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Her heart beating fast, forehead still pressed against the refrigerator, Brielle shifted her gaze to see who her son was talking to.
“Morning,” Ross greeted her, looking way too handsome and relaxed compared to the restless night she’d spent. What had happened to the scowling, angry man who’d left her house only hours before?
“Having a bad day?” he asked, gesturing to the refrigerator.
She straightened, brushed her fingers through her hair, wished she’d taken time to actually dress, brush her hair and teeth, and throw on some mascara. Instead, she wore faded old pajama bottoms sporting cartoon penguins and a cotton-candy-pink T-shirt that had seen better days but was so comfy she kept wearing it anyway. She’d twisted her hair, haphazardly clipped it back, and wore stained fuzzy white slippers on her feet.
Ross looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine advertising the perfect man. His T-shirt stretched perfectly over his chest and appeared to be of the softest cotton. His jeans fit so well they could have been custom made for his body. His hair was perfectly groomed, his eyes bright, and his smile relaxed and natural looking.
Shouldn’t he look a bit harried? At least a little? Life could be so unfair.
Oh, yeah, she was having a bad day.
She forced a smile to her face. “Couldn’t be better.”
“Denting refrigerators a part of your new usual morning wake-up ritual? Guess that’ll take me a while to get used to.”
“Or not,” she countered with a glare.
Ross gave her one sharp look, glanced toward their son who watched them closely, then smiled at her. A smile that was no more real than hers had been. His served as a warning that she somehow read just as clearly as she’d read him all those years ago, back before her pregnancy and their relationship had fallen apart.
A smile that was for Justice’s benefit and to let her know he expected her to mind her Ps and Qs. Their son was watching with sharp little eyes, taking in every detail of their interaction.
As contrary as she felt towards him, Ross was right.
She had to put on a positive front for Justice’s benefit because how she interacted with Ross would influence how their son viewed him.
Despite her many flaws, if Ross wanted to be a part of Justice’s life, she wanted that for her son’s sake. She knew the statistics of children who grew up without fathers. Yes, she did her best and Justice didn’t go without material needs or love and attention, but there were some things that, no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t do or be for her son.
She pasted a very bright smile on her face and focused on what was most important in her life, her son. “You hungry, Bruce?”
His confused expression relaxing, Justice nodded. He climbed up on the barstool next to the kitchen counter that extended from the sink and was open on both sides of the eat-in kitchen/dining area combo room. He usually perched at the counter, coloring, drawing, or working on a jigsaw puzzle while chatting to her as she prepared their meals. Sometimes he helped.
Ignoring that Ross walked over and sat in the second barstool next to Justice, Brielle began taking items out of the fridge and setting them on the countertop.
“My daddy is hungry, too,” Justice said matter-of-factly. “He’s been away working for a very long time, but he’s back now and he’s very hungry so he needs breakfast too.”
My daddy?
Brielle dropped the carton of eggs she was holding.
She’d wondered how they’d tell Justice, how they’d explain who Ross was and why he was living with them. She’d planned to talk to him about letting Justice get to know him before springing something so huge on the boy.
Obviously, Ross had taken matters into his own hands and dropped the bomb on their son.
Shaking, not wanting Justice to see her face, she stooped to clean up the eggs, paused when Ross’s hand covered hers. Tumultuous emotions swirling all through her, she lifted her gaze to his. Could he see how upset she was that he’d taken the liberty of telling Justice? She hoped so. She hoped a lot of things.
“Why don’t you take a morning off?” Ross’s eyes darkened to a blue so deep she felt she might topple in and drown. Was that concern or mockery shining back at her? “Go and shower while Bruce and I cook breakfast for you.”
Could he tell she was seething at his use of the pet name, at him having told Justice rather than allowing her to? Had he worried about what she would have said to their son or had he just arrogantly taken control without ever considering that she might have wanted to tell Justice herself?
“That’s not really my name,” Justice pointed out, still watching them closely enough that Brielle knew he was trying to figure out the tension in the room.
His father had been missing for the first five years of his life. Of course something wasn’t right between his parents. But he wasn’t quite five so he didn’t understand the complexities of adult relationships. Then again, neither did she.
“I know, Justice.” Ross emphasized the name, turning to look at their son for a brief moment, before returning his gaze to Brielle. “I think your mommy needs a few minutes to herself this morning. Sometimes mommies need to pull themselves together before facing their day. We guys just have to let them do their thing.”
Ross remained squatting next to her, his hand covering hers and causing all kinds of electrical zig-zags and criss-crosses that annoyed her. His gaze was intent and full of...she wasn’t sure. He was angry at her. Although he was pleasant, that harsh emotion was there, just beneath the surface, waiting to raise its ugly head if she didn’t co-operate and do things his way. That she knew. But there was something different in his gaze, too, something more empathetic perhaps. And desire. Possibly the chemistry would always burn between them despite his claim the night before that he no longer wanted her. A claim that had hurt but which had just been another blow in an entire battlefield of injuries.
