Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Maggie
It’s been years since I’ve shared a bed with a man. The first year or so after Kyle and I split up, Liam would climb into bed with me pretty regularly. But even that dropped off a while ago, and I’ve been sleeping in the center of my queen-sized bed ever since.
So sharing a bed with Jack seems like it should be jarring or awkward.
But it’s not.
We seem to exist in this bubble of perfection. He says and does all the right things, makes me come like it’s his job—which he did again this morning before we got up and had breakfast—and is the perfect bed companion—doesn’t snore, doesn’t hog the blankets, doesn’t crowd me.
It feels almost too good to be true.
But I try not to think about that. I decided weeks ago that I wasn’t going to think of him as too perfect while waiting to see what dark secrets lurk in his closet.
So far I haven’t found any. And it’s less crazy making to accept him at face value rather than constantly looking for glaring flaws.
I wouldn’t want him to treat me that way, after all. It’s not fair to do that to him.
And if, by chance, some deal-breaking flaw comes up at some point, I can deal with the situation then.
After a lazy morning, a shower together, and a decadent breakfast where he makes me French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon in a pair of electric blue briefs and an apron that says Kiss the Chef , dancing around and cracking me up, I insist we need to head to my place.
“I need cloooothes,” I moan.
He looks me up and down, still wearing his oversized Emeralds hockey T-shirt. “I think you look fine the way you are.”
“But I thought we were going to go somewhere and do something? Or did we scrap that plan in favor of me staying here in your shirt?”
A mischievous glint appears in his eye, and he slides around the breakfast bar and wraps his arms around me, still only wearing those electric blue briefs. “That doesn’t sound like a half-bad plan to me.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I know you. You’ll be bored in an hour, tops.”
He presses his lips together, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. “Fine. You win. Let me get dressed, then we’ll head to your place. Do you want to drive, or do you want me to?”
When I hesitate a second too long he says, “You know what? I’ll drive. That way you can save your gas, and we can figure out what to do from there. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”
We’re at my house a little while later, and I’m finally wearing my own clothes—shorts and a T-shirt—and I’m packing a bag so I can stay another night since I’m not supposed to get Liam until tomorrow.
As I’m finishing up with my toiletries—even though Jack offered to get me whatever I wanted, I felt weird asking for all my skincare products and just used his, but since I get to pack this time, I want my essentials—my phone rings. Picking it up, my stomach sinks.
I knew this weekend was going too perfectly. But it’s not Jack who’s the red flag of the two of us.
Nope. It’s me.
Or it’s me as an extension of my shitty ex.
“How’s it going, Kyle? Is Liam having fun?” I answer in my chirpiest voice, partly because I know he hates chirpy, and partly to demonstrate my expectations.
“Yeah, Mags, it’s been a fun weekend?—”
“Oh, great!” I cut in. “You know it hasn’t been a full weekend, though, right? ”
He sighs, like I’m the one causing problems here. “Yeah, I know. But something came up.”
I mouth the words along with him, because that’s the excuse every time. “What, Kyle? What could’ve possibly come up on the one weekend a month you promised your son you’d spend with him?”
“That’s not fair, Mags.”
“Don’t call me Mags,” I say through gritted teeth. “And how is it not fair? You’re supposed to have him every other week. You maybe take him for one day a month.”
“So, what? You’re saying you don’t want to spend time with your son now?”
“This isn’t about me, Kyle.” I spit the words, rage boiling inside me. How dare he suggest that I’m the slacker here? How dare he try to turn this around on me?
Another heavy sigh. “Look, Mags. Sorry— Maggie .” He says my name like I’m a toddler he’s appeasing. “I have a work thing that just came up. You know how it is.”
“No, Kyle. I do not. You talk about sports for a living. There are very, very few sports emergencies that you’d need to cover last minute. And somehow you use that excuse every time you have your son.”
“I need you to come pick him up. Now.”
It’s not even a question. “I can’t just?—”
“He’s ten. I can leave him home alone until you can deign to wrap up whatever crucially important thing you’re working on and come get him. I have to leave in thirty minutes. It’s your call.” And with that, he hangs up.
I hold my phone away from my face, impotent rage making me want to chuck it across the room, but I don’t want to break my phone or anything it might hit. Instead, I stomp over to my bed, fling it down, then sit down hard, burying my face in my hands.
“Was that your ex?” Jack’s soft voice drifts to me from the doorway.
Lifting my head, I meet his sympathetic gaze. “Yeah,” I croak.
“You have to go get your son.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yeah,” I croak again. Groping around on my bed, I find my phone, hating the tears welling in my eyes.
I stand and sniff really hard, dashing the tears with the back of one hand.
“Sorry. I really wish things were different, but this is my life right now.” Swallowing hard, I shake my head, then glance down at my phone.
“He says he’s leaving in thirty minutes, and if I’m not there to pick up Liam in time, he’ll just leave him home alone.
And while yeah, he’d probably be fine, I don’t want him feeling like he’s being abandoned by both his parents. ”
“How long does it take to get to your ex’s place?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Nodding, Jack pulls out his keys. “Let’s go. There’s not time to go back to my place and pick up your car. I’ll drive you, then take you to your car after we’ve picked him up.”
I hesitate for the briefest second. Jack taking me to pick up Liam is … well, I hadn’t really thought about introducing my son to Jack except in the most vague way. It certainly isn’t something I was planning on doing today. And if Kyle sees him …
Well, fuck Kyle and his bullshit. If he has a problem, he should think about that before constantly yanking all of us around.
“Thank you,” I breathe, my shoulders slumping. I stand, looking forlornly at the bag I just finished packing. Guess I won’t be needing that.
Of course, for all I know, I won’t ever need that again. I wouldn’t blame Jack if he decided this kind of bullshit was too much trouble for him. It’s one thing to know about all my baggage on an intellectual level. It’s another thing to experience first hand.
Forcing a smile, I head for the door.
Jack stops me, then pulls me into a hug. It takes every ounce of strength I possess to not break down crying into his chest. There’s not time for that right now. If we don’t hurry up, Kyle will just leave, and Liam will be sitting there wondering when I’ll show up.
God, I hate Kyle so much right now. Not just for interrupting my weekend with Jack, though that’s annoying, but for the way everything is always on his schedule. It’s not new, of course, but he’s taken his selfishness to new heights in the last couple of years.
We drive to Kyle’s house in silence only broken by me giving directions. Jack drives a two-door sports car, but the back seat is big enough for Liam, and he might even think getting to ride in a cool car is fun.
Or he will if he’s not too heartbroken from his dad being … himself yet again.
Jack waits in the car by unspoken agreement as I get out and knock on the door.
Kyle answers right away. “Oh, good. From the way you were on the phone, I wasn’t sure you’d make it in time.” He looks at his phone, checking the time, but I tune out whatever he’s blabbing about.
“You got all your stuff, bud?” I ask Liam, who’s sitting glumly on the couch. Fortunately, Kyle’s door opens into the living room, so I don’t have to go inside to find my son.
He lolls his head in my direction and gives a desultory nod. Poor kid. I hate this for him so much.
“Maggie.” Kyle’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I glance his way. He’s got his hands in his pockets, standing with his chest puffed out a little in the way he does when he’s irritated he’s not getting enough attention.
“What?” I snap.
He nods toward where Jack waits in the car. “What’s with that?”
I give him a blank look. “I’m not here to answer your questions.
I’m here to pick up my son so he doesn’t feel abandoned any more than he already does.
” Kyle’s chest puffs out even more as he draws in a breath, I’m sure to launch into a long diatribe of justification and somehow making this my fault.
Since everything is my fault, after all.
But before he can get a word out, I hold up a hand and turn to Liam again.
“Do you need help with your bags, sweetie?”
Shaking his head, Liam stands, dragging himself toward me, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, the reusable tote bag barely clearing the floor.
“I thought we agreed we’d be civil in front of Liam,” Kyle hisses at me.
I don’t even bother to look at him this time. “We agreed on a lot of things, Kyle. But somehow I’m the only one to hold up my part of the agreement.”
“Now hold on—” he starts, but I ignore him in favor of reaching for Liam’s tote bag. Even though he said he didn’t need help, he hands it to me. Well, sort of. He moves it slightly closer to my hand and doesn’t object when I take it, at least.
Shouldering the bag, I glance at Kyle. “We’re not going to keep playing these games.
And you don’t get to lecture me about parenting when I’m the only one who actually does it.
” I close my mouth before I can say, You’ll be hearing from my attorney , because why tip my hand?
Let him be surprised and angry when he gets the notice that I’ve filed to change custody.
I have more than enough evidence that he’s failing our son.
At the very least, we need to have child support adjusted.
I should’ve done it ages ago, but I kept hoping that he’d eventually decide to step up.
Stupid of me, really. He’s shown me over and over again that he won’t. I just thought that was restricted to me and my needs. I thought he could handle helping his son.
Guess I was wrong.