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I shook my head. “Not really. I’ve been busy.”
“You need to see your son, Ryan.”
“I know. I know. That’s something I’m working on currently. But that’s the thing. I’ve been busy. I’ve been taking on more projects and continuing with my expansion for one reason, and I was wondering if that reason could play in my favor. You know, if we do this.”
“Yeah?” Jerry seemed interested now. “What’s that?”
“The house is in her name, but we still have a mortgage. She only works part-time, and she doesn’t get much. She can barely afford groceries, but I pay for the mortgage, the car, the—”
“But that’s not part of the decree.”
I nodded. “I know that. But what if I didn’t? She wouldn’t be able to pay a dime for our son. He’d have nothing. Without my money, she’d lose that car. And the house. She’d lose everything.”
Jerry paused for a moment, and I hoped he didn’t interpret what I said as me deciding I really wouldn’t pay those bills. I’d do anything to make sure my son had what he needed. Even though it seemed like Duke was living there. The thought made my blood boil.
“Ryan, let me call you after my meeting. I have a lot to ask you.”
Chapter 13
Christie
After calling the office, I was told to wait for a call from Andrew Mayhew. It turned out he wasn’t the owner of Mayhew Industries, but as the owner’s son, he still had to have a lot of sway. He was basically the owner’s secretary and recruiter, along with whatever other job titles he held. I didn’t learn much else in my short conversation with the office manager—whose name I forgot—but all that information made me optimistic.
It pissed me off that I had to give her this number, though. Stupid Ryan. I couldn’t even be mad at him now after all I learned from Darlene. My stomach flipped. Would she tell Ryan I’d come by? Darlene had sounded pretty bitter, almost as if she hadn’t been the one to want a divorce in the first place. But she seemed remorseful, too. Maybe she felt bad for Ryan; she’d said as much. She felt bad knowing he wanted to be a good father, but she couldn’t just keep giving him chances. She had a life to live, too. I’d said that, and she agreed.
I felt like we could be friends if it wouldn’t be so awkward. Ryan could not be the foundation of a friendship between us. And despite everything Darlene had to say about him, the few good things were things she said weren’t him anymore—but she was wrong. I’d seen those softer sides to him. I’d seen his jovial nature and his love for his son in the photos on his phone.
And that day when we met. Looking back, I realized he hadn’t even thought about having sex with me when we met. He’d helped me out of a situation I didn’t want to be in because he wanted to.
I gave my Uber driver the address to the garage warehouse where Darlene said Ryan was staying. It was on the first of several rows of blank-faced two-story buildings. Most of them had regular-sized doors dwarfed by garage doors; some were cranked open with people working inside—welders, cabinet makers, industrial stuff. The one with the number Darlene gave me had the garage door open. Inside were several sweaty, dirt and grass-covered guys laughing and leaning on trucks loaded with riding mowers and other yard work supplies. Pallets of fertilizer were stacked along one side next to a few more pallets of sod. The place reeked of cow shit, dirt, and men who had spent the day in the sun.
I hesitated in the doorway.
“Are you sure …” the Uber driver said.
I wasn’t.
One of the guys gestured at me, and the group hushed. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for Ryan?” I said, certain this wasn’t where he lived.
Silently, he pointed up. I followed his finger to a set of metal stairs leading to a rickety-looking modular room up in a corner.
“This is it,” I told the driver, and he left me there.
All eyes were on me as I walked across the concrete floor, the short heels of my sandals giving an echoing click with each step. The men were quiet, too quiet, and I felt vulnerable and completely on display. I tested the handrail of the stairs with a quick shake and heard snickers coming from behind me. It seemed steady enough, but I wondered if higher ground was really a safer place to be under these circumstances.
Anger began to build in me for his putting me in this position, and by the time I reached the door at the top, I just swung it open instead of knocking. I wanted the element of surprise.
And we both got it.
He was sitting on a couch with a laptop on his lap. And little else.
My mouth dropped open at the sight of his chiseled chest, memories of being pressed against it flooding me.
“Hey, stranger!”
“Hey,” I managed to say.
