“Not just respectful, but obedient.” She arched an eyebrow at the children. “The four of us will all get along just fine as long as you do whatever I say as soon as I say it.”
Three pairs of wide eyes flicked my way, begging for me to save them. I wanted to remind them this was what happened when you built a shitty reputation for yourself, but saying that while Greta could hear seemed unwise.
She waved her hands toward the bedrooms. “You three run along so I can speak privately with your father.”
Three heads nodded. Three pairs of feet backed away slowly. Then three children practically ran screaming to their rooms.
Greta turned to me with a pleased smile. “I was very sorry to hear you and that Amelia Brown ended things.” The jut of her chin, those pursed lips, the dictionary entry for the word ‘judgement’ should include her picture as an example.
I took a deep breath, searching out the appropriate response. “I—”
“I’m not surprised, though.” She moved deeper into the house, running a finger along the frames on the wall to check for dust. “Not at all. I knew that woman was after something the moment she came into town. I thought she was more of the type to cling to you until she got a marriage proposal, then ‘take care of the kids’ instead of getting a job. I was wrong about that, but right in everything else. She got the lease on that store and set you free.” Greta shook her head, looking too pleased with herself to pull off the sad frown she painted on.
Indignation planted my hands on my hips. “What are you—”
“Better it happened this way, I suppose. At least you weren’t looking at marriage or anything like that. It is a shame though, that the kids were involved. Those parasite types don’t seem to care how many lives get hurt as long as they get what they want. I bet she just thrives on scandal.”
Someone thrived on scandal, and it wasn’t Amelia Brown.
Exhausted by the tirade, I held up my hand. “You have your facts wrong, Mrs. Macmillan. Amelia was only ever generous with both me and my children. I’m the one that broke up with her, and it had nothing to do with the store, though frankly, that’s none of your damn business. Amelia and I love each other and this has been the hardest choice for me, even if it’s right for the kids. With all the respect in the world, don’t talk about her like that.”
After weeks of Greta talking smack about Amelia on Facebook, I had a whole lot more I wanted to say, but I was out of both sick days and babysitters, so I left it at that.
She cocked her head, her shrewd gaze wandering from my head to my toes and back again. “I had no idea.”
“Now you do.” I offered a smile and patted my pants for my keys. “There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you’d like and don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
With that, I called a quick goodbye to the kids and headed outside, just in time for the sky to split and rain to pour down. I raced to the car, closed the door, and shook water from my hair.
Life without Amelia was looking pretty fucking bleak.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jack
Five o’clock didn’t arrive with the same oomph it used to. Instead of strutting out of the office like a man on a mission, I sat in my chair, staring at my blank computer screen as minutes ticked by. Without Amelia waiting for me at home, there wasn’t much to look forward to…unless you counted condiment warpaint and Greta’s swift and brutal judgement over how I raised my kids.
I swiped a hand over my mouth.
Enough with the poor me attitude.
I made this choice and wouldn’t be the kind of guy who wallowed in regret.
My chair scraped against the floor as I pushed away from my desk and gathered my things. The kids needed rescued from the babysitter from hell and I needed to look into finding a daycare or something. After Greta’s anti-Amelia tirade this morning, I didn’t want her in my house any longer than necessary. The second I shoved my phone into my pocket, it buzzed with a text. I groaned, certain Mrs. Macmillan had bad news for me, then actually sighed in relief when I saw who’d reached out.
Jude: Cheers ‘n Beers. Now. Drinks on me.
Me: Can’t. Kids need dinner.
Jude: Izzy has the kids.
Me: No…Greta has the kids.
Jude: No…I asked Izzy to relieve Greta so you can have beers with me and the guys. This is non-negotiable. Cheers ‘n Beers. Now.
An evening with my friends sounded fucking fantastic. I’d need to remember to do something nice for Iz. She’d gone out of her way for me so many times lately and, if it wasn’t for her stepping in yet again, I’d be heading home instead of out for drinks. I sent a text saying as much and hit the road, waving to Tabitha on my way out. When I arrived at the bar, Jude, Austin, and Alex’s cars were lined up near the entrance like a row of soldiers. Something about the way they looked sitting there, one beside the other, brought on a realization.
Fucking hell.
This wasn’t drinks with the guys.
This was a goddamn JAM.
Whenever one of us started acting like an asshole when we were kids, we called a meeting to bring the offender up to speed on his bullshit. We called them Jackass Meetings—JAMs for short—and felt like little badasses for it. As we got older, we lost the stupid name, but not the tradition or the solidarity. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had one, and certainly not with me as head asshole.
After the week I had, the last thing I wanted was for my friends to line up and punch me in the gut with a reminder of all the ways I’d been failing. I already knew that list was long and covered every aspect of my life. But the first rule of a Jackass Meeting was that you couldn’t walk away if you were the reason for one.
The rule was long-standing and I’d written it myself—mostly with an eye on Alex and his selfishness and Jude with his cocky overconfidence. I never expected nerdy, rule-following, number-loving me to be at the center of one of these things.
But here we were.
With a sigh, I pushed through the front door. The energy of the place greeted me as music played over speakers and waitresses buzzed between customers. My friends sat at a table in the center of the bar, a fourth chair pushed out and waiting. As I ambled their way, a few patrons waved hello, but most started whispering as they watched me pass. Stupid small towns and their stupid ass rumors.
“If we didn’t call one of these meetings when Alex pulled all that shit with Evie,” I grumbled as I took a seat, “I fail to see what the hell I’ve done that’s worse.”
Jude slid a beer my way, then tossed his arm over the back of his chair. “We one hundred percent should’ve called a meeting about Alex. Look at us, learning from our mistakes.” He grinned and took a swig.
Alex ran a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t have heard anything you guys said even if you did call a meeting,” he said with a wry chuckle. “I was so sure I had it all figured out, you guys could’ve talked ‘til you were blue, and I would’ve stuck to my guns. But maybe whatever you had to say would’ve made me think and things wouldn’t have gotten so ugly…” He turned to me with his brows raised. “Which is why we’re here.”