Page 31 of Playing With Forever

“He’s a supreme ass. The end.”

Right. I’d save that for date number two.

“Is DJ short for something?”

Josie shifted her legs, and as she did, my palms glided over her soft skin.

Christ, she was killing me. The last thing I needed was a hard-on while we were discussing her son.

“Dameon Junior.” Her tone stated plain she wasn’t a fan of the junior part.

“I take it you didn’t want to name him after your ex?”

“No. I wanted to name him Bradley, but Dameon wanted a junior, and what Dameon wanted, he got. He was a spoiled child who turned into a spoiled man who eventually became prideful and mean.”

Just from that, her ex sounded like a dick.

She looked like she had more to say, so I gave her time to collect her thoughts. But I did it gently, grazing my thumb over the inside of her calf.

“I should’ve known, but I blame youth and inexperience. Dameon was a force—he walked into a room, and people naturally gravitated toward him. There was a time when I felt lucky he picked me. I was nineteen, away from home for the first time, testing out what it was like to be part of the cool kid crowd. Dameon was twenty-two, a senior, and at the time, I was caught up in the allure of an older boy who paid me attention. And before you ask, no, my dad wasn’t around much. Yes, I know with age and wisdom why I fell for Dameon.”

Josie shifted again, this time uncomfortably, and blew out a breath.

“I got pregnant. His parents demanded we get married. My mom was disappointed, but she wanted what I wanted. The problem was, I was scared, so I agreed to marry him. We stumbled our way through the first few years. I dropped out of school and worked in a school as an aide. Four years later, we had Kane. Dameon had a good job, he made great money, but I wanted to go back to school. Dameon’s mom watched the boys, when DJ started school, she kept Kane. By the time I graduated, DJ was ten and Kane was six, and I started teaching second grade at their school.” She paused and shook her head. “Are you sure you want to hear all of this?”

I gave her leg a reassuring squeeze and told her, “I want to hear whatever you’re willing to share.”

“Things were never great,” she started. “I thought I loved him. He was a good provider, he loved the boys, and he was involved, but with us, our marriage, there was no spark, no passion, no great love story. We were two people who shared a life, and it was better than average, so I thought that was it, that was just how marriage works when the kids are young and schedules are busy.

“The first time I caught him cheating, DJ was fifteen, Kane was eleven, and I was devastated. But I scrambled to fix our marriage. I didn’t want the boys to go through a divorce. I forgave him, and it went back to business as usual.”

She paused again, but this time there was pain, not anger, in her expression. I took one of my hands off her leg and reached out.

“Hand, baby.”

She immediately complied and went on with her story.

“The second time was a year later. Different woman, but another assistant from his office. This time, the boys knew because they were with me when I caught him. And, yes, we caught them in the act on my living room sofa when we came home early from Savannah because Kane got sick.”

Disgust at a father and husband rolled through me. What kind of fucked-up piece of shit cheats on another woman while legally and emotionally tied to another. And to make matters worse, in the home he shared with his children, on the very piece of furniture they sat on to watch TV.

“DJ was, well, he lost his temper and had some words with his father as he was pulling his pants on. I should’ve done something to shield the boys, but I was in shock. It was Kane getting sick that actually snapped me out of it. When I came back into the living room, the woman was gone, and DJ was demanding I kick Dameon out.”

Yep, he was a good man.

Protecting his momma.

“Did Dameon leave?” I asked.

“Only because the neighbor heard the shouting and called the police.”

Josie’s cellphone ringing drew her attention to the kitchen.

“Do you need to get that?”

“No. My boys have special ringtones, so I don’t have to jump to get my phone every time it rings.”

Smart.