over. “There’s a man here for you.”
I peek over from the seating area by the books, heart pounding.
Knox? The stalker? No.
It’s Fitz… followed by my family.
“Fitzgerald is taking us to an NHL game.” My dad puffs up happily.
“Okay, well, have fun.” I give an awkward wave.
“You have to come, too, Winnie.” My mom frowns. “Fitz picked us up in a limo. It’s rude not to go.”
“I don’t want to go watch a hockey game. I hate organized sports—no offense, Fitz. And Kathy doesn’t want to go see those WAGs.”
“She has to suck it up. She could have dated the billionaire instead,” Gran declares. “Fitz says the skybox has all-you-can-drink alcohol.”
“I could use a drink,” Carolina says pointedly, “after the stories I’ve heard today…”
“I’m sure you still have a chance with Knox, Kathy,” Mom says. “Let’s just fix your hair…”
I glare at Fitz around my parents. He’s wearing that lazy smile.
“I’ll close up here, Winnie.” Olive waves us off. “I’ve got this.”
“She does not have this,” I mutter under my breath.
“Now, from one business owner to another”—Fitz throws an arm around my shoulder—“you have to let your employees rise to the occasion.”
“I don’t need you to mansplain to me about running a business.”
“Fantastic. So come to the hockey game with me. I have the nicest sky suite booked. No mansplaining.” He holds up a hand.
“Hardly impressive since you own the stadium.”
He preens. “Now you’re getting it. Olive”—he salutes her—“godspeed.”
She giggles.
“I’m not dressed,” I grumble.
“We’re going to a regular-season afternoon hockey game, not the Super Bowl, Creampuff. Fucking Toronto. You look great. That little bit of cheese on your nose really completes the whole ensemble.”
“Now this is a limo,” Gran boasts to me as Fitz steers me out onto the sidewalk. “Look at that thing! I can’t stand those rich guys that like to pretend they’re poor. You got the cash, put on a show. This is exactly the kind of car I’d buy if I had a bazillion dollars.”
“This isn’t a limo—it’s an abomination.” I stare at the pimped-out bright-metallic-blue SUV limo in front of me. “It’s ostentatious and a fire hazard. Why does it have so many doors? Wait—” I frown. “Did you just hack a bunch of cars together?”
Two of the doors raise up like the bloated Batmobile, and we all clamber in. The leather seats inside are an equally nauseating shade of blue.
“It’s for the fire hazard that you’re so worried about. Have a drink, Winnie.” He pours me champagne. “For someone running Seattle’s second-cutest café, you seem stressed.”
“Second-cutest?”
“There’s that corgi café on Second.”
“Man picks you up in a swanky car, you suck his dick—you don’t complain.” Gran swats me. “Haven’t I taught you anything?”