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“How the hell did you manage that?”
Ivy curved her lips into a nasty leer as she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. “A few rounds of vaginal rejuvenation, some dominatrix role play in the bedroom, and voilà. It was rather simple.”
“So your trifling ass can get vaginal rejuvenation, but it’s illegal for me to roll back the odometer on my truck. What the fuck?” Mike scoffed. “Something’s wrong with this goddamn country.”
“Gosh, you’re such an asshole, Michael.”
“Said the dick.”
Ivy glared him down in the way she used to do when he was younger, but she had no clue who she was standing off with now.
“I’m going to say this one last time,” Mike hissed. “Leave.”
“Not until I see Bishop… with my own eyes.”
“Here, I got a picture.” Mike pulled out his cell phone.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Well, it’s all you’re gonna get,” Mike countered.
They were in a standoff, and though he knew how insistent Ivy could be when she wanted something, he was sure he was going to win this fight. That deserter was never laying eyes on his son—she didn’t deserve to even meet him. And Mike would’ve made sure of it, but of course his son, Edison, Wood, and Trent had to pull up at that exact moment.
Mike could feel a throbbing start behind his right eye when Bishop got out of the passenger seat of Edison’s Impala, holding a casserole dish in both hands. “Dad, Eddie made your favorite.”
“Mike, you want the drinks on the deck, yeah?” Wood called out as he and Trent lugged a huge cooler toward the entrance to the backyard, not bothering to wait on Mike to answer.
Apparently, none of them could sense the tense feud between Mike and the random woman he was standing too close to because Bishop gave Rayne a fist bump on his way past before he went through the front door. Edison waved to Mike, then let the screen slam shut after them.
“I swear to god, Ivy.” Mike lowered his voice. He didn’t miss the swell of awe that crept over her face as she stared at where Bishop had disappeared. “If you hurt my boy… all fuckin’ bets are off.”
“I know I’ve hurt him enough… both of you.” It was the first time Mike saw an ounce of guilt or remorse from her. “And I know I don’t have any rights to him. I just…” Her eyes watered, “I just wanna see him one time.”
“And then you leave,” Mike finished.
“I promise.” She nodded. “Can I go in and—”
“Mike! Why don’t you have the grill heating up yet? What are you doing?” Bishop stood on the porch with his hands up in the air like “what the hell.” His son stood there looking like a better replica of himself in boots, dark blue jeans, and a faded, retro Beavis and Butthead T-shirt. They were dressed similarly, except Mike’s T-shirt was all black with two words written block-style across his chest that read, Property of Overbrook Insane Asylum. Return if found.
“Mike.” Bishop frowned, glaring at him before his gaze moved to Ivy.
Mike didn’t say anything; he was still too stunned that Bishop and his mother were only feet away from each other. He never thought this day would come.
“Oh my gosh, he looks just like you,” she whispered in wonderment, moving closer toward the porch. “He’s so big… and strong.” She turned and beamed at Mike as if she was proud. “And handsome.
“Dad.” Bishop was staring at Ivy as if he almost had all the pieces of the puzzle put together.
“Hello, Bishop.” Ivy held her hand out, and Mike held his breath.
Rayne was at his side now, and Manny at his back like they were afraid he was about to fall over. Mike was actually pretty damn close when his son’s hand grasped hers. He didn’t do worried, but the sight before him felt like an invisible fist punching him in the gut.
“I’m Ivy St. James.” She reached up and touched Bishop’s cheek, all motherly and compassionate, with tears streaming down her face. “I’m your… I’m your mother.”
