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I head up the walk, noting the disarray of the landscaping. Part of me wants to offer to fix it, but it’s not my problem now. If Ashley doesn’t want to trim the shrubs or pull the weeds from the beds I spent so much time building and maintaining, well, that’s not for me to worry about anymore. She wanted the house in the divorce, and with that comes the yard work.
Knocking on the door, I smile instantly when I hear running feet on the hardwood. The door flies open and I’m greeted by my son’s big toothy grin. “Daddy!” he hollers moments before throwing himself in my arms.
“Hey, Buddy, are you ready to go?” I ask, setting him down and stepping inside the front entry.
“His bag is on the table,” Ashley states, walking around the corner. She’s dressed to the nines in designer clothes with her dark hair curled just right and her makeup flawless. It’s a little extreme for a Thursday night at home, which tells me either she’s going out or she’s trying to make me jealous. She’s notorious for both and often combines the two. One time when she called me to come help with Max, she answered the door in a little nightgown I bought her when my older sister, Harper, opened her lingerie shop. I’m not sure what result she was looking for, but I’m pretty sure me practically ignoring her wasn’t it.
The frigid bitch welcome I received the next few weeks was enough to make my balls shrivel up.
“Thanks,” I reply in way of greeting, reaching for my son’s bag of goodies. I have enough of everything he needs at my place, but he’s four, and like most four-year-olds, he has a handful of his favorite toys that go everywhere with him.
Including his Sawyer Randall autographed baseball.
I can feel her eyes on me as I help Max get his shoes on. I know she’s expecting me to say something, give her a compliment. Ashley was never shy on fishing for them, and that sure as shit hasn’t changed even after the divorce. I should just grab Max’s hand and head out the door, but I know that’ll make it worse in the long run. She’ll call all weekend and want to talk to Max or she’ll text me at all hours of the night to discuss arrangements for something that could be made during normal human waking hours.
Deciding the compliment is the lesser of the two evils right now, I say, “Your hair looks nice.”
There.
Simple.
Basic.
Nothing in that statement says ‘I love you, let’s get back together.’
“Thanks!” she coos, twirling her hair around her finger. “I just got it cut and highlighted for my date tonight.”
Oh, I see where this is going.
Do not engage.
Do not engage.
“Well, we better get going. Have a good evening,” I add, turning and pushing open the screen door.
“I’m sure I will! Jefferson Riley is picking me up in thirty minutes,” she says, her eyes dancing with delight, but I have a feeling it’s more for show than anything else. She’s trying to get a rise out of me, especially when she throws out the name Jefferson Riley.
Jefferson owns Riley Landscape, the new landscaper in town. I’ve had a small list of clients jump over to him this past summer, considering the first thing he did was come in and undercut my prices. My loyal customers have remained steadfast, though. What gives me the leg up in the business is my Bachelor of Science in Landscape Architecture, while Jefferson carries an associate’s degree in horticulture. Basically, I can do more shit than he can, primarily in the design field. I also carry an additional three years’ worth of schooling debt to boot.
Fortunately, Max has already hightailed it to my truck and didn’t hear about her date. Not that I’m trying to keep anything from him, but when it comes to adult shit, like the demise of our marriage and dating, I try to keep his little ears away from it. Unfortunately, his mom doesn’t hold that same sense of respect. Often, she’s used him with petty disagreements, filling his little ears with things she knows he’ll relay to me, just to get a rise out of me.
Works every time, too.
“See you Sunday night,” I holler, without so much as a backward glance. I’m sure she’ll start blowing up my phone in about three minutes, considering I didn’t give her the attention she was shooting for.
As soon as Max is buckled in his car seat, I hop in my truck and head the few blocks over to my place. He’s chatting a mile a minute about starting preschool next week. I can’t believe he’s starting his second year of preschool and getting ready to turn five in a few weeks. In the past year since the divorce, he’s grown leaps and bounds, becoming quite the little man. Max likes to be outside in the dirt, like me, and has a new love for baseball. He played his first summer of tee-ball, which basically just involved standing at the tee and swinging until he connected.
“Are we having pizza?” he asks as I pull into the driveway.
“Maybe,” I answer, drawing out the word.
“Yay!” he bellows as he unbuckles the belt. Max and I have a standing pizza date on the night I pick him up from his mom’s.
Ashley and I share joint custody of Max. It was one of the stipulations I had upfront when it came to the divorce. She balked, at first, crying about how she’d miss him when he was away. Well, tough shit, lady. He’s my son too! It took mediation before we were able to come up with a joint agreement. We settled on four days her, three days me, and vice versa the next week. Sure, that means I have him most weekends, but I don’t mind. If I have to work, and usually I do during the heat of summer, my mom or one of my sisters helps me out. Max loves my family and readily goes with any one of them.
My mom owns Grayson Bed and Breakfast, where I spent part of my childhood. Originally, both of parents purchased the old, rundown home to bring Mom’s dream of turning it into a bed and breakfast to fruition. Unfortunately, Dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and screwed around. They split up not too long after the B&B took off, leaving Mom to run it solo, while raising four kids. The good part was that we were still at home and were able to help tremendously.
Marissa, the youngest, was the first to show real interest in the business. She lived and breathed the B&B, even as a young child, so it was no surprise when she returned from college and joined Mom. Marissa does a lot of the cooking, which is her favorite part, and most of the day-to-day dealings. Her boyfriend, Rhenn, moved in with her recently, and together, they share the tiny cottage behind the house. I’m not sure where their relationship is headed, but I’m pretty sure it’s toward happily ever after.
