Jett laughs and assures me, “I’m sure it will be the best spaghetti ever.”
♦
“Breaking something,” Jett yells, his butt on the edge of the couch.
Felicity is standing opposite him on the other side of the table. She nods furiously at him, miming holding something in her hands, and well… breaking something.
“Breaking a stick,” Jett guesses.
Felicity shakes her head.
“Breaking a carrot,” he blurts out in excitement.
Felicity rolls her eyes. She then mimes holding something in one hand and stirring with the other.
Clapping his hands with confidence, Jett proclaims, “Cleaning a toilet bowl.”
I snort and Felicity stops all movement, putting her hands on her hips and staring at Jett as if that was the dumbest thing she’s ever heard.
“Time’s up,” Jenna announces.
Jett slumps back onto the couch next to me, scratching at his cropped hair in defeat.
“It was scrambled eggs,” Felicity chastises. “How could you think I was cleaning a toilet bowl?”
Jett shrugs helplessly and looks to me for help.
I shake my head. “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who picked her as a partner. Besides that, you’re still beating Jenna and I by two points.”
“That’s right,” Jett drawls with a smirk. He jumps off the couch, starts shaking his butt, and Felicity does the same. “Oh, yeah. We’re bad. We’re bad.”
Felicity mimics him and they both look like fools.
The best kind, of course.
“Okay, our turn,” Jenna says primly, picking a card. The children’s version of a charades game has been sitting in my linen closet for weeks since you need four people to play, and tonight has been the first opportunity. Felicity brought it out, prepared to beg Jett to stay and play, but he needed no encouragement. He’s like a big kid himself and of course his spirit of competition is shining through.
Jenna tosses the card down and stands from the end chair. Felicity takes her place to watch.
Looking to me with a serious expression, Jenna asks, “You ready to do this? We need this point.”
“I’m ready,” I reply with a firm nod, moving my butt to the edge of the couch to watch my sister.
Jett leans in a little toward me and whispers, “You are both going down.”
I backhand his arm in mock irritation, and he makes a big, exaggerated yelp, falling back again. Felicity thinks it’s hilarious and breaks out in giggles.
“Ignore these two buffoons,” I instruct Jenna as I take the timer in hand, ready to turn it over. “I’m ready.”
Just as she raises her arms to start acting out whatever was on her card, there’s a knock on the front door. Since Jenna is standing and closest, she says, “I’ll get it.”
Jett immediately scoots to the end of the couch closest to Felicity and leans toward her. They whisper conspiratorially, no doubt honing their strategy to bring home the win. I can’t help but smile as I watch, because never in a million years did I envision Jett would be in my home playing charades with me, my sister, and my daughter.
“Emory,” Jenna says from the door. She’s got her hand on the knob and it’s not all the way closed, which indicates there’s still someone out on the porch. Jenna’s face looks almost green and a chill races down my spine. “It’s for you.”
Jett breaks off in mid-conversation, proving he can multi-task by listening to my daughter while still keeping attention on me. I give him a small smile as I stand from the couch and move to the front door.
When I reach Jenna, she whispers in a voice so low, only I can hear it. “It’s Shane.”
My blood turns ice-cold even as my hands sweat. “Shit,” I whisper back. I glance over at Jett, and he has Felicity occupied. There’s no way I’m inviting him in.
Taking in a breath, I tell Jenna, “I’ve got this. Keep them both occupied, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmurs and turns away.
I open the door and step out onto the porch, the yellow sconced light casting a soft glow on my ex-husband as he stands three feet away.
Shutting the door, I punch my hands down into my pockets. A purely defensive move. “What are you doing here?”
Shane looks different. Healthy even. His body has filled out some, mostly noticeable in his face which had been quite gaunt the last time I’d seen him. Face freshly shaven, dark hair trimmed and those hazel eyes rimmed by the thickest lashes looking nervous and contrite.
He lifts a hand, rubs at the back of his neck as his gaze falls away for a moment before finally having the guts to come back to mine. “I was um… hoping to see Felicity.”
“You have no right,” I remind him.
“No,” he says almost apologetically. “I mean… yeah, I understand that. I want to do this legally, of course. However you think is best.”
My voice shakes with fury. “It’s been almost two years and I’ve not heard a word from you. And now you just want to show up and see Felicity.”
“She’s my daughter, Emory,” he reminds me.
I take a few steps toward him, and as I get closer I note that his face is more lined than it was before and he has some gray starting at the temples. Shane is ten years older than me, but even at thirty-eight, he shouldn’t look so worn.
It’s the drugs that will do that though.
“Are you clean?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he replies, a tone of pride in his voice. “Just over four months.”
I already knew the answer to that. He looks too healthy to be using. He looks like the man I married almost eight years ago, minus the graying hair.
“How did you even find me?” I ask, an unnecessary question but I don’t know what else to say right now. In a million years, I never thought I’d see Shane again. I thought he was gone for good.
“My parents said you took a job in Phoenix. A quick Google search and I found you on the Vengeance website. Another quick search, found your property tax records.”
“And you couldn’t call first?” I snap at him. “This isn’t cool you just showing up like this.”
“I know,” he says assuredly, and then repeats, “I know. I just thought you’d hang up on me or wouldn’t return my call. I figured you’d be forced to talk to me if I came here. I know it’s rude, but I’m very serious about reestablishing my relationship with Felicity.”
“It can’t be tonight,” I tell him. I’d need time to prepare her. Explain things. “And… I need to call my attorney.”
Shane bobs his head in acknowledgment. “I would appreciate that.”
“This is going to be hard for her,” I murmur.
He takes that in the wrong way, and I see a little of the arrogance that he used to possess when he was an esteemed, tenured professor at UCLA, where we met. “I have rights, Emory. My parents have retained an attorney for me as well.”
“I’m not stupid, Shane,” I snap at him, and then take a step back. “But I have rights, too and I intend to protect Felicity. You may be entitled to come back into her life, but we’re going to do it in the way that’s least traumatizing to her.”