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Dinner is nice, if not a little on the painful side. I can’t help but wonder if this was a setup, considering she made one of my favorite meals. I have a hard time believing she made pot roast and all the trimmings for just Max and herself. Ashley drones on about her day, as if us all eating together is completely normal, but as much as I try to focus on what she’s saying, my mind is back at the Elliott mansion.
I can’t believe Kate is back and living in that house. How long would it have been before I found out that tidbit of information? Would she have sought me out or would we have just casually run into each other at the supermarket? What if I hadn’t gotten that job and it was weeks—months—before I realized she was living just three short miles from me?
“Are you okay? You seem a little distracted,” Ashley says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh, sorry. Just a busy day at work,” I tell her, taking another bite of my food.
“I’m sure you’re crazy busy. I barely ever saw you in July and August,” she reminds, bringing up the past with a pained look. It was always one of her reasons to bitch. She hated I was always dirty, but even more so that I spent so much time working my business. I was always busy, but the summer months were the worst.
“Yeah,” I reply, not really sure what else to say. It’s not like we haven’t had this fight before many times over, and frankly, we’re divorced, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.
“So where are you working?” she asks, surprising the hell out of me. Ashley never asked about my work, didn’t really care that much.
“All over, really, but I just started to work on the mansion on Coast Drive,” I answer, moving my food around on my plate.
I can feel her eyes assessing me from across the table, but I don’t look up. Instead, I shovel a little more meat into my mouth, praying this dinner ends quicker rather than later. “Someone bought the Elliott mansion?” she asks, and yes, there’s definitely something snippy in her tone.
My mind immediately goes the woman who now owns the house. I don’t want to start a war with my ex, even though it’s really none of her business who now owns that place. But the truth is, she’s always felt threatened by Kate. Not physically, of course, but by her memory. Ashley went to school with Kate and me, so she knows all about our history. She knows about the plans we had made that never were carried out. She knows all about the pain I carried around after Kate’s abrupt exit from town.
She knows everything, and that’s why I keep the new owner’s name to myself.
“It looks like it,” I answer, not ready to get into the specifics of the Elliott mansion. Besides, I don’t really have many of the details myself, other than Kate’s dad passing away and leaving her the house.
“Wow, well, it will be good to see new life to that old dump.” It’s anything but a dump, I think to myself. Sure, it needs some work, but the house is still as beautiful as ever.
So is the owner.
Shaking that thought out of my head, I make it through the rest of dinner, thankful that the house isn’t brought back up again. I help gather up the dirty dishes, taking them over to the sink, when Ashley suggests I help Max with his bath. Our son is instantly excited, running off to get his favorite squirt toy ready, so there’s not much hope of me trying to sneak out of the house now.
Sighing in resignation, I head off to the bathroom. At least I can hide out there with Max instead of in the kitchen with Ashley. I let him play for a bit before grabbing the shampoo and scrubbing down his head. I can feel the gritty sand, which makes me smile. Max loves playing in the dirt as much as I always did, and I never fail to find some dirt or sand on his scalp. After a thorough scrubbing and rinse, he gets out and heads to his room where he finds his Captain American pajamas. Grabbing a book off the shelf, I read through it before his eyes start to droop.
“One more?” he asks, snuggled into my side.
“Not tonight, Buddy. I’m gonna head home so you can get some sleep,” I tell him, placing a kiss on his forehead.
“Night, Daddy. Love you,” he whispers.
“Night, Buddy. Love you too,” I tell him, slowly crawling out of his bed and pulling the lightweight covers over his body. He snuggles in, and almost drifts off instantly, the Sawyer Randall baseball still in his hand.
Flipping off the light, I head back to the kitchen, ready to tell Ashley goodbye. When I get there, I find it mostly dark, the light above the sink providing just enough light that no one trips or runs into anything if they get up in the night. She’s not in the living room, and it looks like the house is already locked up for the night. There’s only one place she can be, and my stomach churns with dread as I head that way.
The door is cracked open and low light spills through the doorway. I already know what awaits me on the other side. She’s tried this shit before. It didn’t work then, and it sure as hell isn’t going to work now. I push open the door with little fanfare and spot my ex-wife immediately. She’s lying on the bed, wearing a white and pink nightgown that reveals a lot more of her skin than I should be seeing. In fact, I can see her nipples poking through the lace and her bare pussy is on full display.
“Ashley,” I groan, and not in the excited way she’s expecting. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” she asks, a coy smile playing on her plump lips. “Welcome home my husband after a long day’s work?”
I close my eyes, hating what’s happening. I’ve known this woman long enough that whatever is about to come out of my mouth is going to be wrong in her eyes. She’s played this game our entire adult lives, and frankly, I’m tired. I just want to go home, get a little work done, have a beer, and fall sleep—alone. Now, I have to deal with my ex as I navigate today’s landmine field, and that’s sure as fuck what this is. No matter what I say, what I do, it’s going to blow up in my face.
“Ashley, I’m going home.” I exhale loudly, planting my hands firmly on my hips, and keep my eyes focused on hers.
“You are home, silly,” she coos, running her hand down the white lace that covers her left breast.
“I’m not. We’re divorced. This isn’t happening,” I tell her with conviction.
She smiles from her position on the bed. “That’s not what you said last time,” she whispers, an annoying giggle spilling from her lips.
My mind goes right back to that night, more than eleven months ago, when she tried this same shit. Only that time, it worked. I got caught up in the good, reminiscing about happier times. Next thing I knew, I was in her bed and hating myself the next morning. And speaking of the next morning, when I tried to politely remind her we were divorced and anything between us wasn’t happening again, she threw a picture frame at my head and called me every name in the book. She also made my life hell for the next month when it came to Max, using him as much as she could as a pawn to get to me.
