Chapter Eight
Corbin
He’s looking at her like he just hit the damn lottery.
And I hate him for it.
Because I know exactly what it feels like to sit across from her, to have her full attention, to be the reason she smiles. And now, I’m the guy standing on the outside, watching someone else take my place.
I hate being that guy.
Tate launches himself into Jules’ arms, wrapping himself around her like he never wants to let go. She presses a kiss to his temple, whispering something I can’t hear, and he melts into her. My chest tightens. He really loves his mom.
How is he going to handle her dating?
Has she been dating? She’s never brought anyone around Tate. Not that he’s ever mentioned it. And Tate talks. A lot. If she had, I’d know. Which means this is either new or something she’s been hiding.
“It’s been so long, Corbin,” she had murmured against my skin that night. “I miss the way you feel.”
At the time, I assumed she meant sex in general. Not that her sex life outside of this past week is any of my business. But maybe she wasn’t talking about sex at all. Maybe she was talking about me.
I don’t know which thought I hate more.
My feet feel cemented to the floor.
Every instinct tells me to turn around and walk out the door, but I can’t. Not with Tate standing right there.
So I force myself to move, closing the distance one slow step at a time. Jules watches me the whole way, her expression hard to read. I wish I knew what she was thinking. If I had to guess, I’d say she looks… guilty.
Does she remember that Sundays used to be our day? That we should be together right now? That instead of sitting across from some random guy, she should be with us ?
But the truth hits like a gut punch. I have no right to feel this way.
It’s not her fault. It’s mine.
I let her go. I made the choice that put us here.
If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.
“Did you know we’d be here?” Tate asks, his voice filled with curiosity.
“No, bud,” Jules answers softly, finally tearing her gaze away from mine. She smooths a hand over his blond hair, an automatic, comforting gesture. “I didn’t.”
Tate shifts his attention to the guy sitting across from her, his little nose scrunching in confusion.
“Who are you?” he asks bluntly.
Before Trey can answer, Jules steps in. “This is Trey. He’s a new friend of mine.”
New. I catch that. It sticks to my ribs like something I can’t quite swallow.
“Nice to meet you,” Trey says, holding out a hand, his expression easy, too damn friendly.
Tate looks at me for guidance, searching my face for an answer. Should he shake it? Ignore him?
“Go on, Tate,” I say, keeping my voice even.
He gives Trey’s hand a quick, disinterested shake before turning back to Jules. “Mommy, why are you here with him?”
Jules licks her lips nervously, avoiding my gaze altogether. “I’m just having dinner with a friend, bud.”
But Trey’s expression says otherwise. The way he watches her—like he’s picturing where this night might lead—makes it painfully obvious that friend isn’t the role he’s hoping to play.
I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to stay loose. “We should grab our order, bud,” I tell Tate. “Let Mom get back to her dinner.”
Tate’s face falls. “We can’t stay and eat with Mom?”
I shake my head. “Not tonight.”
“You should stay,” Trey says, cutting in.
Jules and I both snap our gazes toward him.
“It’s okay, really,” I reply, even though every part of me is screaming that this is not okay.
Before I can steer Tate toward the counter, he climbs into an empty chair between Jules and Trey, making himself comfortable. Great.
“Dad,” Tate says, pointing toward the register, “go see if Kona has our pizza ready.”
I click my tongue, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. I’ll go do that.”
And with that, I turn on my heel, needing a second to breathe before I do something I’ll regret.
I hear Trey firing off a million questions as I make my way over to Kona.
“This is awkward,” the restaurant owner says, eyeing the table behind me.
I groan. “You could say that again.”
“I remember when you two started coming in here, what? A decade ago,” Kona muses, his tone light with nostalgia. “Now? You’re showing up at the same dinner spot, except she’s with someone new.”
I take the pizza box from him along with a few plates. “The irony is not lost on me.”
Kona smirks. “I’ll send some extra garlic knots over to the table.” Then, he’s gone, leaving me standing here like an idiot.
I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to sit at that table and make nice with some guy who looks like he’s seconds away from staking a claim on Jules. But I do.
Because I love my son.
I squeeze behind Jules to get to the only open seat against the wall. The brush of my pants against her shoulder is completely unintentional. Mostly. But when her breath catches and her eyes flick to mine, it’s like she’s daring me to do it again.
I don’t.
Because I love my son.
“Dad got us half and half,” Tate tells Trey. “I like cheese, but he and Mom like Canadian bacon and pineapple.”
Trey nods, like he’s storing the information away for later. God, I hate this guy.
I slide a slice of cheese onto a ceramic plate and hand it to Tate, who takes a big bite before turning back to Trey.
“Did you know snakes sleep with their eyes open?” he asks.
Trey scratches the back of his neck, clearly thrown. Well, what’d you expect, dumbass? You’re the one who invited us to stay.
“I didn’t know that,” Trey replies.
“They don’t have eyelids,” Tate continues, launching into a full-on animal fact lecture.
Jules shifts beside me, clearly over it. When I glance at her, she’s looking at me like this has been the longest, most excruciating five minutes of her life.
For some reason, that makes me smile. I try to hide it, but she catches the way the corner of my mouth lifts, and her eyes narrow at me in playful warning.
“So,” Trey asks, still trying to keep up, “if they sleep with their eyes open, does that mean they can see everything going on around them while they’re asleep?”
Tate shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not a snake.”
“Tate.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he mumbles before adding, “I’m not sure.”
I fight another grin, but Jules sees it anyway. And judging by the way she bites her lip, she’s fighting one too.
For the first time tonight, I don’t totally hate that we’re here.
Jules shifts again, her leg bumping into mine under the table. God, this table is small. There’s nowhere for our knees to go except against each other. I wait for her to pull away, to make space. She doesn’t.
She just lets it rest there.
I really should not have sat down.
But I did.
Because I really, really love my son.
“How did you meet my mom?” Tate fires off another question, eyes locked on Trey. “I’ve never seen you at the coffee shop before.”
“Tate,” I interject. “Eat your pizza so we can head home.”
Jules looks at me, her hazelnut eyes stormy. “You’re not eating?”
“I’ll eat when I get home,” I say, keeping my tone even. Like I originally planned.
“Where did you get that bruise on your face?” Trey makes small talk.
“I got into a fight with Lance Yeardley at school because he told me Mom and Dad hate each other,” Tate explains with way too many details.
Thankfully, Kona appears with a plate of garlic knots, ending that conversation as he sets them in the center of the table. Garlic knots? On a first date? Jules definitely has no plans on kissing this guy later.
Good to know.
“Dad, give Mom a slice of your half,” Tate insists, nudging the pizza box toward me.
“I’m fine, bud,” Jules says quickly. “I’m going to share the one I ordered with Trey.”
Tate’s nose wrinkles. “What kind did you get?”
“Pepperoni, sausage, and peppers,” Trey answers easily.
I smirk behind my hand. Yeah, there’s no way in hell she’s kissing him now.
“Mom doesn’t like peppers,” Tate laughs. “She says they’re almost as bad as ant-cho-vees.”
“Tate,” Jules warns gently. “Be nice, please.”
“I am being nice,” Tate defends himself. “I just don’t know why you’d eat that when Dad got your favorite.”
Correction: our favorite.
“She’s trying something new,” I say, the words burning my throat on the way out. “It’s okay for her to venture out of her comfort zone.”
Jules glances at me then, something flickering behind her eyes. But I keep my expression neutral. Even if saying it out loud sucks, maybe she does need to see what else is out there. Maybe she needs to realize, on her own, that I was the right choice all along.
Because if she doesn’t?
I can’t do this again, Corbin. I can’t sit with him at night while he cries for you like he did the first year after we split. I can’t be the one wiping his tears and making excuses for why his dad isn’t there.
Her words haunt me, looping in my head as I watch Tate process the entire scene around him. He’s still grilling Trey for information. Jules’ leg is still pressed against mine. Kona, standing behind the counter, is enjoying every second of the train wreck unfolding before him.
“Garlic knot?” Jules asks, reaching for a plate.
I glance at Trey, who’s busy explaining his job as a tattoo artist. Huh. Didn’t see that one coming.
“I’m good,” I say, then arch an eyebrow at her. “Garlic knots, though?”
Jules rolls her eyes. “I have gum in my purse.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna mask the smell.”
Her lips part slightly in offense. “Yes, it will.”
“You sure about that?” I challenge as she picks up a garlic knot and takes a slow, deliberate bite.
“Totally sure,” she murmurs, swallowing. I watch the movement, her throat bobbing the same way it did when she was straddling me in my bed, palms against my chest, hips rolling, her head falling back as she—
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
My gaze flicks to Trey, but he’s completely oblivious to Jules and me, too caught up in whatever Tate is saying. My hand slides under the table, finds her leg.
Her breath hitches.
I brush my thumb over the material on her thigh, slow. Purposeful.
“Just remembering,” I murmur, locking eyes with her.
Jules swallows hard, then reaches for her beer, but I don’t miss the way her fingers tremble slightly against the glass.
And for the first time all night, she doesn’t look like she’s so sure about anything.
I pull my hand away from her and cross my arms over my chest. Tate has maybe three bites left before we can get the hell out of here. Thank God.
“So, what do you do for a living?” Trey asks, directing his attention toward me.
Before I can answer, Jules cuts in smoothly, “He works for his dad.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan, shooting her a look, but I don’t miss the way her lips curl into a smirk.
“Account executive,” I clarify. “Advertising.”
Trey nods. “Oh, so you sit behind a desk all day?”
“Sometimes.”
“I couldn’t do it, man,” Trey says, shaking his head. “I’d get so bored.”
Yeah? Try raising a kid and making sure he has everything he needs.
“Well,” I reply, keeping my voice even, “when you have a mortgage, health insurance, a kid to feed, and new clothes to buy every six months because he won’t stop growing, you don’t get the luxury of complaining about boredom.”
Trey chuckles. “I just couldn’t do it.”
And yet, here you are trying to date a woman whose entire world revolves around the kid I provide for.
“Yeah,” I mutter, pushing back from the table. “Working a nine-to-five is a real buzzkill.”
Jules gnaws on the inside of her cheek, a sure sign she’s uncomfortable.
“Well,” I say as I stand, “we really do need to get going. Tate has school in the morning, and I have a boring job to prepare for.”
Jules stands too. “I’m going to walk Tate out.”
Trey nods, then turns to me, extending his hand. I take it, if only because Tate is watching. “Nice to meet you,” Trey says.
“Yeah.” I raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “You too.”
I nod to Kona on my way out, then step into the cool night air. Jules already has Tate settled in the car and is waiting for me.
“Well, that was awkward,” she says with a half-hearted smile.
“I wouldn’t have ordered from here if I knew you were going to be on a date.”
Her smile disappears. “I know.” She crosses her arms, shifting on her feet. “I should go with you to drop him off at school tomorrow. It’s his first day back after the… fight.”
I open the passenger side door, setting the pizza down before glancing at her. “Let’s play that by ear.”
She frowns. “Why?”
I motion toward the restaurant. “You have a date. If it goes well, you might be… indisposed in the morning.”
Her eyes flash. “I’m not sleeping with him.”
I bite back the sharp retort threatening to slip out. Instead, I level her with a look. “I didn’t say you were. I just don’t want to tell Tate you’ll be there if you won’t be.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’ll meet you at the house at 7:30.”
I nod once. “See you then.”
I start to step around her, but her hand presses against my chest, stopping me.
“Jules.” It’s not a question. Not a statement. Just her name , hanging between us.
“It’s not fair,” she says softly.
I glance down at her. “What’s not—”
“You’re not making this easy on me,” she interrupts. “I… I’m trying to figure out what I…” She trails off, her lips parting like she’s searching for the right words.
My chest tightens. She’s trying to figure out what she wants. But I remember ten years of us. Every fight. Every kiss. Every whispered promise that neither of us kept.
I exhale, my hands finding her waist, tugging her closer. She doesn’t resist.
I press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second longer than I should. “Maybe you do know what you want,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her skin. “But you’re too afraid to admit it to yourself.”
Her breath catches. I could close the space between us. Could kiss her the way I want to. Could remind her of everything she’s trying to forget.
But I don’t.
I step back, walk around to the driver’s side door, open it, and slide inside.
Because if I’m ever going to fight for her—if I’m ever going to convince her to let me back in—she has to decide if she’s ready to face the truth.
And I’m not sure she is. Not yet.