Chapter Six
Corbin
Saturdays are usually reserved for Tate. With Jules working long hours on the weekends, we’ve made a habit of planning something together—museums, ball games, the zoo. But today, Tate wanted to stay at the coffee shop.
So, I threw myself into work. Numbers. Reports. Meetings. The things I’m supposed to care about.
Except I don’t.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be with my son. I want to be with Jules. Even if she’s made it clear Tate is our priority.
I let her go once. And I can’t stop wondering if that was the biggest mistake of my life.
Two years ago, she was miserable. And I let myself believe that leaving was the right thing to do. That I was doing her a favor.
Being married to me wasn’t easy. My father made sure of that.
I think back to the gala. The one that changed everything.
Jules had just started an advanced painting class—the one I begged her to take after her mom passed. She wanted to paint full-time, and I wanted that for her, too. I even reached out to a few galleries in the city, quietly lining up opportunities for when she was ready.
But she was running late that night. Her class had gone over, and when she finally showed up, breathless in a pale blue gown, my father didn’t even look at her.
He looked at her hands.
“You couldn’t have, at the very least, washed the paint from your hands?” he muttered under his breath, his face tight with embarrassment.
Jules curled her fingers inward, as if she could make them disappear. I took her hands in mine, trying to shield her, but the damage was already done.
“You’d do well to remind your wife that image is important in our circle, won’t you, son?”
I wanted to tell him off. To remind him that Jules was the most brilliant, talented person in that entire goddamn room. Instead, I led her away, murmuring some excuse, feeling the weight of his disapproval press down on me.
She didn’t cry.
She just disappeared into the bathroom for half the night, scrubbing at her hands until they were raw. When she came back, she barely touched her food. Just sipped champagne in silence, her lip worried between her teeth, her eyes distant.
I should have done something.
I should have taken her home.
I should have told my father to go to hell.
Instead, I sat there.
Like a goddamn coward.
And now, two years later, I’m still sitting here, drowning in numbers and meetings, pretending I don’t know exactly where I wish I was instead.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing a tired hand over my face, and close my eyes. I should get up. Leave. Drive across town and stop by the coffee shop to see my son. But things with Jules are complicated. And I’m tired of being the reason she feels uncomfortable.
Except she wasn’t uncomfortable a few nights ago.
She wasn’t uncomfortable when she kissed me first, when she let me carry her up the stairs. To my bed. To what used to be our bed.
She didn’t hesitate when my hands mapped out every curve of her body, when I whispered her name against her skin, when we fit together as seamlessly as we always had.
The only time she hesitated was in the morning. When daylight made it impossible to pretend it hadn’t happened. When reality set in, and she put the distance back between us.
I might be a coward, but Jules? She’s a runner.
A sharp knock pulls me from my thoughts.
I open my eyes just as the door swings open wider, revealing Susan. She steps in with a practiced smile, her gaze skimming over me as she closes the door behind her.
“How’s it going?” she asks, casual, like she has any business being here right now.
I straighten, irritation flickering beneath my skin. I’m not in the mood for this. Not in the mood for her questions, for her attempts at small talk, for another offer to grab drinks that I have no intention of accepting.
I don’t know what she said to Jules, but whatever assumptions were made, the truth is simple: Susan is a co-worker. Someone I’ve gotten drinks with twice. Someone who once dropped off documents at my house and stayed to go over them.
That’s it.
And yet, here she is, sinking into one of the black leather chairs in front of my desk, crossing one leg over the other so her skirt rides up just enough to be noticed.
I don’t give her the satisfaction of looking.
“Didn’t expect to find you here on a Saturday,” she says, filling the silence.
I keep my expression neutral. “How’s it going, Susan?”
She crinkles her nose, tucking a strand of short blonde hair behind her ear. “We should talk about the other morning.”
My jaw tightens.
“Seems like I interrupted something,” she adds, watching me closely.
I fold my hands on the desk, keeping my voice level. “I didn’t appreciate you stopping by unannounced. My time with my son is important to me.”
Her smile barely falters. “And what about time with his mother?”
Something prickles in my chest. Something sharp and uninvited.
“My relationship with Jules is not open for discussion.”
Susan tilts her head, amused. “So, there is a relationship.”
I exhale slowly, already done with this conversation.
She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. “Is that why you won’t take me home? Why you’ll only go so far as drinks? Still harboring feelings for your ex-wife, Corbin?”
I hold her gaze, my silence answering the question for me.
“Listen,” Susan says, her tone honeyed, a practiced smile stretching across her red lips. “I don’t want to get in the way of… whatever you have going on at home. But I enjoy our time together. I like you. I like how good we are together.”
I don’t react. At least, I try not to. But the truth sits heavy in my chest.
The only person I was ever good with doesn’t want me. Not right now anyway.
Susan and me? There’s nothing there. Never was.
“As much as I’ve enjoyed getting drinks with you,” I start carefully, “I think it’s best if we keep our relationship strictly professional.”
Her expression falters, the carefully placed mask slipping just enough to reveal the frustration beneath it.
“Corbin, you can’t be serious,” she says, a note of incredulity in her voice.
“I am,” I make clear.
She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “That’s it, then? I don’t get a say?”
I force a measured breath. “I think you deserve someone who can give you more than I can.”
Susan stands, smoothing down the hem of her skirt, her chin lifting in defiance. “Biggest mistake of your life.”
I don’t flinch. Don’t react.
I watch her go, knowing she’s wrong.
She’s not even close.
***
“I’m heading out,” I say, sticking my head into my dad’s office.
The old man barely glances up from his computer screen, a cigar wedged between his teeth. The fading afternoon light casts deep lines across his ruddy face, making him look even more haggard than usual.
“Didn’t realize you were in today,” he grumbles. “Thought you’d be with Tate.”
“Jules had plans with him,” I lie smoothly. I hate lying, but it’s easier than telling him the truth. Easier than letting him know Tate got into a fight. That he’s struggling. That he wanted to stay with Jules instead of coming with me.
Dad would use that information like a weapon. He always does.
“About time she acted like a mother,” he huffs, standing from his chair.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, keeping my expression neutral. “I’ll see you Monday.” I start to back away, ready to escape before this conversation turns into something worse.
“Wait,” he calls out.
Damn it. I should have just left without saying anything.
“We need to go over last quarter’s numbers,” he continues.
“Can we do that next week?” I ask. “I have… plans.”
His bushy gray eyebrows lift with interest. “You and Susan grabbing drinks?”
I don’t answer, but that doesn’t stop him from launching into a speech.
“Now, that’s a woman who can help you reach the top, Corbin,” he says, his tone approving. “Hardworking. Always on time. Organized. Neat.”
And completely uninteresting. But I keep that to myself.
“Susan and I are just co-workers.”
Dad scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “Take her out. Have a good time. It’s been a while since you played the field. Don’t you think it’s time to enjoy some pussy again?”
My stomach turns. My ears burn. He’s always been crass, but it never gets any easier to stomach.
“After your mother,” he continues, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile, “I couldn’t get out there fast enough. Couldn’t believe what I was missing out on.”
I swallow hard. I remember those nights. The walls were thin, the women loud. Even with a pillow over my head, I could hear it all. Eventually, I started sleeping in the basement just to get away from it.
“I have things to do,” I say, keeping my voice even.
His laughter follows me down the hall. “Have fun, son.”
I don’t look back.
I push through the glass door and step into the cool afternoon air, gulping it in like I’ve been underwater too long.
My phone buzzes.
I check the screen before answering. Jules calling . Something that feels a lot like hope stirs in my chest as I answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dad!” Tate’s voice bursts through the line, bright and excited.
I swallow that hope down like sour milk. “Hey, bud. What are you up to?”
“Mom’s making cookies, so I’m playing with Igor.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “How’s your snake doing?”
“He stopped moving. I think he needs new batteries. Sarge said we had some in the back, but we’re all out.”
“I can drop some off,” I offer without hesitation.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m leaving work now anyway. I’ll swing by the store on the way.”
“Mom!” Tate calls excitedly. “Dad’s bringing me batteries!”
I hear Jules say something in the background, but it’s muffled. Then, after a pause—
“Corbin?”
I swallow hard. “Hey, Jules.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says softly. “I have some at home.”
“I’m already at the store,” I fib, gripping the steering wheel. “I’ll be there in ten.”
She exhales, something unreadable in the sound. “Corbin… it’s too much.”
“Igor can’t move,” I argue with a laugh.
There’s a beat of silence before she exhales again, but this time, I can hear it, the smile in her voice.
“I thought you preferred your snakes immobile.”
“Only the living, breathing kind,” I reply, shifting into reverse and backing out of my parking spot.
Jules chuckles, the sound soft, easy. Like it used to be.
“Alright,” she murmurs. “See you in a few.”
The line goes dead, but the cautious hope unfurling in my chest lingers.