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“Actually, it’s pretty close.”
“See, I always think I’m fooling people, and there you go, seeing into my soul.” He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I double down by turning mine over and interlacing our fingers. “Can I ask you something since we’re doing this?”
“Sure.”
“Is it going to be okay for you and Scout after the hearing if I leave and you’re here raising him on your own? I don’t want to give Elizabeth ammunition to come at you again.”
He nods. “Thank you. Yeah, he’ll start kindergarten in the fall, so longer school days. We’ll manage.”
Our eyes meet. I catch something in his—regret, sadness, resignation. Then his normal focus returns.
Letting out a sigh, Luke puts his hands on the table and pushes himself up to stand. “Okay. If you want to learn, I’ll teach you.” He looks toward the bag and back at me. “Now will you tell me what you’re making for dinner?”
“Um, okay. Enchiladas.”
“Enchiladas,” he confirms, seeming satisfied that I’m keeping up my end of the deal. “Come on.” He motions for me to follow him out to the pasture. “We’re going to start with the basics, cows and their diets.”
I stash the perishables in the fridge and trail behind him, surprised that my lesson seems to be starting now. “So not just grass?” I ask.
He shoots me a scowl over his shoulder, but it’s actually half a smile. “You’ll see.” I watch his hot ass in those dark jeans, thinking I’d follow him all over the pasture just for the view. And because he knows I’m staring, he gives me a little waggle.
Most guys don’t surprise me, but this one sure does.
CHAPTER 24
Luke
Elizabeth and her husband arrive at my house a half hour late to pick up Scout for the “makeup graduation,” as though that’s a thing. The woman couldn’t bring herself to drive up here for the actual graduation, so she proposed taking Scout for an entire day of “fun” to make up for it. I felt like it would look bad at the custody hearing if I denied her.
But I’m far from happy about it. Just like I hate the monthly visits I agreed to six months ago when I thought it was a good thing that she finally wanted to spend time with our son. Little did I know she was laying the groundwork for a full attack, using every little tale Scout told about late bedtimes and midnight snacks against me.
Elizabeth breezes through my house, looking around and no doubt noticing imperfections and committing them to memory to use against me in court. Wilting plants? “If he can’t care for a plant, how can he care for a child?” Faded upholstery? “If he doesn’t notice wear and tear that he passes by every day, how can he be trusted to notice if our son is unhappy?” It’s all bullshit. But it’s her particular brand of bullshit, and it always gets me.
Maybe some couples fall in love and learn each other’s love languages and ways to make each other happy. We just learned how to push each other’s buttons.
For his part, Charles trails her with a bored smile on his face and his hands clasped like he’s afraid to touch anything lest he get some bit of grime on his salmon-colored pants and striped shirt. In his straw fedora, the asswipe looks like he’s going to a polo match.
“We’ll have so much fun today. I got tickets in the dugout club for the Dodgers game, so hopefully we can get a player to autograph a ball for you! How does that sound, pal?” Elizabeth stands over Scout, who has to crane his neck to look up at her. It reminds me of how Callie is with him, how she crouched down the very first time she met Scout, her instinct telling her to see him at his level for his comfort. His own mother doesn’t even get that.
“Wow! Did you hear that, Daddy?” Scout asks.
Far be it from me to be the jerk who can’t share his enthusiasm for his favorite sport. It just irks me because I know those tickets probably cost two grand apiece, and she knows I can’t afford that.
“I did. You’re taking him all the way to LA?”
“Yes, is that a problem?” She’s daring me, but I won’t be the one to take this away from my son even though I hate the idea.
“Better get your glove so you can catch that ball.”
When Scout scurries to his room to grab his baseball mitt, I glare at Elizabeth. “Does it really have to be the dugout club? You couldn’t get seats in the bleachers like a normal parent?”
She blinks at me, innocent. “I called in a favor. I can’t help it if these are the seats my friend has.”
I’m about to unleash twenty dollars’ worth of swear jar material when Scout returns with an uncertain smile on his face, as though he’s not sure he’s allowed to be this excited to go with his mom. At least I assume that’s what it means.
“Daddy, can you help me reach my yellow shoes?” he whispers. I follow him to his room, where I find the yellow shoes on the floor.
Scout buries his head in my thigh and hugs me so tight I feel tears spring to my eyes. “Daddy, I’m nervous. The Dodgers game is a long way away from here.”
