Feels Like Home

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  So, tell me, Andy, what brings you here today?

  Well, gee, Jerry. See, my wife cheated on me, left me and our boys without a glance backward, which didn’t piss me off nearly as much as when I found out my pregnant-with-my-child girlfriend’s dead husband had an affair with my ex-wife years ago but had known for years that it had happened and never told me.

  Why was I so hung up on the fact that she kept that from me?

  Why did it feel like a betrayal?

  Why did I have to be such an asshole to her when she did tell me? Rather than just listen to her and try to figure out how to move forward.

  Did I really want to live this way? To find a way to live without Christine in my bed, in my life as nothing more than just the mother to my child? I decided I didn’t want to yesterday, but why am I still dragging my feet?

  The answer to every single one of those questions?

  Hell no.

  The decision I made when I discovered she knew about Heather’s indiscretions years ago as well as the accusations I placed on her that she could have possibly planned this entire relationship and pregnancy snakes its way through my veins, turning them hot then ice cold. Recognition of my mistake takes over, and I know I messed up royally.

  But I also know she deserves more than me just coming by in the middle of the night, begging for her forgiveness.

  I messed up and need to own up to it.

  The grand gesture.

  She’s worth it.

  And I know exactly what to do to prove that I’m all in.

  I just hope I’m not too late.

  34

  Andy

  I remember pretty clearly after Grady got in trouble for beating up Dawson who was getting a little too aggressive with Bri. It felt like the world stopped for a few minutes and nothing seemed right. And he isn’t even my kid. Though now, after getting to know Bri, I’m pretty damn grateful to Grady for doing what he did. But, what I remember most is that Barrett said to me then that it was one of the worst phone calls they ever imagined getting. That their son had been brought in to the police station. Because he’d been in a fight.

  Even though Aidan isn’t in jail, thank goodness, considering he’s just fourteen, a call letting me know my son was in a fight and is currently sitting in the principal’s office is not fun, either.

  I walk up to the office, and the secretary simply points to the principal’s office. The door is partially closed, and I can see Aidan sitting in a chair, his head leaned back against the wall behind him. The secretary gives me a sympathetic smile, and I nod once before trudging toward the door.

  This is not at all how I expected today to go. I planned on begging Christine for forgiveness, hoping that she’d understand my temporary bout with insanity, accept my apology, and after at least twenty-four hours of make-up sex, we’d all live happily ever after.

  Instead…

  I knock twice, even though the door’s slightly open.

  “Come in,” Principal Moore states gruffly. “Hey there, Mr. Simpson. Thanks for coming in.”

  I nod my head again and swallow. I wasn’t a bad kid growing up, but I did find myself in the principal’s office a few times, and even though I’m not the one in trouble now, it still makes my body break out into a sweat. I swallow hard, glancing over at Aidan, who rather than looking scared like I admittedly am, looks furious. His beat-up gaze focused on the person sitting across the room. He has dried blood by his nose and what looks like a pretty good shiner developing on his left eye.

  The other boy, who I’m assuming is the one responsible for the way Aidan looks, is holding an ice pack to his cheek but also looks just as roughed up as Aidan. His expression is one of fear, though. His, what I assume are his father and mother, are already sitting next to him.

  I clear my throat and take a seat next to Aidan, resting my elbows on my knees while I glance over at Aidan before focusing my attention back on the principal.

  “What’s going on, Mr. Moore?”

  I realize I can call him Patrick, considering we’re both adults, but like I said, being in the principal’s office makes me nervous and twitchy.

  “It seems we have two boys who aren’t ready to fess up.”

  “Care to explain what happened?” I raise my eyebrows at Aidan then look over at the boy and his parents, trying to gauge their mood, however they’re not giving too many clues away.

  “We’re waiting on one more person to arrive, but let’s go ahead and get started, shall we?” I wonder who else could be coming, but he continues before I can voice my question. “Boys, let me tell your parents what happened, what we heard from the other students. No interruptions, okay? I want to hear a response from both of you, but not until I’ve finished and it’s your turn.”

  “Yes, Mr. Moore.” Their response is instant and at the same time, reminding me of the no-nonsense leadership of Mr. Moore.

  “Good. Andy, Ben, Amanda. Obviously, your boys were in a bit of a fight today.” Amanda looks ready to start sticking up for her boy, but Mr. Moore raises a hand, and she relaxes back into her seat. “Let me finish, please. Neither of your boys have been in here for fighting until now. Before any of you start pointing fingers or blaming anyone, you need to know, it’s not as if either of them are in the habit of throwing a punch for no reason.”

  Before he can continue, there’s a subtle knock on the door, and the secretary pops her head in.

  “Mr. Moore. Christine Jameson is here.”

  “Send her in.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows and look at Aidan, who doesn’t look me in the eye. When the door opens all the way, I can’t help but swing my eyes to meet hers. I suck in a breath when our eyes meet, not having been this close to her in what feels like centuries. She quickly shifts her attention to Aidan, her eyes softening. Mr. Moore pulls another chair around, placing it on the other side of Aidan.

  She breezes past me, the scent of coffee and something sweet wafting over me.

  Before I can stop myself, I inhale deeply, hating that I’ve missed her scent almost as much as I’ve missed her. And I have. So much more than I expected to.

  “Hey, Patrick. How’s it going, old man?” she teases, earning a bright smile in return.

  “Could be better, Christine. What? No coffee?”

  “You have my boy in lockup and you expect me to bring you coffee? No way. You come in and pay for that.”

  I want to laugh at her natural banter with him, though he has been in our school system a long time and was Bri’s principal, too, but I’m a little stuck on the ‘my boy’ statement she made.

  A term that slid out her lips so easily that I know it wasn’t forced or fake.

  That came direct from her heart, and dang if it doesn’t make my heartbeat pound in my ears.

  She leans down and hugs Aidan, who returns it, and then looks at him closely, inspecting his injuries.

  Her dark hair is pulled up in a messy bun; she’s wearing a pair of black leggings, sneakers and one of my work hoodies that’s so big on her it covers her butt. And damn if she doesn’t look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her.

  After she settles into the chair, she reaches over and grabs Aidan’s hand.

  “Sorry I was late. Did you explain what happened?”

  “I was just getting to that,” Patrick tells her; a look of fondness and adoration crosses his face as he watches her. It has my fists clenching. She might not be mine anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with her being someone else’s either. Though I highly doubt that’s the look he was giving her.

  And I’m going to get her back.

  There’s no other option for me.

  I knew it after the six amigos hijacked my office with an impromptu intervention.

  I knew it the night I drove over to her house.

  But really, I knew it the second I walked away from her.

  “Get on with it, then.”

  He chuckles at her then stands to move around the front of his desk, lea
ning back against it.

  “Here’s what we’ve gathered from what the other students have told us, who witnessed the fight before Mrs. Lyons intervened.”

  “Dana pulled them apart?” Christine laughs, and Amanda starts giggling.

  “Oh, I bet she loved that,” Amanda agrees.

  “She’s probably been waiting all year for her chance to get in the middle of some catfight.”

  “Hey! It wasn’t a catfight! That’s what girls do! And… it should be known that she pulled my ear! And called me a punk!” Aidan says incredulously.

  Christine pats him on the arm.

  “Be lucky that’s all she did. She does Crossfit. She’s strong.”

  “She pulled me by the hair. I probably have a bald spot.” Amanda scrunches her eyebrows and stretches her neck, looking at her son’s head.

  “That would be a blessing to have that mop of hair cut off,” Ben grumbles to his son, and I have to choke back my laughter.

  “From the sounds of it, you were both acting like punks, so the term seems appropriate.” At the sound of my voice, Christine’s head jerks up, and she stares at me.

  “Actually, she calls me punk all the time. I think it’s her way of saying she loves me best,” Aidan says proudly with a cheeky grin, gaining our attention again.

  “Aidan,” I snap, and this time his smile dies, and he shifts in his seat. “We need to get back to the reason why we’re here.”

  “Right. Boys, from my understanding, one boy made some comments and the other boy didn’t stand for it. The ending result was they used their fists. Preston? Aidan? Would you like to expand on this?”

  Oh, this is rich. Of course, his name is Preston.

  I bite back the snort that’s threatening to escape.

  “Nope,” Aidan says, full of smartass.

  “Aidan,” Christine says quietly.

  He shakes his head at her, pleading with his eyes before mumbling, “Not worth it, Christine.”

  “I think it is. Care to explain to us?” I ask him, this time my tone is softer, less angry.

  He looks over to me and sighs then looks over at Preston, who narrows his eyes at him, glaring the best he can. Aidan rolls his eyes.

  “He said some bad stuff. I didn’t like what he was saying.”

  “What do you mean, he said some bad stuff?” Amanda asks, disbelief that her boy could do something wrong lacing her words.

  “It was nothing, Mom. Nothing that he didn’t know already. Everybody—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben interrupts.

  Aidan’s knee is bouncing up and down until he drops his head and groans. When he gains the courage to speak again he looks at me, the dejected look in his eyes breaking my heart. “He called Heather a whore, and that she’d probably love him better because his name was Preston, and he called Dad a loser who couldn’t keep his wife, and Christine…” He closes his eyes and balls his fist. He stands up, pacing the small room as best he can.

  “Christine what?” I roar, not being able to hide my anger. I hear Ben grumble, scrubbing a hand down his face, and Christine’s gasp, but I want to know exactly what’s been said about Christine. He’s right about Heather. Not that it’s right to call a boy’s mother that.

  “A what?” I ask again when neither boy respond. I look to Preston, who’s shaking his head and glaring at Aidan. I stand up, bracing my hands on Aidan’s shoulders to get him to look at me.

  Sad eyes meet mine, and I know whatever I’m about to hear is gonna piss me the hell off. “What was said, son?”

  He swallows then looks right at Preston when he answers me. “That Christine was just some replacement whore, and she wouldn’t stick around either because she couldn’t love us, just like our own mom couldn’t.”

  “Preston Michael!” Ben roars.

  “Oh please, like he said that,” Amanda scoffs.

  “Are you calling my son a liar?” Christine asks, standing from her place and making her way in front of Amanda at a shocking rate of speed.

  I move to stand slightly in front of her so she doesn’t do something she’ll regret. And by the looks of things, she’s about ready to rip Amanda’s hair out.

  I know I shouldn’t be turned on right now.

  Doesn’t mean I’m not.

  Pissed off Christine is hot.

  “He’s not even your son!” Amanda says, voice a little scared but also full of snobbery.

  Uh oh.

  Wrong thing to say.

  Ben shifts in his seat so he’s leaning away from his wife.

  “Are you saying I can’t love him like he’s my own?” Christine’s voice is low and scary even to my own ears.

  She takes a step toward Amanda.

  “I-I didn’t say that.”

  “So, parents who’ve adopted their children aren’t real parents?”

  Amanda slaps her hand on her knee and moves to step closer to her husband, who shakes his head lightly at her.

  Smart man.

  “Stop putting words in my mouth, Christine! You know what I mean!”

  “I certainly do not know what you mean. My son is a good kid. If he punched your kid, it sounds like it was well warranted. Where does a fourteen-year-old learn that type of behavior? Where did he hear those words about Heather? Huh? About his dad and me? It certainly wasn’t from Aidan himself. Because yeah, Heather left. It wasn’t because this boy isn’t lovable. I fell in love with him just as quickly as I did his father and his brother. Heather left because she knew she wasn’t worthy. To me, that makes her a hell of a lot better mom than someone who’s raising a son to spout off nasty things like that to another kid. Especially about something they know absolutely nothing about.”

  Oh damn. My eyes widen, and Ben coughs, seemingly uncomfortable not knowing if he should step in and stand up for his wife or just stay silent, since we all know in this case what Christine speaks is nothing but truth.

  “Patrick. I trust you’ll do something about this? Aidan. You can go back to class, right, Mr. Moore?” She’s confident and in charge in the small room, no one daring to look away from her.

  “Dad?”

  “You heard Christine, son. You want to defy her?”

  He shakes his head quickly, wide eyes turned my way. “No, sir.”

  “Mr. Moore?” Christine asks impatiently.

  He chuckles, probably not knowing what else to say at this point. “Nope. Me either.”

  “Amanda. I sincerely hope you learned from this experience. Ben? Always good to see you. Preston. Make smarter choices. Listen to your father.”

  And with that, she leans down and kisses Aidan on the cheek.

  “Christine…” I whisper, but she hears it. She shakes her head angrily at me, and I’m pretty sure those green eyes just shot fire in my direction.

  “Not now,” she whispers back.

  We all watch as she walks out the door, Reece standing on the other side of the office windows. Probably worried for his brother. As soon as he sees Christine, he runs to her, hugging her tightly. I wish I could hear what she’s telling him as she has her hands around his face. He nods, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek and he smiles up at her, like the sun rises and sets on her, and she makes her way back out to her car.

  “Well, she was rude.” Amanda truly doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.

  I raise my eyebrows at her, and Mr. Moore leans up and shakes my hand.

  “That’ll be all, Andy. Aidan. Get a pass and head back to class. Unless you need to head home with your dad.”

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  “What? Why do they get to leave?” Amanda’s whiny voice carries through the room.

  Before the door closes behind us, we hear the authoritative voice of Patrick Moore. “Amanda. Ben. Preston. Stay in your seats.”

  “I just don’t understand. Why was she there?”

  “Because I called her, Dad!” Aidan yells in defense, his face turning red and chest heaving up and down.

>   I didn’t go back to work after I left the school, rather came straight home. The boys got home from school an hour ago, but Aidan stormed into his bedroom the minute he walked in. About five minutes ago, I’d had enough and made him come out to the living room.

  Shockingly, he obeyed.

  We sat staring at each other for about fifteen minutes until I cracked. Not being able to hold in my frustration.

  “But explain to me why you would call Christine. Why not call me? You called her, but the school called me?”

  “Why does it matter? She was there for me. Just like I knew she would be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Forget it,” Aidan mumbles, beginning to walk away.

  I grab his arm and bring him back to me, making him sit down with me on the couch. “I won’t forget it, Aidan.”

  “Dad, I called her. She came. Because I wanted her there.” He shifts uncomfortably in his place, and I reach out a hand, touching his knee and shaking lightly to get his attention.

  “But not me?”

  “It wasn’t that,” he grumbles.

  “Kiddo. It’s me. You know you can talk to me.”

  He crosses his arms and glares in my direction. “It doesn’t matter. You left her. Like you care.”

  Ouch.

  I wish so badly I could explain to them why Christine and I aren’t together. Why I felt betrayed all over again when I found out that she knew for years that Heather had a one-time affair with her husband. What bothered me the most was that betrayal hit me in the gut harder than when I walked in on Heather having sex with another man.

  I guess if I were getting wishes granted, it would be that none of this ever happened in the first place. I’d wish that I wouldn’t be dealing with the knowledge that Christine is pregnant and I have no idea how I’m going to handle having a baby with a woman I’m no longer with. But wish I were. And still loved so deep down it’s rooted in my bones. A woman who, it seems, they still very much want in their lives.

  “I do care. But I care about you more. What’s going on with you? Why would you pick a fight?”