Chapter 28 Rourke
TWENTY-EIGHT
Rourke
I’m standing in the hallway outside Janie’s classroom, gripping two Styrofoam cups of coffee so tightly, I’m surprised I haven’t busted them. I made them in the teachers’ workroom to give myself something to do so I wouldn’t break down Janie’s door, where she’s talking with her ex.
I want to storm in there and drag him out by his overpriced collar, but Janie stopped me with a hand on my arm, saying, “Let me handle it. I need to do this myself,” before turning around and closing the door.
So here I am, trying to respect her wishes while I physically restrain myself from kicking down the door and punching the man.
I know she promised to fill me in later, but patience isn’t exactly my gift.
So I shift a little closer to the door—not to eavesdrop, obviously.
Just to, you know, be supportive. Really, I’m only standing here for her.
If a few syllables happen to float through the door and into my ears, that’s a total coincidence and not my fault.
As I drain my coffee cup, that’s when I hear her ex speak up.
“I need to talk to you about Aria’s Christmas schedule,” Nick says in that fake-polite voice that grates my nerves. “I want my time with her too.”
“You can have time with her,” Janie says, obviously irritated. “But why are you asking now? You haven’t asked for time with her all year.”
I know Janie well enough to sense when she’s worried; I can hear a faint hint of it now.
“Janie, this is her first Christmas,” he replies. “I want to be there for it.”
“You want Christmas?” Her voice nearly breaks on the word.
I know what Christmas means to Janie. I’ve seen how much she’s poured into the pageant. She lights up talking about it. And now this guy’s waltzing in at the last minute, finally deciding that he wants to be a dad.
Or maybe he’s just bitter that I’m doing the job he walked away from.
“I already planned to spend Christmas with my daughter,” she adds.
“You mean our daughter,” Nick corrects. “I haven’t had any quality time with her, Janie. I deserve to spend the holidays with Aria.”
“Then maybe try paying your child support first,” Janie snaps. “You don’t get to show up for the holidays when you’ve missed a year of her life.”
“That’s my girl,” I mutter under my breath before Nick interrupts.
“Is that how you want to play this? Because if you’re going to withhold time with my daughter, I’ll see you in court.”
“I’m not withholding anything, Nick.”
“You really think a judge will side with you?” Then he laughs at her, and the sound makes my fists curl.
“You’re a single mom, Janie. You have a hockey player living in your house. And then you block me from seeing her on Christmas? That’s not going to go over well in court.”
“Is Lia okay with it?”
“Yeah, but I probably should tell you our news…” Nick pauses.
What news? I tilt my head, waiting for the bomb to drop.
“Lia and I are engaged now. I asked her a week ago.”
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard, it throbs.
Of course he’d do this now. He just dropped the classic “Look how much I’ve moved on” maneuver to twist the knife in the one woman who deserves peace more than anyone.
Sure, why wouldn’t he go for the full trifecta? Show up unannounced, demand Christmas with Aria, and then toss out his engagement to the woman he cheated with. Guy’s really swinging for “Worst Ex of the Year.”
I try to peek through the narrow window, but I can’t see her.
Is she shocked? Crushed? Does she need me?
Because I won’t let this man do any more damage.
“So is that why you suddenly want Aria in your life?” Janie fires back. “Because Lia finally approves now that she has a ring on her finger?”
Janie’s still holding her own. But part of me wants to tear that door off its hinges anyway. Not because she can’t handle him—she clearly can—but because I hate that he gets to be in that room with her and I don’t.
Nick exhales. “I just had to make sure Lia didn’t feel like she was second place in my life.”
Janie scoffs. “But it was fine when I was second during our marriage.”
Nick doesn’t respond and I want to pump my fist in victory. Score one for Janie; zero for Nick. Because he took her trust. He took her firsts. And now he’s standing in there like some reformed family man, throwing around phrases like “our daughter” and “quality time.”
I may be the one in the hallway, but make no mistake—he’s the outsider here.
And if he thinks he can threaten the woman I love and get away with it, he’s got another thing coming.
“I thought you’d be over it by now, Janie,” he finally says. “You need to let it go.”
Seriously? He cheats on her, walks away, skips out on his daughter—and she’s supposed to be over it?
Janie gives a humorless laugh. “You were married to me for two years, and I thought we were happy. And the whole time you were seeing my friend behind my back. Sorry if I’m not over it yet.”
“Hear me out,” he says, his voice lower. “I want Aria to be a part of my life. I should’ve been there from the beginning, and I wasn’t. Now I need to make up for lost time. Especially since you’re living with some random guy…”
“For the last time, it’s not like that,” she snaps. “And it’s none of your business anyway.”
“It is when it affects my daughter,” he says, the edge of his tone sharp. “I don’t want him touching her.”
The way he throws that remark in her face infuriates me.
“When Aria was born, I begged you to be involved,” Janie says. “You told me you didn’t have time. You showed up for a half hour with a Starbucks gift card and disappeared again.”
“I know that.” He’s trying to sound apologetic now. “But this isn’t about our past. This is about what’s best for Aria now. She deserves to have her father in her life.”
The words make my stomach churn. Because he might’ve failed her, but in the eyes of the law—and maybe in Aria’s heart—he’ll always be her dad.
I hear Janie gathering her things. “This is over.”
“Janie,” Nick pleads.
“The answer is no,” she says firmly. “I won’t give up Aria for Christmas. And who I date is none of your business.”
“Okay, then could we compromise?” His voice shifts. “I want to be with her on her first Christmas just as much as you. We could spend it together—as a family.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Janie says without hesitation.
“Why not? Because of your rebound?”
“Rourke is not a rebound.”
“Isn’t he? Come on, Janie. We both know you could never make it work with someone like him. You’re not even athletic. Let’s face it, if I hadn’t left you for Lia, you’d still be married to me.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever trust you again,” she says coldly. “Rourke is ten times the man you’ll ever be.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” he says, his voice sharp. “Because no judge is going to look favorably on a mother who chooses her boyfriend over her daughter’s father.”
“Wait…you’re threatening me?” She sounds shaken.
I freeze, thinking about how devastated Janie would be if this went to court.
“I’m telling you how this looks. I’ve got lawyers, Janie…”
“Leave now,” Janie says quietly.
“Think about it. Every time he travels for a game or there are any problems in your relationship, that’ll just build my case. We’re talking months of legal fees. Can you really afford that?”
“I’m not discussing this anymore.”
There’s the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, then footsteps.
“I’ll be in touch about Christmas,” Nick says. “And if you’re smart, you’ll make the right choice for Aria’s sake.” He opens the door a crack and I quickly duck around the corner. “Oh, and, Janie? This thing you have with Rourke? It’s a liability. I hope you know that.”
His footsteps fade down the hall, and I’m left standing there with a horrible realization.
Nick’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants. He’s going to drag her through an expensive and lengthy legal battle, disrupting her life and creating months of stress.
As much as I want to go in there after she defended me, the truth is settling into me like a slow poison: I’m the tool Nick will use against her.
Every time something happens between us, he’ll twist it to make her look bad. And eventually, some judge might decide that a stable father is better than a mother whose boyfriend travels constantly and grew up in a home with an alcoholic father.
I can’t let that happen. I won’t let me be the reason she ends up in court.
Before I leave, I send her a text message. “I have to go. Team meeting.”
My finger hovers over the screen, wanting to add more, but I don’t. Instead, I set the second coffee cup on the bench outside her classroom.
Because the best way I can protect her is to remove myself from the situation.