Break Point

by Rachel Blaufeld

  I breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in forever. It dawned on me, I’d never really shared these memories aloud. “She weighed seven pounds, four ounces at birth. Came out screaming like a banshee on July twentieth, demanding to eat. Took to my breast right away . . .”

  A moan escaped Drew’s mouth.

  “What? That’s how babies eat, King.”

  “I’m not grossed out. It’s just the thought of your nipple, hard and wet. It does something to me. And you should be thankful because I was a venomous asshole when I fell asleep last night. Somehow the thoughts of you caring for Darla have calmed my rage.”

  “Drink your coffee and be quiet. It’s food. Sustenance. Not a sexual endeavor. As for your temper, control it. You’re the one who left. Not me.”

  “Wait . . . is she a vegetarian?”

  “Nice way to change the topic. Yep, she is.” I wrapped my hands around my warm mug, a smug look on my face.

  “You’re gonna ruin her. Is she growing enough? On all those beans and sprouts?”

  “She’s growing just fine.”

  “So, you take her to the doctor and dentist and all that. Does she need braces? What about glasses? Her shots—does she have all of them?”

  “Whoa, now. I’m her mom. She goes everywhere she needs to go, eats everything she needs to eat, takes her vitamins. She still has her baby teeth, for Christ’s sake.”

  Drew semi-laughed while giving me a dirty look, and continued with his barrage of questions.

  We drank coffee and talked over breakfast as if we’d never missed seven years.

  Drew

  “So Darla’s at school?” I’d been asking nonstop questions since our food came. Jules had been mostly patient with me, except when I’d mentioned Darla’s last name.

  She nodded as we walked back toward the Southern and her car.

  “I still want to know more about her. What was she like as a baby? Demanding like now? Did you have help? Your mom?”

  Jules shook her head. “Gah, this is all too much. Do we have to do this now? We’ve wasted almost the whole day with your information gathering. And I don’t even have your phone number.”

  I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close. “We have time on our side now, but I want to know every detail. In the meantime, give me your phone.” When she handed it to me, I punched in my number and called myself. “There.”

  She pulled away from me and stopped. “We don’t have much time. Not now, not really any time. I work, and I have Darla. That’s been the story of my life for six years. I want more for her. College, a life. Speaking of which, I have to grab her from school soon and then work tonight. Bryce is letting me come in a little late because Dar’s teacher is letting her show me the class turtle today.”

  “Great. Let’s go.” I put my hand on her back and encouraged her to move.

  “I’ve been doing this a long time on my own, Drew. Six years, remember? My mom couldn’t commit to help either way, but it didn’t matter. I needed to leave Ohio and the memory of you.”

  “It’s just a turtle.” I took her into my arms, circling her in a hug in broad daylight for everyone to see. She’s mine.

  It was an invigorating feeling. Liberating. Something I hadn’t been able to do seven years ago.

  “How do you propose we explain your being there?”

  “Who cares?”

  “Me. Darla. Her teacher.”

  “We don’t owe anyone any explanations today, Jules. Darla, yes, someday soon. But let me just go meet the fucking turtle, okay?”

  She nodded into my chest, and I silently pleaded for her to place a kiss there. She didn’t.

  “You need to follow me there. I need to bring Dar home in my own car, though. I’m not changing my mind on that.”

  “Okay, my queen.”

  “Will you please stop with the cheese?” She punched my arm, but couldn’t hide the smile spreading across her face.

  “You want cheese?”

  I pushed her into her sedan and followed her, looming over her. My pelvis pressed against her stomach, my hardness making delicious contact with her softness.

  I ran my tongue up her neck. “I’ll give you cheese anytime you want it. Just say the word and I can be as corny and cocky as you want.”

  I’d said it laughing and gyrating, and even though it was a cornball move, Jules laughed too, her light giggle filling the air around us. Seeing her smile, I gave my pelvis another rotation.

  “Okay, enough, enough, corny and cocky.”

  I let her go and kissed the bridge of her nose. “As you wish, my queen.”

  “Oh God.”

  “No, king . . .”

  “Drew, come on. We have to go. Do you know the elementary school?”

  I shook my head. How the hell would I know the elementary school?

  “Follow me, okay?”

  “Forever and ever.”

  This got me an eye roll.

  And a smile.

  “Mom!” Darla bolted down the steps in front of her school. “Come on!”

  The bell had rung and kids were running around everywhere, looking for buses and parents.

  “Coach Drew, what are you doing here?”

  Darla pivoted in her hot-pink sneakers, her hand on her hip, questioning me as if she was Oprah. I couldn’t help it; I fell deeper and deeper for her incredible sense of confidence and running commentary.

  I was standing across from Jules with Darla in the middle as I watched Jules’s eyes cloud with hesitation. Her daughter might have been full of confidence, but Jules wasn’t.

  I made the decision to ad-lib. “You know what?”

  “What?” Darla turned to me, big blue eyes wide and her hair a wild mess.

  “Your mom and I knew each other back when she played tennis. We both figured it out the other day after the lesson. You’re new to town, and lucky for you, I’m not . . . so I get to show you around.”

  “Really?” Her smile spread wide and she started jumping up and down. “But you’re still going to teach me tennis?”

  “Yep. But first, I’m going to meet this turtle.”

  “Why don’t you lead the way, Dar?” Jules took our daughter’s hand but not mine.

  That’s okay. Baby steps. I was here, so it didn’t matter who held her hand.

  We walked back into the building, and Jules turned and mouthed thank you as we went through the door.

  “Hello there. I’m Ms. Green,” a short brunette said when we entered Darla’s classroom. “You must be Claire. And you are . . .” Her gaze pinged between Darla and me, circling back and forth a few times as she waited for an introduction.

  “I’m a friend. Drew.” I stuck out my hand and cut off Ms. Green before she said something Jules would regret.

  “Well, let’s show your mom and her friend our turtle, Raphael.”

  “Isn’t that like the movie?”

  “It is.” Ms. Green laughed, sliding her glasses on top of her head and sticking her chest out. She was feeling a vibe I wasn’t giving.

  “Mom, Mom, Coach Drew, look!” A medium-sized turtle crawled around inside the tank, miniature shrubbery flanking the perimeter. “Isn’t he cute?”

  Jules chuckled and nodded. “He is.” She swiped Darla’s hair behind her neck and twisted it into a knot.

  “Mom, leave it. Look at Raphael.” Darla swatted behind her at Jules’s hand. She was definitely my daughter. “I want one!”

  “Dar, you know we discussed this.”

  “I know.” Darla’s tiny body slumped, but she still glowed while watching the damn turtle.

  Looks like I’ll be buying a pet. Wish she’d look at me like that.

  Ms. Green leaned against the desk, the chalkboard behind her with a rainbow in the middle. “Darla has been a lovely addition to the class. I met most of the students at the end of last year, and they’re a nice group. I knew there wouldn’t be any problem introducing a new student.”

  “Thank you so much for
saying that. It hasn’t been too hard, the move . . . and she’s young and resilient.”

  “That she is,” Ms. Green said, looking at me.

  Uncomfortable, I stared at the colorful carpet. Did Darla and I look that much alike?

  I raised my eyes and looked at Darla’s profile. Yep, she was a mirror image of me but with her mom’s wild hair, its shade somewhere between Jules’s and mine.

  There was no way we could keep up this charade for much longer.

  Jules

  As Darla and I pulled away from the school, she was one big tumbleweed of words. Raphael, what turtles eat, and when they poop. Drew’s car was so cool. Ms. Green was so pretty.

  Yes, she was, and I couldn’t help but notice her making eyes at Drew. I wanted to say I wasn’t jealous, but I was. Terribly.

  At home, I made Darla an early dinner.

  “Mom, I don’t ever want to eat fish sticks. It’s like eating a cousin of Rafe’s. I’m a vegetarian like you.”

  “Darla, fish is actually good for you. It’s protein, and you need that for your brain. You know, some people are pescatarians. That’s the only source of animal protein they eat. Fish is so good for you,” I said, and Drew’s questions about Darla’s diet came back to me.

  What I hadn’t told him was the new doctor did suggest some additional protein for Darla, especially since she was so into tennis and needed it for her growing muscles. But I wasn’t about to reveal my shortcomings or failures to Drew or anyone else. I did the best I could.

  “I’m eating the broccoli. That’s healthy.”

  “Don’t fool me; you’re eating it because it tastes good. And that’s because I drizzled butter on it.”

  “Mom, please? I don’t want fish.”

  It was a lost cause. Darla was a stubborn as they came.

  “You need something more than buttery broccoli. How about some beans and cheese?”

  “Sure!”

  Just as the microwave dinged, signaling the cheesy beans were ready, my doorbell rang. Darla popped out of her chair and ran to answer the door.

  “Hi, Molly,” she said, then dashed back to the table.

  I gave Molly a wave. “Hey. I have to scat, but Darla is eating, and then she needs to do a half hour of reading practice before any TV. I know it’s Friday, but we can have fun all weekend.”

  “No prob, Claire.”

  Molly sat down next to Darla, and immediately the two started chatting as I gathered my things to leave for work.

  “ . . . and you know, my mom has a friend named Drew from when she played tennis, and he came to see Raphael.”

  Shit.

  Molly looked at me and raised an eyebrow. We’d only known each other a little more than a month, but she was the closest person to family I’d had in a long time.

  I shook my head and waved my hand as if Drew were nothing, not my baby daddy or anything like that.

  “I have to close tonight, so I’ll be late. Thanks, Molly.” I leaned over Darla’s head, breathing in her little-girl scent as I kissed the top of her head. “Love you, baby girl. See you in the morning.”

  Luckily, the Southern was jammed when I arrived, and I didn’t have a second to dwell on my day . . . until Drew sat down in my section close to nine.

  He was freshly showered, smelling like tea-tree oil and sex appeal. He sat with his hands on the table, his oxford shirt rolled up to the elbows and the top buttons undone. I couldn’t help but look more closely to see he was wearing jeans and a pair of scuffed Gucci loafers. It didn’t matter how hard he tried; he couldn’t shake the prep-boy image.

  The lunacy of our situation grew with every second I stood by his table, waiting for him to say something.

  “Do you want my usual Welcome to the Southern spiel?”

  He shook his head as he eyed me, his blue eyes narrowed on mine. Without a word, he licked his lips and continued to drink me in.

  “Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

  “I’m staring at you, taking in all that is Claire. To me, you’re the same, but all new. I miss the messy bun and the short shorts, but I’m just as intrigued by the competent woman you’ve become. Though, I’d like to do a few other things with that tie.”

  “I’m standing here in a tie and cheap slacks because I’m waiting to take your order in one of the most expensive restaurants in Palm Beach County. You can afford to eat here, but I can’t. I’d hardly say that reeks of competency. As for the tie, let all your thoughts fade away. That’s not even on my radar these days.”

  Did I just admit to being celibate? Gah, I’m such a flake.

  Not really. Drew was a well-educated, well-mannered, and wealthy man, and I was an emotionally stunted college-dropout single mom who waited tables to support our daughter and myself.

  “You couldn’t be further from the truth. But I’m not going to sit here and sing your praises. I’d rather whisper them in your ear on the beach, or over breakfast with our daughter.”

  “Listen, Drew, I have other tables. I have to get your drink order and move on.” I couldn’t stand there and listen to his promises—they were wishes and dreams to me.

  “Club soda, lime, New York strip, medium rare, broccoli, and a glass of cabernet with my steak. Send your runner and go do your thing. I’ll watch from a distance, and then I’ll drive you home.”

  “I’ll be back with your order, but you’re not driving me home.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I let out a long sigh and trudged off to the bar.

  Tonight couldn’t end soon enough.

  Drew

  With my monster hangover still looming, or perhaps it was just the realization I had a kid, I nursed my second glass of cabernet while waiting for Jules to finish.

  The ever-efficient “Claire” ran from table to table, checking on customers, making sure they were happy, and taking the time to smile and thank each one for coming to the Southern.

  Everyone but me.

  I didn’t care. I was watching the woman I’d pined for over the last seven years saunter back into my life.

  With hooded eyes, I watched her cash out.

  “I’m done for tonight.”

  She ran a hand along her smooth hair until it met the bun. I wished she would take it out, but she didn’t. I matched her moves, raking my hand through my own short hair.

  “I didn’t pay, so I guess you’re not finished.” I stood and reached in my back pocket for my wallet.

  “I treated you to dinner—which I plan to do every time you show up in my section, or this restaurant for that matter. You can’t just barge back in my life, involve my boss, and make promises to my daughter that I don’t even know if you know what it means to keep them.”

  She turned and headed toward the door.

  “Jules!” When she didn’t even turn around, I shouted, “Claire, wait.”

  “Let her go, buddy,” the manager called after me. Luckily, the place was empty except for a few employees now drinking at the bar.

  “Don’t tell me. You don’t know,” I spat back at him.

  “I do know. In fact, I’ve known Darla since she was just a month old. I always figured she looked like her dad, but it’s uncanny. So, don’t you tell me what I know and what I don’t know. Where have you been while I’ve been watching your daughter grow up?”

  He shouldn’t have gone there. I shouldn’t have cared what he thought. My body shouldn’t have filled with jealousy at his mention of knowing Darla since she was a month old, but it did.

  And I punched the ever-loving shit out of Bryce.

  My fist connected with his cheek, knocking him into a table, and glasses and silverware went flying. He was about to fall when I grabbed him by the throat, prepared to squeeze the life out of him.

  “Drew! Drew, stop . . . let him be. He didn’t do anything to you.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and released my grip.

  “Drew,” she whispered in my ear. “Come on, leave him.”

  I s
tood and shook my hand out. “Sorry, dude, but don’t ever disrespect my daughter or me. I wasn’t there then but I’m here now . . . and I’m not going anywhere.”

  I had to give it to the guy. He stood there with his cheek red and swollen, and stared me down.

  “Then don’t ever disrespect Claire again, you hear me? If you hurt her, you’ll deal with me. Feel me?”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Just mind your own business when it comes to my daughter.” I was part caveman, part papa bear. Some innate instinct I didn’t even know I possessed reared its head.

  “I’m taking you home,” I growled. “Claire . . . fuck it. Jules, let’s go.”

  Her tie had come undone, and her eyes were wary. She looked mad and . . . damn it, hot as hell. Fuck, I knew better than to let my mind go in that direction.

  She stomped out of the main restaurant and practically raced for her car. When she reached for the car door, I grabbed her by the waist and hauled her toward me. Turning us until my ass was leaning on her car and she was wedged against me, I kept a tight hold on her waist.

  “I don’t know what I need to do,” I told her, “but understand this. I’m not going anywhere. I know I have to take it slow with Darla, but let me be clear . . . I’m only going so slow for so long. I didn’t know I had a family, but now that I do, I’m getting it back. For good.”

  When she eyed me like I was the devil, I said, “Now, come on. I’d rather you didn’t work in this job, but you do, so I’m driving you home.” I took her wrist gently and led her to my car.

  “Drew, this is absurd. I’ve been doing this for six years. I don’t need you to protect me, and what about my car?”

  “We’ll get it tomorrow when you wake up and after I go to the gym. Then we can take Darla out for pancakes.”

  “What about me? My life? My job? Everything I’ve built?”

  “Life as you know it, babe, is over. What you’ve built on your own is awesome, but what we’re going to build together is going to be even better.”