Chapter 8 #3
“And how is that?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
No matter how careful I am not to stare at her too long or too longingly, I can’t help that I’m enamored.
“Like you want to spread her on a piece of bread and eat her.”
Yeah, okay, I can’t deny that, necessarily.
“I understand the situation, the boundaries. I get it,” I tell her, hip-checking her to get to the coffeepot myself.
She mutters the word asshole under her breath, but grins. Jules misses me as much as I’ve missed her.
“I’m attracted to her, sure. We barely know each other, though, and she’s going to need a lot of time.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” she says sweetly. “Luke’s going to help her get her money moved, which will free up options for her. There’s no guarantee she’ll stick around.”
“That’s great,” I say, though the thought turns something in my gut. I’m not ready for her to leave.
“Anyway, fill me in on you. What’s the latest with trying to get a new custody agreement?”
“It’s as frustrating as everything is with Brenda. She asked for more child support, which I used as a tool to renegotiate, since I didn’t feel like I got a fair deal in the original agreement. This lawyer is more expensive, but he has a great track record.”
“I thought when fathers actually fight for custody, they usually win,” Juliet says.
“Yeah, well, turns out, Brenda might have had a connection to the judge who handled the divorce.”
“No fucking way.”
“That’s the story, anyway. We’re pushing for a reversal, which would give me primary custody. It’s a long shot. I don’t want to get my hopes up.” It would be the best fucking news, though.
Paige loves it here. While she has friends in Portland, she doesn’t love city living and cramped spaces. Brenda’s place is a condo just outside downtown. It doesn’t allow my girl’s free spirit to roam in nature like it does here.
“Would Brenda ever agree to that?”
“Not without a payoff, I’m sure. I don’t know,” I say, rubbing my forehead because the subject gives me a stress headache every time I have to discuss it. “She has that new man, and it sounds serious. Paige heard him say he doesn’t want kids.”
“Paige shouldn’t have had to hear that,” Juliet says, her brow creasing with annoyance. “Maybe it’s enough to tip the scales, though, since Brenda has always been selfish as hell.”
“We can hope,” I say. “How did I miss that about her? I thought I knew her, you know?”
Brenda was fun, lighthearted, always up for anything.
If I woke up one day and wanted to go hike a mountain, she’d have been as excited as if I suggested we went to some fancy five-star resort.
It was something I thought we had in common, an adventurous spirit.
I’ve come to realize she pretended a lot.
So much in our earlier relationship was for show, while the real her waited to show herself until after we were married.
“She did her best work when you weren’t looking,” Juliet says, confirming my thoughts. “I tried to tell you.”
“I know you did, but you’re a brat. It’s hard to take you seriously.”
Juliet laughs and places her hand on my shoulder, a silent support that tells me she’s sorry things turned out the way they did. My kind, fierce friend. I wish she’d move home.
“You know who I heard was back in town?”
“Who?”
“Mac.”
“Mackenzie is back?” She turns away from me, pretending she needs to refill her mug.
She doesn’t. What she wants is to hide her reaction from me, as if I don’t know that he’s the only man she’s ever been in love with. If I said that, she’d deny it. Juliet’s best talent is lying to herself about Mackenzie Dane.
“Rumor has it. I haven’t seen him.”
“Why would he come back to Stowaway?” She brings the mug up to her mouth, blowing the steam into a tiny tornado.
“His dad is sick, I think. He hasn’t looked good for a while, now,” I tell her.
“Oh, no. That’s sad, his dad was always great to us.”
He was. We often gathered at Mac’s house as teenagers because his dad was more laid-back than most of the parents. I think he enjoyed the noise and chaos we brought with us.
“Maybe you could stop by while you’re here,” I slyly suggest.
“Maybe you could mind your own nonexistent love life instead of meddling in mine,” she snarks back.
“How do you know it’s nonexistent?”
“Because you think you have a shot with the famous woman next door. No woman wants a delusional man.” Her words could assassinate, except her smile is disarming.
“Just how famous is she?”
“She’s not a household name like Gigi Hadid.”
“Who?”
“Oh my God,” she says, rolling her eyes at me. “Anyway…she’s not at the tippy top of the highest paid models, right now. She’s only a tier or two down, though. Everyone wants her in their shows and in their clothes. Especially the couture designers.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I say.
“She’s wildly successful and is quickly becoming missed.”
“Missed enough to keep her safe from her ex?”
“Unfortunately, he’s even more successful. And sadly, as much as fashion should rule its own industry, it seems fame wears the crown.”