Mary throws the door open, and I scan the living room to get my first glimpse of Glenn the Prick, but there’s no sign of him. No sign of Aidan or Dottie either. Panic takes hold, and I experience a moment of pure terror before I hear a man’s voice coming from the kitchen. “I suppose if you consider this tea—”
“It’s a special blend, young man,” I hear Dottie say, “made expressly for you.”
“If you don’t like it, we could have hot chocolate instead,” Aidan says as Mary and I lunge through the living room and the attached dining room toward the kitchen. “But Mom’s not here to make it.”
“Because she’s out on her date,” the man sneers.
Mary and I reach the doorway, and Glenn comes into view, sitting on a chair at the kitchen table as if it’s his table. No doubt it was, once upon a time.
I’m not sure what I expected him to look like, but he’s about an inch shorter than me, with dark hair and a pinched-looking face. It’s the expression of a man who’s permanently displeased, or maybe I just think so because I already loathe him. Despite the fact that he’s presumably not here for work and his job is currently in Northern Virginia, at least seven hours away, he’s in a dress shirt and tie and still hasn’t taken off his dark gray wool overcoat. From the look he gives me, I gather he wore it for my benefit.
“With the ex-con,” he says, unnecessarily.
Aidan is sitting at the table, his hand and the zipper on his jacket shooting up and down in rapid succession. When he sees his mother, he bolts out of his chair. “Dad’s home. He came home, Mom.”
He doesn’t seem pleased about it, necessarily, more like he’s confused by the whole thing and isn’t sure how to feel, and who could blame him?
She gives her son a smile so tight it looks like her face will crack. “This isn’t Dad’s home, silly. This is our home. He’s just dropping by for a visit.”
She’s trying to keep her tone light, but there’s a sharp edge to it that I hope Aidan doesn’t pick up on.
Dottie is standing next to the small kitchen table, holding a teapot I didn’t even know Mary had. Did Dottie bring it with her?
“It’s late, Glenn,” Mary says, her back ramrod stiff. “You should have called before coming over.”
He rises from the chair slowly, as though he’s a man of importance, and something about the way he does it reminds me of Lester Montague. I have to grit my teeth against the desire to kick him out on his sorry ass.
“Mary,” he says with an air of familiarity. “You’ve never been one to go out on the weekends. You’re a homebody. Why would I need to call and see if you were here first?” The insult is wrapped in condescension, and my hands fist at my sides.
“Dottie,” Mary says in a controlled voice, “would you be so kind as to take Aidan to his room and help him put on his pajamas?”
“Of course, dear.” She shoots Glenn a dark look, then hurries over to Aidan.
“I don’t want to go to bed yet,” Aidan says, his voice rising. “Dad just got here. I haven’t seen him in three hundred and fifty-two days.”
I feel a twinge of pain for him. He counted.
“Maybe you can see him after you put on your pajamas,” I say, trying to hide my anger. Aidan can already sense the tension in the air. I don’t need to add to his distress. “In fact, why don’t you wear that new pair Mrs. Rosa gave you last weekend?”
She gave him a pair of pajamas with dancing cartoon ankylosauruses. Aidan wasn’t sure he liked them at first—not because they’re cartoons but because they’re dancing with brontosauruses. “It’s impossible,” he said in outrage. “They were in two completely different ages.” (How can this kid be so fucking smart? I didn’t even know that at thirty-five.) But he decided to let that go, and now they’re his new favorite. I knew that Mary washed them this morning and set them out to help with the sting of us going out without him.
Aidan’s hand is flying on his zipper now, but he doesn’t hesitate and immediately walks toward me, his little body tense.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Glenn snaps at me, seemingly oblivious to Aidan’s distress. “You have no right to tell my kid what to do.”
“Glenn!” Mary cries out. “Language!”
“Saying fuck around him is the least of my concerns,” he says as Aidan reaches me and moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
As much as I want to lay this guy out, Aidan needs me, and Mary is more than capable of handling Glenn on her own. After the hell he’s put her and Aidan through, I think she wants that, maybe needs it. I take Aidan’s hand and lead him to his room, even as he looks back at the kitchen, hearing Glenn the Prick lecture Mary on exposing her son to “that criminal.”
When Aidan and I are in his room, I shut the door.
“Are you a criminal, Jace?” Aidan asks, his zipper still flying up and down.
I sit on the edge of his bed and look him in the eye. “When I was twenty years old, I took something that wasn’t mine and broke it on purpose. It was a very bad thing to do, and I went to jail for it. But I’m sorry for what I did, and I never, ever hurt anyone. Just a car.”
He watches me with solemn eyes, and we can hear Mary and Glenn’s muffled shouting. He doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell he’s scared and close to a meltdown.
“Are you scared of me?” I ask, terrified to hear the answer. Still, I have to ask. If he’s scared of me, I’m the last person who should be in here with him.
He slowly shakes his head and whispers, “I didn’t feel right before you came back from dinner, but I feel better now. Even though they’re not using inside voices.”
I draw in a shaky breath, light-headed with relief that he trusts me but also eager to make this right for him. “Do you want to skip the pajamas for now and just get in your cool-down tent?”
He nods, then climbs in and sits cross-legged. I grab his noise-cancelling headphones from his dresser drawer, then lay his small weighted blanket over his lap.
His zipper is still going, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to lose it, thank God.
I lean over and kiss his forehead. “I love you, buddy. I’m going to make this right.”
Then I get up and head to the kitchen, shutting his door behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mary
When Dottie told me on the phone, I nearly slipped into an instant panic attack. I’ve spent all these months trying to soothe Aidan about Glenn’s absence. To help him believe that his father loves him even if he can’t, for reasons A, B, and C, see him for the time being. But I should have pulled off the Band-Aid months ago—because what the heck is a Band-Aid going to do for a broken heart?
My house no longer looks bright and cozy and festive. It looks small and cramped, like Glenn’s infested it with negative energy. Except my eyes follow Jace and Aidan out of the room, and maybe Dottie’s rubbing off on me, but it’s as if golden light is spilling from them, casting the Glenn poison away. Aidan trusts Jace. And Jace cares about him on a deep level that makes me want to weep from gratitude and wonder and joy. It’s then that I realize what should have been obvious. I love Jace. I love him.
“This isn’t like you, Mary,” Glenn chides. “Dating a criminal? Bringing him around the kid? You’ve always been sensible, if nothing else. It’s those sisters of yours, isn’t it?”
The kid?
Flames of rage lick at my insides. How dare he speak about Aidan like that?
Dottie snorts from her seat at the kitchen table, but my gaze is now firmly on Glenn. “We have an official separation agreement, Glenn, and you signed away your parental rights. You can’t just show up uninvited.”
He takes a step toward me, looking down at me—his signature move from arguments past. “You’re still my wife.”
I point to the calendar. “You’re right. I can’t send out divorce papers for precisely thirteen days. But don’t worry. I’ve already marked the day on next year’s calendar.”
; “We’ll have a party!” Dottie interjects. “Those sisters of yours will help me plan it.”
“What are you still doing here, anyway?” Glenn sneers, turning toward her.
“I was invited, dear,” she says, making it quite obvious that, in this one situation, she does not mean the endearment fondly. “Next time, you should try it.”
Maybe I should tell her to leave but, absurdly, I want her here. I like that this house is full of people who are on Team Mary. I like that I’ve changed enough to have a Team Mary.
“I’ll fight it,” Glenn says, his face red. “I’ll fight the divorce.”
I feel a wave of fear, because every part of me wants this to be over, but the rage returns, weaving through me, bolstering me. “Why?”
“What?” he sputters, his body swaying a little. He reaches for the wall and holds it. It’s weird, but he’s probably worked up too. There’s so much adrenaline in my body right now, I’m practically shaking from it.
“Why? Why would you fight me on it? Do you really want Aidan back?”
“Because you’re my wife,” he says, “and my mother told me what you’ve been up to. Took me all of fifty seconds to figure out the guy you’re slumming it with is a criminal. You did this to get my attention, didn’t you?”
I ignore the asinine comment and the barb toward Jace. “Do you really want Aidan back in your life?”
“He’s part of the package, isn’t he?” he asks. His body sways a little more, and he tightens his grip. “I looked it up, and there are boarding schools for kids like him. Maybe they’ll be able to straighten his head out. I’ve always said you’re too soft on him.”
White-hot rage pulses through me, and I’m tempted to lunge at him, to hit him, to do anything I can to make this worthless man hurt for talking about my son like that. But I fist my hands at my sides and force myself to stay back, because if I attack him, Jace will back me up. And if Jace lays hands on Glenn, then he really will be able to make trouble for us. No, the only thing I want from Glenn is for him to leave.
“You get the fuck out of here,” I say, my voice trembling slightly in the beginning but then firming up, “and don’t you ever attempt to contact either of us, ever again.”
His eyes widen, because I’ve never spoken to him this way before, but it doesn’t take long for him to recover. “No,” he says, giving me a smile that makes my stomach turn over. “I think I’ll let your boyfriend make me leave.”
He gives another slight wobble, his forehead creasing into a frown. Is he drunk? I don’t smell any alcohol on him, but who can say?
That’s when Jace emerges from Aidan’s room. His jaw is firmly clenched, and he stalks toward us like a lion. My lion, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let anything happen to him.
“Glenn, it’s time for you to go,” he says in a flat voice.
Glenn gives me an almost gleeful look, and I barely restrain the need to stomp on his foot. “What did you just say?” he asks Jace.
“I said it’s time for you to go. Now.”
I try to give Jace a stay several feet away from this asshole look, and I guess I’ve gotten more fluent in silent communications, because he plants his feet in the middle of the living room and stands strong. My heart swells. Of course he’s standing strong. He’s our champion. Just like I’m his.
“Is this your house?” Glenn sneers.
“No,” Jace says, “but it’s not yours either. And right now, there’s a very scared six-year-old boy sitting in his cool-down tent, and your yelling is only making things worse.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Glenn demands. He releases his hold on the wall, leaving the kitchen and taking several shaky steps toward Jace, obviously trying to rile him, but he stumbles a little, which underplays the delivery. “Don’t you try to tell me how to raise my son!”
“He’s no longer your son,” I say, following Glenn into the dining room. We’re getting closer to Jace. “Now, I’ve already told you to get out. I’m very sure Dottie didn’t invite you in—”
“I did not,” Dottie interjects from the opening to the kitchen. “You have very red energy, I’m sorry to say, and not the good kind. I noticed it at once.”
“That means you’re trespassing,” I finish. “Leave, or I’ll call the police.”
“You expect me to leave my son with this white trash criminal?” Glenn says, stepping out of the dining room into the attached living room. But he’s beyond foolish if he thinks he can rile Jace by going after him. No, he could only do that by going after Aidan and me.
Jace takes a step back.
“Jace has learned more about him in one month than you have in six years,” I say tightly, stepping toward them. “You never would have thought to bring him to his cool-down tent.”
Glenn scowls. “You’re goddamn right. It’s like I said—you’re coddling the kid, Mary. You’ve made him into a sissy.”
Something snaps in Jace, and he grabs Glenn’s shirt. “Don’t you ever talk about that boy like that again. He’s fucking amazing. You don’t deserve him. He’s too good for you.”
“What?” Glenn stammers. Then he glances at Jace’s hand clutching his shirt, and victory lights his eyes. “You assaulted me! I’m going to press charges!”
“He wrinkled your shirt,” I say. “And you’re trespassing.”
Jace releases him, and Glenn stumbles a little, lifting a hand to his head. That confused look passes over his face again, but he’s not done. He intends to rile Jace into doing the very thing he’s accused him of. “It’s my word against yours,” he says. “Who do you think a jury will believe? An upstanding businessman or an ex-con and his whore?”
The look on Jace’s face suggests he might be seconds away from actually assaulting Glenn, but I shake my head, and he clenches his jaw and stands down.
Glenn’s brow wrinkles, and he staggers a little on his feet. “I feel strange,” he says.
“Were you drinking before you came here?” I ask, baffled. I’ve seen many sides of Glenn—cold, detached, self-righteous, and angry—but he’s never acted like this.
“Interesting,” Dottie says, and I glance up to see she’s followed us into the living room. “I had no idea it would work so fast.” She removes a little notebook from her pocket and writes something down with the attached pencil.
“I’m just…I’m going to lie down on the couch for a minute,” Glenn says, and he stumbles over and does just that, barely making it to the edge before he sprawls onto it, face-first. He doesn’t move, although a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a snore escapes him.
Jace and I exchange looks of shock, because honestly, what the hell just happened? One moment, Glenn was threatening to ruin us, and the next he’s taking a snooze on my couch?
I span the short distance between us, and he wraps me up in his arms, his scent engulfing me and filling me with comfort.
“Is he asleep?” I ask in his ear. “I’m trying to figure out how much to freak out.”
He gives me a squeeze and then pulls back and pokes Glenn, who stirs slightly before settling again.
“This is truly a breakthrough, my dears,” Dottie says in obvious delight. “I couldn’t be more pleased.”
That’s when I make the connection. When we arrived, Glenn was drinking some sort of tea. Dottie’s tea.
“Dottie,” I plead, turning to look at her. She’s still scribbling, a wide smile on her face. Surely she wouldn’t be this excited about homicide. “You didn’t poison him, did you?”
She tucks the pencil into its loop on the notepad and looks up at me with wide eyes. “Now, why on earth would I do that, dear? It’s much better to let unpleasant people sow their own misfortunes. No, no. His energy was very red, like I said. I’ve taken to bringing my tea kit everywhere—you can’t imagine how many times it’s come in handy!—and I made him a calming herbal blend.” She tucked the notebook back into her pocket and clapped her hands. “It worked better than I coul
d have dreamed!”
He didn’t get the fight he wanted, true, except now he’s asleep on my couch, which means we are several steps farther away from getting rid of him. Plus, if he figures out what Dottie did, he can claim that he was drugged, even if nothing in Dottie’s tea was harmful.
Jace slides an arm around my waist. “We could dump him off at his hotel…if we knew where he was staying.”
It’s then a knock lands on my front door. I throw a wild-eyed look at Jace, my what-ifs working overtime. What if Glenn was so certain his little plan would work that he arranged for a police officer to show up? What if they find Glenn passed out on my couch and assume the worst? (Okay, Dottie did give him some sort of sedative, so they wouldn’t be fully wrong.)
“Should I answer it?”
“Dear, there are three cars in the driveway,” Dottie says. “I expect they’ll know someone is home.”
She seems completely unfussed by the whole thing, as if she doesn’t realize it might be frowned upon to give unwitting people sedating tea. Still, she’s not wrong. Someone, or rather three someones, is obviously home. I exchange a look with Jace, who gives a tight nod.
Turning back to Dottie, I ask, “Dottie, can you please check on Aidan? Make sure he doesn’t come out here.”
“Of course, my dear. I’ll have him sleeping in no time.”
I flinch. “Do not, under any circumstances, give him that tea.”
She waves a hand dismissively. “Oh no, I’d never do that. That tea is for people whose red energy is off the charts. Aidan’s energy is a lovely blue.”
I’m not totally comforted by that, but I’m running short on options at the moment.
Jace lifts a hand to my cheek. “If it’s someone looking for Glenn, let me talk to them.”
Jingle Bell Hell (Bad Luck Club) Page 31
