Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(57)

“You won’t be so smug if I go to a lawyer, Gareth.”

“You might be right, Beth, but in a month, this conversation won’t mean shit, because you’ll be gone again. Now, please get out of my house.”

“Whatever. Tell Max I’ll be at the school tomorrow to pick him up. And tell Mitchell I want to spend time with him.”

“Mom will be picking up Max tomorrow. You can come over and hang with them if you want. As for Mitchell, he’s old enough to choose if he wants to spend time with you. And since every time you’ve been around he’s disappeared into his room, I’m thinkin’ he doesn’t want that.”

“I don’t need to be supervised with my own son, and you’ve turned Mitchell against me,” she hisses then turns to the door when there’s a knock and stomps to it, swinging it open. “Give us a minute.” She slams it closed, and I see fucking red but check the urge to bodily remove her from my house.

I move past her to the door, and the moment I open it, December gives me a wide-eyed, adorable look. “Sorry, babe.” I take two bags from her, recognizing the scent of barbeque coming from them.

“We’re not done talking,” Beth informs me as December hangs up her purse and coat.

“We are.” I keep the door open for her to leave. “The boys need to eat, finish their homework, and then get ready for bed.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” She glares at me from her position in the middle of the living room then she shoots her eyes to December as she walks to my side.

“I don’t want her—” She points at December. “—around our sons.”

December’s nose scrunches at the statement, but besides that, she doesn’t react.

“Go to your hotel, Beth.”

“I’m serious, Gareth. I don’t want her around my boys.”

“Guess what, Beth. In life, you don’t always get what you want. Now, please leave before I call the cops and have you removed.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” I hold her stare.

Reading my look, her face twists into a sneer and she points at me then December. “Fuck you and you.” She stomps to her bag, grabs it, and continues to stomp past us. As soon as she clears the threshold, I shut the door and shake my head.

“Well, that was intense,” December says quietly, and I focus on her as she places a hand against my stomach.

“I told you she was being nice yesterday.”

“You did. I didn’t believe you.” She bites her lip. “Are you alright?”

“You’re here. The boys are here. I’m good.” I tip my head down and brush my mouth across hers. “Let’s get the boys fed.”

“Sure,” she agrees. I go to the kitchen with the bags, and a moment later, she comes in with her arms full of the shit off the coffee table. Without a word, she puts the stuff away while I unload dinner from the two full bags she brought with her. “I got a little of everything,” she says as I place a large container of coleslaw next to one just as big that’s filled with mac and cheese.

“I see that.”

“I figured if there were extra you could take it to work for lunch.”

I grin. “Babe, when has there ever been leftovers when you’ve been around and the boys are present?”

“True.” She returns my grin, and I lean over, kissing the top of her hair, and then notice Max standing on the opposite side of the island, looking nervous.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Come here, kid,” I order, and he shifts his feet before coming around to me. Once he’s close, I pull him into a hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” he mutters.

I tip my head down to look at him. “Are you filled up on junk food?”

“Mom just put a bunch of stuff on the coffee table for me. I didn’t eat much of it.”

“All right.” I let him go. “Get plates out then go tell your brother it’s time to eat.”

“I’m standing right here,” Mitchell says, and then he looks at December. “Thanks for bringing dinner.”

“Sure, honey.” She smiles softly at him then looks at me, and I know she can feel the undercurrent of tension that seems to be filling the kitchen by the second.

“Dad,” Max prompts, and I look to where he’s standing and getting out plates. “I… I don’t want to live with Mom, even if it’s just part time.”

“Max—”

“I heard her say she’s going to get a lawyer. I just want…. Well, I just want to say I don’t want to live with her, even if she moves here.”

“Dude, Mom isn’t moving back to town,” Mitchell tells him, sounding annoyed. “She’s never moving back here. She’s just saying that, because she’s mad that Dad and December are together, so she’s trying to mess that up.”

“But—”

“She doesn’t care about us, Max.” Mitchell turns on his brother. “When are you going to get that?”

“Mitchell,” I growl, as December whispers, “Mitchell, honey—”

“It’s true.” He glances at December then faces me. “She doesn’t care about us. She only cares about herself, and he needs to get that.”