Egomaniac(65)

A little while later, a nurse came in and gave us dressing instructions, a tube of cream, and some gauze to use the next day so we didn’t have to get to the store right away. Even though everyone treated it like it was a common occurrence, I still felt like shit.

The first time Drew left me alone with his son, I’d broken him.

***

“I look like a boxer!” Beck announced on the way home from the hospital. “Dad, can you wrap my other hand? And maybe get this stuff in red?” He pointed to the ace bandage.

“Sure, buddy.”

The two of them were back to their normal selves, but I still felt horrible. Drew reached over and put his hand on my knee as he drove. “People are going to start looking at me funny with you two.”

I furrowed my brow.

“You’re in an air cast, and he’s got a hand wrapped.”

I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. Imagine—they look at you funny, when both injuries are completely my fault.”

Drew’s voice lowered. “Seriously, I see you sitting there trying all sorts of guilt on for size. It was an accident. It could have been me making the popcorn, and the exact same thing would have happened.”

“But it didn’t.”

“Stop beating yourself up. Two months ago he had a black eye from running into the dresser while his mother was watching him. He’s a little boy. They do shit without thinking and get hurt.”

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“I hadn’t even thought of his mother. She’s going to hate me.”

“Don’t worry about her. There wasn’t much of a shot of her liking you anyway.”

Great. Just great.





Chapter 35


Emerie



“Who are you?”

It only took three words to know the woman who walked into the office the next morning was a bitch.

Skin-tight jeans, brown leather high-heel boots on long, thin legs, and a tiny little waist in a top that that showed skin even though it was the end of January and freezing in New York City. I didn’t want to look any higher. I wanted to go home and change into something less professional and more sexy. There was no doubt in my mind who she was.

Dreading it, I skimmed the rest of the way up and was met with a face as nice as the body. Of course.

“I’m Emerie Rose. And you are?”

“Alexa Jagger. Drew’s wife.”

Drew suddenly appeared next to me in the lobby. “Ex-wife.” His narrowed eyes matched his curt response.

Alexa rolled her eyes. “Whatever. We need to talk.”

“Make an appointment. I’m busy this morning.”

She completely ignored Drew and brushed past him, strutting her way to his office.

The two of us remained standing in the lobby for a moment.

I spoke softly. “Well, she’s lovely.”

Drew took a deep breath. “You might want to put earplugs in.”

***

“We’re going!”

“You’re not taking him on the road to follow a bunch of race car drivers around the country and home schooling him! Go, if you want to go, but Beck is staying here.”

“What is he going to do here with you? You work sixty hours a week.”

“I make it work. At least here he has his school, his routine, his home.”

“You don’t make it work. You dump him on a babysitter. I’ve heard more about the new sitter this morning than you. And apparently she’s not even competent to watch him since his hand is burned.”

Shit.

The yelling quieted, and I knew Drew was trying to get himself under control. I pictured his jaw clenching and flexing as he breathed in fire and attempted to push out ice.

When he finally spoke, his tone was more than angry; it teetered on lethal. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t ship my son off to a babysitter. He was with me or my girlfriend the entire time, and he was well cared for.”

“Girlfriend?” Alexa spat. “You’re bringing my son around your fuck of the month now?”

“Our son.” Drew growled. “And she isn’t a fuck of the month. Unlike you, I’ve never introduced Beck to anyone I was seeing casually. All the times he’s mentioned random men being around, I’ve kept my mouth shut and trusted you were being careful and respectful around him. And I expect the same in return for Emerie.”

“Emerie? The woman I met in the lobby? You’re fucking the hired help?”

“We’re sharing space. She’s a psychologist, not the hired help. And what the fuck would it matter to you if she swept the floor here? At least she has a job. You should try it. It might make you appreciate the thousand-dollar boots you’re wearing right now.”

“I’m raising our son. It’s a full-time job.”

“Funny how he’s our son when I’m footing the bill for that full-time job. But yours when you want to take him on a NASCAR tour of redneck country.”

“I’m taking him,” she snapped

“You’re not taking him.”

“I don’t think it’s something you want to fight about. Beck should get to know his father and spend time with him.”

I braced myself for the roar I knew was coming.