Chapter Sixteen
The warm breeze and crystal clear sky over the Scenic View Fire Department was ideal for the annual Memorial Day barbeque bash. Tristan claimed the first empty picnic table he found although he would have preferred a shady spot under one of the old oaks, but once the sun shifted in an hour or so they’d be out of the direct hit from the blazing sunshine.
Thinking of sunshine, Joy was in automatic mother-mode, slathering a second coat of sunblock on his daughter’s porcelain skin. After she’d gotten past her Mother’s Day meltdown, she managed to snap out of the self-deprecating funk, thank God. He only hoped this quick change of heart was true enough to endure the long hot summer once her boys were in the picture.
He would’ve avoided this shindig and spent the day putting the final touches on her place but he wanted to put in some quality time with Niblet—who skipped off, hand-in-hand with Joy’s parents.
Her name alone was enough to fill his heart with…joy. How could he properly thank the woman who brightened his dreary life like a ray of sunshine? She’d been an accommodating asset at his side through the recent change in his family status to primary caregiver. Heaven-sent and all his, he counted his blessings every night, grateful the Good Lord above put her in his path. With the new love of his life and his daughter under one roof, things couldn’t be more perfect.
“Taking the day off, huh?” Wearing an apron that read CHEF FOR THE DAY, Nick scraped charred burgers off the barbeque with a spatula and dropped them onto a platter of open buns.
“Boss’s orders,” Tristan joked with a wink.
“Good for you.” Nick placed a sausage pinwheel on Tristan’s paper plate beside a cheeseburger. “Making some memories with the fam. I’m glad to see you’re back to some version of your old self.”
“Hopefully a better version.” Tristan smacked his abs with an empty hand.
“Definitely better.” Nick nodded.
“Well, if you got free time, why don’t you consider the constable position?” Chief Maresca chimed in, dropping limp hotdogs onto the flaming grid, wearing an apron that matched Nick’s. “They’re looking for someone to fill the spot.”
“I’m still burning my time with the Star Harbor Police Department until my terminal leave is over at the end of August.”
“And knowing this guy, he’ll ask for his old job back on September first,” Nick gibed as he stuck his elbow into Tristan’s ribs. “Watch—he’ll be living in Star Harbor like he never left.”
“I don’t think so, buddy.” Tristan nudged Nick back.
“Why? ’Cause you finally found a reason to stay?” Nick slid his eyes in Joy’s direction as she picked lettuce leaves from a big bowl with tongs.
“Yeah. I think I did.” Tristan couldn’t control his growing grin. “I mean, I know I did.”
“Does she know it?” Nick flipped a slab of bloody beef on the grill, spitting juice into the air.
“She knows. But not about the ring I’ve got in mind. I’m saving it as a surprise after her kids get settled. I figure maybe the end of the summer.”
“That’s kinda quick, isn’t it?” The chief painted red sauce on the ribs with a long-handled brush.
“When it’s right, it’s right—that’s my motto.” Nick lined up another set of raw burgers over the fire.
“If you’re gonna be here for the long haul then you oughta apply for the job. I’ll even put in a good word for you. Plus you don’t really wanna be swinging a hammer for this guy the rest of your life, do ya?” the chief snarked with a smile.
Tristan smirked. Truth was he had no problem working for Nick, but oddly enough he almost missed being a cop. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” He wandered away with a full plate, following Joy toward their picnic table.
Before he sat on the bench, he put down his food to wrap his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck in a quick display of public affection.
“Tsk…” Joy giggled, shrugging him off, and he let her slip from his grip. “People are watching.”
“Oooh, people…they’re everywhere…watching us…” He played up his spooky voice, wigging his fingers for added effect. “You really think inquiring minds care about a cop-turned-carpenter and the Christmas Shoppe girl? Come on, sunshine, give me a little credit, okay? You know I’d never get all PDA on you if your folks were around to see. They’re over there with Nicole, somewhere.” He pointed toward the flock of silver-headed seniors entertaining their grandchildren under a shady tree.
Joy narrowed her eyes and twisted her pretty lips, undoubtedly concocting a viable comeback. “How much longer before I can move in next door?” She slid onto the bench across from him.
Tristan shrugged, purposely neglecting to mention he’d received the Certificate of Occupancy last week. Technically she could move in anytime, but he wanted to do a few surprise final touches before the big reveal. “Soon.” He downplayed the excitement of the situation.
“Can I at least see it?”
He bobbed his head, as if considering her request although he had no intention. She was getting harder and harder to put off. “I’d really love to show you, but I’m still waiting for the final inspection from the Building Division. You don’t wanna risk any fines just for sneaking a peek, do you?”
“Really, Tristan, this is ridiculous. Just snap a few pictures with your cellphone so I can at least see the inside.”
“Ridiculous? More like precautious.” He fought hard not to crack a smile at his own fabrication. For lack of a decent comeback, he went with the safe strategy of picking a fight instead. “What’s ridiculous is you, bringing your own burgers to a barbecue.”
“Excuuuse me for contributing. If I didn’t bring the veggie burgers, no one would have brought them.”
“Because no one else eats ’em.”
“Maybe if they tried it, they’d like it.” By Joy’s tone, he knew her words were aimed at him but he didn’t mind; her persistence to try new things came with good intentions although there was no way he’d give up hamburgers.
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Oh, quit acting like you don’t eat meat.”
“I don’t,” she squeaked in defense, screwing up her lovely face with a furrowed brow.
He chuckled, amused at her attempted anger, getting a kick out of her feisty reaction as he prodded her along. “Come on. I saw you with my own eyes eating bacon in my kitchen.”
“That was a slip.”
“A slip?” He snorted in feigned disbelief. “Is that what you call it? It’s not like you fell and a plate of bacon accidentally landed in your mouth.”
With her arms folded across her chest, Joy shook her head, rattling her ponytail. “It is what it is, whatever you may think.”
Tristan wolfed down his double cheeseburger doused with ketchup, layered with tomato, lettuce, and extra pickles, and considered getting up for another. “I think if you really don’t eat meat, then you wouldn’t’ve slipped—simple as that. But if you really want to eat meat, just do it, it won’t make you a bad person. Anyway, you eat fish, and to some people that’s considered meat.”
Joy gave him the evil eye through thick lashes. “You know what I think? You just hijacked this conversation because you don’t want to talk about the house,” she rumbled low enough no one else but Tristan could hear. “Don’t you understand? I have to be in there before the boys come. I need to get set up. I don’t want Vic—” She clenched her lips and turned her head as if rewinding the words, reconstructing her thought. “I don’t want my kids to show up and see I’m not ready for them when I’ve had plenty of time to get my act together, find a place to live, and create a space for them. I want to be settled. Order furniture. Set up their bedrooms. I need them to be comfortable on day-one, not give them a reason to complain, wishing they were living with their dad. The last thing I want is for them to live in limbo like I’ve been doing—”
The moment Sophia and Nicole came into focus, Joy clammed up.
Tristan jumped to his feet, ready to relieve Sophia, but the woman winked at him as if this fun-run wasn’t finished, detouring toward a patch of dandelions at the bottom of the grassy hill. Whatever the reason for Sophia and Nicole’s instant bond, he wasn’t about to question it. Seeing his daughter’s successful adjustment to this new life brought him peace of mind he never expected. Between Joy, Nick, Lily, and the Barbieri’s as a support system, being a single father wasn’t as traumatic as he’d anticipated, based on horror stories told by other divorced dads.
“Of all people to make a match—who’da thunk—your mom and my daughter would hit it off.” Squinting in Nicole’s direction, he wished he remembered his sunglasses, not so much to block the bright afternoon sunshine, but to hide happy tears welling up out of nowhere.
“Here ya go.” Joy handed him a napkin across the table. “Sentimental stud,” she teased with a tender smile. “Don’t think I don’t notice.”
“Damn allergies,” he mumbled, just in case anyone else caught him dabbing the dampness along his lower lashes. “I guess she’s filling the void with Nicole until her real grandchildren get here.”
“Nah. That’s my mother. She’s always been like that. She can’t stand me, but she has a soft spot for other people’s kids.”
Sophia and Nicole circled around again, aiming for the picnic table.
“That was an exciting adventure. I introduced Nicole to the ladies from bingo. And all Bob’s domino buddies.” Sophia plopped on the picnic bench beside Joy, snatched a napkin from the stack, then patted her forehead and upper lip. “Boy, am I pooped. That breeze feels good.”
“Here—” Tristan snapped the seal off his bottle of chilled water and offered it to Sophia.
The wind caught the loose napkins, blowing them down the length of the table, and Joy hopped up to collect them before they got away. Then she lifted the little girl onto the bench and offered some food from her plate. “Wanna try a bite of my veggie burger, Niblet?”
“Nuh-uh.” Nicole wrinkled her little button nose. “No tanks, Joy.”
Sophia frowned. “Don’t force the child to eat your fake meat.”
“Tsk. It’s not fake meat, Ma. Just vegetables.” Joy lifted the top of the bun revealing a thin, beige patty, with a mosaic of red, yellow, orange, and green specks pressed into the sickly circle.
“Vegetables smashed together to look like a hamburger.” Sophia waved her hand at Joy’s fabricated food.
“I’m not forcing her. Just asking her to try it.”
“You’re trying to turn her into an Episcopalian, aren’t you?” Sophia wagged her finger at her daughter. “It’s not your job. That’s his job.” She pointed to Tristan, then at Joy’s plate. “Do you eat stuff like that?”
“Nope. I’m a meatitarian.”
Sophia expelled a haughty huff through her nostrils. “Yeah, me, too.”
“I’m a pescetarian, Ma,” Joy corrected.
“Whatever, Joy.” Sophia rolled her eyes. “You ate meat when you were a kid. In fact, you ate anything that wasn’t nailed down. Did Joy mention, she wasn’t always this svelte supermodel? In ninth grade, we enrolled her in Camp Eatswithafork.” Sophia hiked a thumb at Joy.
“Uhh, no, Mother. I didn’t mention that fabulous summer at fat camp. And it was called Camp East Fork. Thanks for bringing it up.”
“What a waste of money sending you there. I have the only kid who gained weight. She didn’t lose it until she went away to college. They say freshman put on fifteen pounds. Well, she lost fifty. Her father and I didn’t even recognize her.”
Tristan sat in stunned silence, waiting for the hormonal tide to shift between these two strong-willed, estrogen-laden ladies.
“Come on, Nicole.” Sophia stood, smoothing her seersucker pants. “Let’s get a hotdog. Then we’ll have a snow cone, if it’s all right with your daddy.”
Tristan nodded his approval.
“‘No cone? I never had one of dose? Dat like an ice cream cone or sumtin?” Nicole slipped her hand into Sophia’s without question and they disappeared into the crowd.
“That was awkward.” Tristan eyed Joy, trying to imagine fifty extra pounds on her trim frame. No doubt she would have been just as beautiful.
Joy didn’t even seem embarrassed, as if she was used to this sort of public berating. Palms up, she shrugged. “That’s my mother. Welcome to my world. Better get out while you can.”
“Nah.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you—your name might be next on her shit list.”
“I think I can handle it.”
“You know I’m not trying to force your daughter into being anything she isn’t, don’t you?” Joy said with a gentle defensiveness.
“Did you hear me complain? If she wants to eat veggie burgers, I’m all for it.”
“Then why don’t you taste it? Just to see what it’s like. Maybe she’ll be willing to try it if Daddy does it.” Joy pushed her barely bitten burger toward him.
“Okay. I will. No biggie.” A veggie burger was the very last thing Tristan wanted in his mouth, but for Joy’s sake since she asked so sweet and to prove he was more open-minded than a three-year-old—he bit into it anyway. “Hmmm…Has an interesting flavor.” It was gross, with the texture of a dry sponge. He wanted to spit it out but bounced it around his tongue instead, hoping to avoid terrorizing his taste buds until it slid down the pipe, unchewed. “But I don’t want to make a meal of it. No offense.”
Rivulets of fragrant smoke painted the air over the barbeque pit, beckoning Tristan for another link of crisp sausage, or ribs, or anything red-blooded to wash out the nasty taste.
Instead, he grabbed the closest edible thing—a fist full of pretzels from the plastic bowl in the center of the table, while Joy nibbled on her weird food, happy as a bunny in a carrot patch.
“Don’t you miss eating meat? Forget bacon. I’m talking about a juicy, marinated filet mignon. Or roasted turkey with all the fixings on Thanksgiving. Or just a plain old hot dog.” Tristan hoped his lighthearted, curious tone was enough to keep Joy from fretting over the house, which, undoubtedly, would be ready on time.
“Sometimes,” she admitted with a reluctant half-smile. “But when I think of eating a calf or a little chick, my stomach cramps up.”
“And you don’t get the same physical reaction when you think of a cute fish-face?”
“Nope,” Joy said straightaway.
“You don’t feel a little bit sad for a salmon? Swimming upstream, going through hell and high-water to find its birthplace, just so it can spawn to make more salmon-babies for you to feast on.” Tristan almost felt bad for the hardworking fish.
“I’ve told you this before, I draw the line at fur and feathers.”
“Didn’t you learn anything from watching Finding Nemo the other night? It was like a public service announcement—fish are friends, not food.”
“Ha ha.” Joy swallowed the last bite of her burger, licking her fingertips like she didn’t want to waste a tasteless bit. “Food is fuel. I was an emotional eater for most of my life. It took me a while to break out of the habit. Now when I get upset, rather than pig out, I work out.”
“No kidding.” Tristan’s gaze skimmed her sun-kissed cheeks, down the length of her graceful neck and satiny shoulders connected to toned arms—shapely but not shredded.
“I can see the fruits of your labor.” Joy nodded toward his biceps, starting to get their healthy bulge back after a long stretch of neglect. “Working out is paying off.”
Flattered she noticed, Tristan smiled, flexing without intent. “You’ve been a good inspiration.” In more ways than one. “I even gave up cigarettes ’cause of you.” And without the ugly withdrawal symptoms he’d experienced whenever he tried quitting in the past. This attempt, the timing must have been right. It also helped being with the right person, keeping him grounded and out of the high-stress zone. Plus their mattress Olympics occupied his attention; he forgot all about those cancer sticks. “You oughta be a personal trainer. A fitness motivator.”
Joy shook her head. “I think I’m better off focusing my energy on Everyday’s Christmas.”
“You really have your heart set on that store, huh?” Of course she did and he knew it, considering it made up a chunk of their post-sex pillow talk, daydreaming about her professional five-year plans and beyond. She was passionate about the shop and he had no doubt one day it would be her name on the sign where Lorraine’s was now.
“I do. But I also have my heart set on the house…and you.”
“You got me.”
“For now.” The confidence in her voice faded.
Tristan gave her a sideways stare. “I thought we were past that crazy talk?”
“We are.” Joy twisted a napkin into a tight rope. “But still, I can’t help but wonder how you and my boys will manage to get along.”
He snatched her hands across the table and laced his fingers with hers. “Even if we don’t, don’t worry about it now. Give ’em time to get to know me first.”
“Tristan…” Throwing her head back with a heavy sigh, she blinked a few times at the bright blue sky as if all the answers were up there somewhere.
“What’s on your mind, sunshine?” Waiting for her words was torture but he downplayed his concern for her benefit.
When her gaze drifted back to his, a hint of suffering flickered in her tired eyes. Whatever was bothering her now must have been what kept her up last night, blaming the tossing and turning on an upset stomach. “If you, Mason, and Owen don’t get along, you and I are going to have to rethink our entire relationship.” She stole one hand away from him and, with her elbow propped on the table, rested her cheek against her palm.
“Seriously, I can’t imagine them not liking me. Can you?”
Joy lifted a shoulder in doubt with a nervous smile tugging one corner of her lips. “No. Not really. But I don’t want to jinx anything by assuming the best.”
“So you’d rather presume the worst?”
“Yep.” She nodded once.
Tristan narrowed his eyes, wishing he could read her thoughts in order to elevate her fears. “I bet you’re investing all this unwarranted energy, stressing for nothing. But if worrying makes you feel better, don’t stop because I’m asking you to.”
“If Victor could poison their impressionable minds against me, their own mother, I can only imagine what he’s filling their heads with about mommy’s friend since having it out with you over the phone.” Joy squeezed Tristan’s fingers, hesitation straining the delicate lines of her face. “When the boys get here in a few days, I don’t think introducing you right away is the best idea.”
Joy’s unexpected words threw Tristan off kilter. Not introduce me? How else would he employ his delicately planned damage control without meeting the boys? Disappointed, he released her hand and curled his fingers into tight fists, hiding his irritation by tapping his knuckles on the wooden tabletop to the music. “Are you kidding?”
She lowered her gaze, avoiding his, and shook her head.
“Then when?” His volume drew curious stares from people at the next table.
She rubbed her temples as if the conversation she started was too much to bear. “After they meet a few other people around town. Made some friends. This way when they meet you, you’ll just blend into the mix.”
“And in your grand plan do you have a specific date marked on the calendar for this calculated introduction?” Getting a straight answer from her was like talking to a perp. Now would be a good time for handcuffs, but rather than take her to the bedroom he was ready for the interrogation room.
“I was thinking…maybe toward the end of the summer, after they start school.”
“Wait—what? You were thinking? How long has this been on your mind? And why on God’s green earth would you bring it up now, here, in front of the entire town?” He whisper-shouted. “You’ll let me keep your dog but you won’t introduce me to your kids? What’s up with that?”
“Tristan, shhh…” She shrank in her seat. “Everyone can hear you.”
“I don’t care about everyone right now. All I care about is your decision to not introduce me to your kids.”
With a quick hand, Joy brushed a tear from her cheek as if she didn’t want him to see. As if he wouldn’t notice. “It’s not a decision. Just the best tactic I can come up with to make the transition smoother.”
“For them? Or for you?”
“For all of us.”
“And how, exactly, is that gonna work anyway since we’ll be next door neighbors?”
“I don’t exactly know but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Besides you and I can benefit from a little personal space considering I’m technically an overnight guest who never left.”
“Space? Don’t even go there—that’s a bad excuse for people scared of a good thing.”
“I’m not scared of anything.” But her wide glossy eyes and wavering tone revealed a different story.
“Coulda fooled me. You’re scared of what your kids’ll think. Of what your folks’ll say. What your ex-husband’ll do.” He strangled the air in his fists. “And you know damn well you’re more than a guest.” His voice escalated so he slammed his mouth shut, giving him a moment to respond thoughtfully and adjust his volume. Where the hell was all her gibberish coming from? “What’s really going on, Joy?”
“Calm down. Nothing’s going on. I have one shot to make things work with my boys and I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Yeah, I get that. But what about us?”
“I’m not talking about staying away from each other forever. Just for a little while.”
“And what about Nicole? You need some space from her too?”
“This has nothing to do with you and Nicole. I adore you both and you know it. But I can’t afford to screw things up with my kids.” Joy pressed her prayer hands to her profile and exhaled a long breath. “I don’t know what else to do. And you don’t even know if you’re still gonna be in town once the end of August rolls around.”
Clearly this domestic dilemma pained Joy as much as it killed him, so Tristian dialed down the intensity on his emotionally charged responses. He would’ve blurted out his intention to stay in Scenic View as a permanent fixture but he wanted to save that tidbit for a future surprise. Besides she’d probably presume he was saying it in the heat of the moment to undermine her grand plan.
“So…” He shrugged, making light of the whole situation—lighter than the hot air balloon everyone pointed at, drifting a quarter-mile above the firehouse. “This summer we’ll just wave across the yard and next summer we’ll plan some fun stuff—like beach trips, and barbeques, and baseball games.”
“Thank you.” Her weak words came out like a ragged whisper, as she swiped an escaped tear with her finger.
“Ya think you and I can find a way to spend time together without the kids?”
“I’m sure my mother won’t mind watching them so we can go on a date.”
“A date?” He chuckled. “That’s a giant step backward, isn’t it?”
“I need you to support me, not trash my idea. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Nobody’s trashing ideas. We haven’t put in proper dating-time anyway. It’ll be fun.”
“You know the key Lorraine gave me, so I could water her plants while she was out of town?”
“Yeah.”
“She said I could stay there until the house is done.”
Tristan cringed. “You really wanna do that?” His heart said no, but her glassy green gaze said it was something she had to do.
“I think it’s for the best. It’ll just be for a few days since you said the house is almost done anyway.”
“Starting tonight?”
Joy shook her head as if she really didn’t want to go at all. “Tomorrow.”
Looks like he’d be spending the week rushing through the finishing touches. With a conceding sigh, he said, “You oughta keep the van. You’re gonna need it to get around town.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Nick’s got a pickup truck I can use.”
“Another thing…Lorraine has new carpeting. Would it be all right if Rex stays with you?”
“Fine, Joy, fine.” Nodding at her every word like a bobble-head doll, Tristan swallowed her small demands and forced a smile. This was harder than negotiating his divorce only because he was in love with Joy and didn’t want to ruin a good thing over hurt feelings. “We’ll do it your way.”
But once the dust cleared, he wanted things back the way they were this morning, when he woke up beside her and everything in his life was perfect.
****
After the barbeque Joy dropped off Tristan and Nicole on Hollyhock Hill then cruised over to Lorraine’s place to water the plants. She’d attended to them yesterday so they’d be fine for another day or two, but she could benefit from quiet time and a little space.
Her executive decision may have seemed harsh and selfish and made him feel bad but it was something she had to do to ensure things were as perfect as possible for her nuclear family’s sake. It wasn’t meant to be a tug of war between her lover and her children, but if it were the case, her boys would win every time, hands-down, no questions asked. What else was a mother to do? Sacrifice came with the territory and Tristan needed to understand. Period. The end. No room for discussion.
They say talking to plants helps them flourish but Lorraine’s thriving greenery might be better off not hearing about Joy’s bad day so she turned on the radio instead.
After lowering the window shades for the evening and switching on the small lamp in the corner, she sat on the couch, replaying the dialog from the day, wondering if she said the right things, and somehow nodded off.
When her cell played Tristan’s happy ringtone, she jumped to her feet and grabbed the phone from her pocketbook.
“Hey sunshine. Coming home soon?” He sounded sad.
“I’m sorry.” She stretched and yawned. “I fell asleep. What time is it?”
“Almost ten.” Tristan snorted a familiar fake laugh. “I thought maybe you decided to move in there tonight and forgot to say goodbye.”
Another call beeped through and she glanced at the screen. It was Victor. “It’s him. I’ll call you right back.”
“I love you.” Tristan unleashed the four-letter-word that she no longer considered a crime, just as she cut over to the other call.
Joy’s heart sank, wishing she didn’t disconnect so fast. She would have said it too although she was still hesitant to say it first. It wasn’t their habit to say I love yous since their actions always spoke louder but tonight he must have felt the need for long-distant reinforcement since she shook up everything that seemed to be going so well.
She collected her frayed nerves before saying, “Hello.”
“God, you take forever to answer. What are you so busy doing?” Victor snapped as if she owed him an explanation.
Too mad at herself for ever upsetting the one she loved, Joy didn’t have the energy to retaliate against the jerk she despised. She was still reeling from Tristan’s I love you and the fact that he probably thought she didn’t feel the same since she didn’t return the words.
“You gotta pick up the boys at MacArthur Airport.”
“What?” Joy’s heart pounded, stunned. “When—now? You didn’t tell me they were flying in today.”
“Does it really matter? They’re here. It’s what you wanted, right?”
She stalled. “I would have appreciated a heads-up.”
“Here’s your heads-up—pick up your kids. They’re exhausted.”
Joy must’ve caught every red light along the route because it took forty minutes to get across town, onto the Long Island Expressway, and over to the airport. Then another twenty minutes to get into the parking lot, find a spot, and locate her children.
Too bad this reunion wouldn’t be like the ones in the movies: racing through the terminal into a flying hug. Before approaching Victor, Joy turned on her cellphone’s voice recorder app—something she should have done throughout the divorce—and tucked it into the breast pocket of her denim jacket to capture every word if he started trouble.
She peered around the pillar before making her presence known to her ex sandwiched between their two beautiful boys. Stepping up behind them, she knelt to their level in case she collapsed. “Hi, boys,” she said soft and low, like approaching a pair of skittish pups. “I’m so happy to see you.” Her fingers itched to hug them, but they just stared at her, confused, like she was some sort of dangerous stranger.
Victor turned with a scowl. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on us like that?”
Neither boy seemed willing to be the first to inch forward to greet their mother. Victor didn’t even suggest it. Joy didn’t push it. She just sucked back her tears and pretended nothing bothered her. Time, they just needed time—it was the mantra she needed to keep sane. They all needed time to adjust to this new equilibrium.
Joy led them toward the exit where she parked as close as she could.
“What the hell is that?” Victor screwed up his face at the sight of the Green Machine. “Where’s the Jaguar?”
“I-I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“It was totaled. I called the insurance company and filed a claim.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Why would I kid about that?”
“Totaled? Really?”
Joy nodded.
Victor let out a pent up sigh. “That’s just great, Joy. You know how much that car was worth? My folks are gonna be flipping pissed. They warned me not to let you drive it while you were in Florida, never mind let you take it to New York. I was gonna drive it home. Now what am I gonna do?”
“Buy a plane ticket.” Joy hoped.
Victor glared. “You know I hate flying. I only made this trip because of the car and them…” He hitched his thumb at the children like they were some terrible inconvenience. “I only had enough tranqs for the flight here.”
“Have a few cocktails.” Joy’s gaze followed a plane taking off, wishing Victor was on it.
“That’ll just make me have to get up to pee a dozen time.”
Then wear a diaper, ya big baby, Joy almost spewed but she managed to restrain her tongue. “If you want to spend the night in the Scenic View Inn, I’ll pay for it.” She hoped he didn’t really expect her to cover his expenses but she didn’t want him staying with her.
Victor loaded the suitcases in the back of the van as Joy strapped the boys into the backseat. While leaning over, she took an extra moment to inhale the powdery scent of their matching mop-tops. God, how she missed them. Then, out of nowhere, Victor bumped against her backside.
“How about your mother watches the boys and you spend the night with me?” He squeezed her hip. “For old time’s sake.”
Joy froze. Like hell. Her purse with the pepper spray was between the front seats, out of reach. Damn. “No, Victor,” she said, firm, clear, and calm, as if disciplining the dog.
“Aww, don’t get your hopes up. I’m just kidding.” He released his grip. “Still can’t take a joke, huh?” Victor opened the passenger door and climbed in. “I just wanted to see what you’d say.”
What did he think she’d say? Joy wondered as she slid into driver’s side, afraid to know.
“Let’s get the boys settled in first, then I’ll take a taxi to the hotel. Breaking the news that they’re moving to this one-horse town traumatized them enough. I don’t want to ruin their first night in their new home.”
“I’m not officially in our final destination yet. It’s still being…refurbished.”
“Don’t tell me you’re squeezing in with your folks.”
“No, I’ve got my own place.” Sort of.
“Thank God. No offense, but I’m not in the mood to deal with your father.”
Because you broke his little girl’s heart.
Victor’s phone rang some flowery tune. “Just be quiet, okay?” he warned before answering.
“No problem.” The less Joy had to speak to this castrated hellhound, the better off she’d be.
“Of course I’m not spending the night with her. Stop worrying,” he said in a strangely sweet intimate whisper Joy didn’t recognize. “I’m going to a hotel. But even if I did stay at her place, you know nothing would ever happen. Come on, Felicity, we’ve been through this. I thought you were over it. I know you’re hormonal. But I told you already—I’m not even attracted to her.”
Joy rolled her eyes, the feeling a million times mutual. The fact that Felicity was jealous of Victor and Joy being together was comical since the woman seemed quite confident when she snatched him away while he was still married. But being eight months pregnant must be getting the best of her.
The cellphone in Joy’s jacket pocket rang Tristan’s tune but she was driving and couldn’t answer even if she wanted to, so she let the call go to voicemail. At the first red light, she changed the setting to Vibrate. No need to instigating any curiosity in her ex.
Cruising down the LIE, Joy intermittently glanced in the rearview mirror at her boys, asleep like two cherubs. As the reality of being with her little loves set in, a wave of warmth and calm washed over her, although she was undeniably more than a little scared what their reaction will be once Victor left. She gave herself a silent pep talk while ignoring her passenger rambling about his soon-to-be bride and their baby on the way. She had to make things work here with the boys because she couldn’t stand the thought of moving back to Florida to be near them if they insisted on being with their father.
When they pulled into the narrow gravel driveway, Victor snorted, “This is it? It’s smaller than my shed.”
“It’s my friend’s house.”
“Don’t tell me—the friend I spoke to on the phone?”
“A different friend. I’m housesitting while she’s out of town.” Joy cut the engine and got out, careful not to slam the van door and wake the children.
“How do I know Lorraine’s not really a dude ready to pounce on me?”
“Does it look like a man lives here?” She unlocked the front door and stepped over the threshold, setting her pocketbook on the armchair beside the fireplace. To her delight Victor gagged on the unexpected odor of mothballs and disinfectant, which she was used to by now. Everything inside Lorraine’s place was lacy, and doilies, and mismatched pastel floral-print, which must have put her ex at ease, although she wasn’t thrilled being alone with the man that brought her the most misery. “The boys can stay in the bedroom.”
“Theee bedroom?” Victor shook his head in disbelief.
“What did you expect? Lorraine’s a single woman. This is a one-bedroom bungalow.”
While Joy turned down the blanket on the full-size mattress, Victor carried in the sleeping boys one at a time and set them side-by-side before bringing in their bags. She slipped off their little sneakers, debated if she should remove their street clothes but decided to leave them dressed since they looked too peaceful to disturb, then tiptoed out of the bedroom and shut the door.
Victor dropped two suitcases beside the fireplace. “Where’s that rat you used to have? At the pound?”
“Rex is staying with another friend until my place is ready.”
“Look who’s suddenly Princess Popularity of Scenic Skew. You seem to have rekindled a lot of friendships in a short amount of time, huh? What about the friend I spoke to on the phone? Is he your boyfriend?”
Yes, Joy wanted to scream. Only a few hours had passed but she missed Tristan like crazy, wished he was here to support her, yet glad he wasn’t so he didn’t have to suffer through this nonsense with her ex. Instead she sighed, drained dry by the non-stop sequence of emotional events. “Does it really matter?”
“Yeah.” Victor bobbed his head. “It kinda does. I want to know who’s lurking around my boys.”
“He’s…” Tempted to admit she loved the man in question, Joy bit her tongue and blurted, “A guy from work. I think he’s gay or something. I dunno. I never asked.”
“You got a job?” He snickered. “Doing what?”
Joy didn’t want to give in to his taunting interrogation, keeping the important secrets close to her heart, but she couldn’t help it. “The Christmas Shoppe in town.”
“Wow. You got new friends. A new job. A new house. And now you got the boys too.” Victor paced the cramped living room, counting off Joy’s assets with an odd glimmer in his beady eyes. “Had I known you’d be living the good life I never would’ve agreed to let you take the boys out of state.” He chuckled malevolently. “I was so sure once you got here, you and your parents would be at each other’s throats. I even bet Felicity you’d be back in Florida by July, making all this aggravation a waste of everyone’s time.” He circled around, getting closer to her. “But look at you now.” She stepped back until her shoulder blades bumped against the wall and the heat of his sour breath melted her cheek. “You got it all, don’t you? Including my kids.”
Joy swallowed a bitter lump of fear she hadn’t felt since before leaving Florida. No, not fear… She wasn’t afraid, physically, of this pipsqueak man-child. More like repulsion mixed with the uncertainty of his manipulative motive. Would he kiss her or clock her? Either way, she could handle the situation. “I’ll call a taxi for you now.”
“I was thinking, what if the boys wake up confused and scared being in a strange new place?” Victor peeled off his nylon jacket and plopped on the sofa, making himself at home.
“We’ll be fine.”
“But they don’t want you.” He dealt the low-blow in a subtle matter-of-fact tone that stung more than Joy would ever admit. “They told me so.”
She tightened her lips into a thin line and nodded. “I’ll manage.”
“I know it hurts to hear but it’s true. The boys want their daddy.” He shrugged as if he wasn’t guilty of brainwashing the children. “I even have an affidavit from a reputable child psychologist saying this big move is a bad idea. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use it, but I’ll be forced to give it to my lawyer if you aren’t nice to me.”
“Nice to you? Seriously? The only reason the boys have anything against me is because you poisoned their innocent little minds. What did the psychologist say about that?” A million potty-words popped in her head, all of which would spark a fight she wasn’t in the mood to finish.
“I did what I had to do to ensure I’m the favorite parent. All’s fair in love and war, baby. You would have done the same thing if you could’ve.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Joy gritted her teeth. “Because I’m not a twisted troll like you.”
“Troll?” Victor shot up, edging dangerously close. “You’re beautiful when you’re all pumped up, you know that?” He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “Can’t we stop fighting for one night and pretend we like each other for a change?”
“I’m more comfortable with the reality of us hating each other.” Joy sidestepped to get away, hoping her phone was still recording this conversation, but Victor pinned her in the corner.
“Hate? I don’t hate you, if that’s what you think. Do I think marrying you was a huge mistake? Yeah, I’m not gonna lie. I should’ve cut you loose at the altar after the miscarriage, but you were so gung-ho to hold on to me, I figured, what the hell”—a malevolent smirk curled his lips—“she’s good in bed and gives a decent blow job.”
Raising her chin gave Joy an inch of height, enough to stare down her nose at the lowlife she once loved. “If anyone shoulda done the dumping, it was me.”
“You would’ve been doing both of us a favor in the long run. But then again, if we never stuck it out as long as we did, Mason and Owen wouldn’t be here today. I’m tired of this war. Let’s just make peace and then we can be like all the other divorced parents, sharing custody, getting along like old friends.”
Joy’s fingers trembled with rage. She wished she could pretend, for the sake of sparing herself from whatever dopey ideas Victor had in mind, but she couldn’t. “You’re not my friend. I don’t even like you. Actually I borderline despise you. If it weren’t for the children, I wouldn’t even speak to you.”
“Come on, Joy. Stop being such a bitch. You used to be so sweet when you were fat. Maybe it was all the cookies in your bloodstream. Stop starving yourself to prove a point just ’cause you’re mad at me.”
“I’ve never starved myself.”
“You quit eating meat. That’s close enough.”
“It had nothing to do with my feelings for you, and everything to do with making healthier choices. Why are you so ignorant?”
His dark eyes seemed fathomless, like black marbles in his shiny skull. “You always did play hard to get. From what I recall, it was kind of fun.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I only played hard to get with you, Victor.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You give it away easy to other guys? Is that it?”
Joy shook her head, realizing Victor would never comprehend how repulsive he was to her after everything he put her through.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re divorced. Give it all away to anyone you want, I don’t really care. And you can still play hard to get with me, but I’ll still win,” he sang, tauntingly, like this was some kind of playground game. “I always get what I want and you know it.” Victor closed his eyes and puckered up as he leaned in for a kiss.
“No, you won’t.” Joy kneed him in the groin. She could have gone for a harder hit but she didn’t want his shriek to wake the boys. The last thing she needed was for Mason and Owen to side with Victor. Mommy beat up Daddy.
When Victor buckled in half, cupping his crotch, Joy darted to the bathroom and locked the door. Why the hell did she let this situation get so far out of control? What was she thinking? She snorted at her murky hindsight, knowing exactly what was on her mind—she wanted her children to see her as the quintessential good mom. The better parent. The peacekeeper. Once she had the kids in the van she should have burned rubber before their father climbed in the passenger seat. She had no good excuse for giving her ex the benefit of the doubt that he could be a decent person for once in his rotten life other than wanting this to be a smooth transition for the boys’ sake, however it turned into a godawful judgment call as bad as marrying the guy in the first place.
She pulled the cellphone from her pocket, lucky to find the red battery icon with two percent left and the voice recorder app still collecting data, but that didn’t mean both sides of the conversation were captured. If she were smarter, she would have spent some time playing with the functionality a few times to ensure it worked. Hopefully she had enough threatening dialog to use against Victor if need be.
But what if she didn’t?
She ought to call the police, but what if they didn’t see things her way? What if Victor looked like the poor victim he played so well? Joy didn’t want to call her folks and drag them into this domestic dispute. And she wouldn’t dare get Tristan involved. Seeing his name appear in the text message notification window made her heart flutter, but she didn’t have time to read it.
Maybe she ought to listen to the recording? She pressed a button, stopping the numbers on the counter, then hit the black square to Save Recording. Her thumb hovered over the green triangular Playback button, but what if Victor heard it? No doubt he’d throw a tantrum and smash the device to smithereens. Then she’d be shit out of luck for sure.
Instead she tapped the red circle to start a new recording but the phone died. Now she couldn’t call anyone.
“A door won’t keep me out, Joy.” Victor rapped on the other side. “I’ll rip it right off the hinges.”
Joy laughed at his exaggerated ability. Still she didn’t want to take the chance of him trashing Lorraine’s house, so she disengaged the lock but didn’t come out.
Victor turned the knob, and the door swung open in eerie silence. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he teased, limping over the threshold.
Fury set her blood ablaze yet she refused to squirt an angry tear. Best to be done with this insane game and get on with the night. Knowing Victor, he wouldn’t let up until he exhausted every opportunity to have his way with her. She just had to keep dodging him until he ran out of steam. Just like old times.
“Oh, come on.” He puffed out his chest, looking more like one of his little boys than a grown man. “Please. I’ll beg if you want.”
“No, thanks. Really. I’m totally fine with abstinence.”
“Why are you being so stubborn? It’s not like we never had sex before. Geez, Joy. You can’t deny it was the best part of our relationship.” Victor swayed her in his arms, working his way around until his hips pressed up against her from behind.
A bit of vomit burned a trail up her throat. Once they cleared the honeymoon stage, eons ago, sex with this crude creature had never been anything more than an obligatory effort on her part, but now wasn’t the time to mention it.
“It’s the least you can do since totaling the Jaguar without telling me.” The familiar itty-bitty pencil stub in his pants poking her bottom was barely anything to be worried about.
“What about Felicity?”
“This has nothing to do with her. I love her, but she hasn’t let me touch her in months. I’m aching for it. Consider this a medical procedure, like a sperm donation. And if you don’t have a boyfriend like you say, then you must be as hard up as me. We can help each other out. How ’bout I throw in a full body massage when we’re done. Tempting, right? I’ll work the kinks right out of your disposition.” He laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “You got a rubber around here?”
To end this slow torture, Joy blurted out the first lie to pop in her mind, wishing she thought of it sooner. “Can’t you take a hint? I have my period.”
“Ugh…gross.” Victor released his grip as if she were a leper to soap his hands, scrubbing them under steaming hot water. “You could’ve just kicked me in the balls harder a second time. Thanks a lot for ruining the mood.”
“Sor-ree,” Joy sang, feigning remorse. She lifted a careless shoulder, secretly smiling, glad her menstrual monkey wrench still worked like a charm. “I know how much you hate blood.”
“Well, then…” Victor softened his tone to almost an angelic plea, eyes wide with pathetic hope. “How ’bout a little oral action instead?” His sausage-fingers popped the button of his pants.
Tsk. Is this what her life has come to? Deflecting her ex? Bad enough his overt passes made her skin crawl. Now she had to give explanations to stupid questions. “You know how they say ‘it isn’t what you say, but how you say it’? This time it actually is what you say.”
Confused, he held the waistband closed, unsure if he should tug the zipper all the way up or the rest of the way down. “So, is that a yes?”
Clueless dipshit. What did she ever see in this turd-muffin? “I’d like to help you out. Really.” Joy aimed the tip of her pinky to her upper lip and let another lie loose. “But have a cold sore coming on. See?” She angled her head to show off the non-existent blister.
“Ugh, get away from me.” Victor stepped back, squeezing into the tight corner of the toilet. “Keep your afflictions to yourself. Geez. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”
Laughing on the inside, Joy left her ex hanging in the bathroom to dry out while she found her pocketbook in the living room to retrieve her cellphone charger, anxious to check the message from Tristan and get a word to him that she’s all right.
****
Propped on the couch with the cellphone in hand, Tristan grew restless for information on Joy’s situation.
“What is she doing?” he muttered as he alternated positions, sitting then pacing, his gaze bouncing between the clock over the fireplace and out the living room window.
He expected her to call back already after she’d disconnected so abruptly. Worse, she didn’t respond to any of his texts or answer his calls, and now when he dialed her number it went straight to voicemail.
A million excuses to swing by Lorraine’s house to check on Joy crossed his anxious mind, but one big, fat, stupid reason kept him in place—what she’d said today: It’s for the best. She wanted to do this on her own terms, without his involvement; an agonizing executive decision she’d made without consulting him. She was a grown woman and probably thought she knew what she was doing, although he had an entirely different opinion, which apparently didn’t count for much. Until she realized what a mistake she made, he’d give her the benefit of the doubt along with some breathing room.
Tristan dropped onto the couch, rested his elbows on his knees, and touched his forehead to the cellphone sandwiched between prayer-hands. Her kids just arrived. She was probably getting them settled. This was something she wanted to do alone. No reason to be concerned. Please, Lord, let me be right. Don’t let anything go wrong.
When the newspaper boy slammed the morning edition against the screen door, jolting Tristan from his conversation with God, the worry he’d been holding back hit him full force. He phoned his best friend for back up and within minutes Nick came over with Lily to keep an eye on Nicole.
Tristan clipped the helmet under his chin, revved the engine, put up the kickstand, then sped down Hollyhock Hill, keeping up with the worst case scenarios racing through his brain. For no good reason except his peace of mind, he needed to see Joy, to know she was okay.
During the ten torturous minutes following the dusty blue sky toward the other side of town, Joy’s hard words infiltrated his thoughts, taunting his better judgment, making him second-guess this wary trip. Maybe he ought to turn around. If she wanted his involvement, no doubt, she would ask for it.
But what if something was wrong? She might never forgive him for being the concerned interloper but he’d never forgive himself for not listening to his gut.
Tristan could understand her concern—wanting to keep him and Victor from running into each other. The last thing this middle-aged man needed at this point of his life was getting into fisticuffs like some schoolyard punk. But putting their hearts on the back-burner for her boys seemed more severe than he could stand.
Just in case something was wrong, he’d jammed his off-duty revolver in his holster and stuffed the cuffs in his back pocket. He rode by Lorraine’s house and noticed the bedroom window was dark, but the white lace curtains in the living room glowed like a blank movie screen.
Too early for Joy to be awake unless she hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Was it too soon to worry?
Playing it cool, he cruised up and down the block a few times, hoping the rumbling tailpipes would pique her attention enough to open the front door. When that didn’t work, he parked behind the Green Machine and quickly cut the engine, debating while dismounting whether or not this was an asinine move for a grown man.
Maybe I’ll just sneak a peek through the window. He hung the helmet on the sissy bar before creeping up the driveway. He’d only been inside this bungalow one other time—when he first arrived in town, tagging along for the day while Nick was the Scenic View Fire Marshal, inspecting fireplaces and smoke detectors.
Resorting to a peeping Tom had him itching for a smoke for the first time in weeks. He inched along the porch, hugging the shingles to glimpse between the eyelet drapery, wishing he could un-see what he saw—Joy in the arms of some dude. Not just any dude, he presumed by the guy’s lack of height and hair, but her dreaded ex.
What the hell? Like watching a train wreck in slow motion, he couldn’t rip his eyes from the damaging scene: Victor grabbing Joy, pawing at her blouse, while she struggled to get free.
Tristan’s blood pressure soared. There goes the last ounce of self-control. No way was he leaving now. He rubbed a clammy hand down his face, deciding which bad move to make. The choices were limited to kicking down the door, which would probably yield the quickest results, or knocking casually like making an after-party pit-stop. Either one was bound to mess up the plan to keep her worlds from colliding.
Too bad.
Tristan held his breath as he jiggled the handle on the screen door, relieved to find it unlocked. Then with a gentle hand he twisted the knob of the entry door, exhaling when it turned like he cracked Fort Knox. “Hey,” he shouted, one hand on the pistol at the small of his back.
“What the—” Victor let go of Joy, and she fell to the floor.
“Can’t you tell when a woman doesn’t want you?”
“What are you?” Victor scoffed. “The neighborhood watch?”
“Something like that.” Tristan sized up Joy’s ex as he stared down the short man. “No means no, buddy. I heard it from outside. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear her.”
“Joy, who is this clown?” Victor hooked a thumb in Tristan’s direction.
Joy sat on the floor stunned, covering what the torn blouse exposed.
“Don’t worry ’bout who I am, Victor. You got bigger problems.”
“Oh, I get it. You set me up.” He shoved Joy with the tip of his shoe. “Bitch. I should’ve known.”
“Don’t blame her. You set yourself up, pushing yourself on her.”
“Take it easy, man.” Victor chuckled. His tight lips bent into a forced smile and his posture softened, palms up like a cornered perp, switching from offensive to defensive mode. Fight or flight, Tristan was ready for it. “Everything’s cool. It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, yeah?” The scumbag’s hollow words didn’t sway Tristan. They only fed the fury, bringing out the bad-cop beast. “What do you think it looks like?”
“We’re just working things out. Marital issues, you know. Thinking about giving it another try. For the boys’ sake.” Victor lifted Joy off the floor by her biceps. “We don’t wanna deal with any more lawyers, child psychologists, and custody nonsense. Right, babe?”
Victor’s story stank like a dead body. “Yeah, right.” Tristan snorted. “That’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Geez, Tristan. Are you drunk or something?” Joy interjected with a disgusted twang. “I’ve asked you before, not to drop by on your way home from the bar just ’cause you see the lights on.” She spat erroneous allegations in his direction while her eyes floated guiltily toward the floor. “Victor and I are working things out. Is it so hard to comprehend?” The story she spun made his head dizzy.
Tristan squinted in disbelief, speechless, struggling to make sense of the confounded situation. He’d witnessed enough domestic disputes to pick up on a lie when someone was in a threatening position. “Seriously, Joy? Everything’s okay? Tell me the truth.” No doubt she was strong enough to break Victor’s nose so why did she let her ex treat her so bad? Unless she had something, or someone, to lose. Victor’s words came back like a boomerang—for the boys’ sake.
“Mind keeping it down?” Victor jutted his chin toward the bedroom. “Our kids are asleep.”
“Look at me, Joy,” Tristan insisted, but she refused. Meanwhile her ex-husband, glued to her side, hadn’t taken his eyes off him.
“Trust me. We’re just fine,” Victor answered in Joy’s place. “Right, babe? Tell your friend everything’s good,” he said cryptically to Joy.
“Please, just…go.” Joy locked eyes with Tristan as she uttered the painful words. When Tristan failed to move at her command, she rolled her eyes. “Geez, are you deaf or something? Get out.”
“I’d listen to her if I were you before I’m forced to call the cops,” Victor said, with smug victory, his arm possessively around Joy’s waist as she stood there letting him touch her.
Sickened by the sight of them, Tristan backed out the way he came. “No problem, man. Sorry to bother you. Bye, Joy.”
He let the screen door slam then hurried down the driveway and started the Harley with an explosion that woke the neighborhood. Racing the sunrise, he swore all the way home to never listen to his gut again.
****
Kicking out Tristan was one of the most painful things Joy’d ever done, in the ranks of leaving her boys behind to set up this new life on Long Island. The distraught look in his disappointed eyes made her feel even worse. But she couldn’t risk calling Victor’s bluff, unsure if her ex had the power to make his threat come true.
“Sorry about that.” Joy separated herself from Victor’s clutches with a subtle spin as she began prepping Lorraine’s couch for the uninvited overnight guest. “I can’t imagine what sparked that surprise visit.”
“He your boyfriend?” Victor closed the entry door and turned the lock.
“Tsk. Don’t be ridiculous.”
He ran his fingers over his bald head as if the hair was still there. “This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I’m kinda jealous.”
Joy shot him a crooked look. “What are you talking about? He’s the gay guy from work. Just a harmless friend of Lorraine’s. He’s probably checking up on the place more than checking in on me.”
She prayed Tristan got home safe. Once she found the chance to explain the scenario to him, he was bound to understand her bizarre overreaction.
As she leaned over to spread open the afghan, Victor hovered beside her hip like a conjoined twin. “So you’re really not seeing anyone?” His softening persistence was vaguely reminiscent of the hopeful college boy who sought her attention eons ago, however the odd attraction was long gone. For her anyway.
“I have too much going on. There’s no time for dating.” Give it up already.
“So you must be nice and horny then.” He fondled the armrest with anxious fingers.
Joy swallowed the rising bile and straightened to her full height. “Does it matter? I already told you, it’s that time of the month. Plus I’ve got a cold sore coming on.”
Victor’s tongue darted out like a reptile, wetting his lips while he stared at Joy’s mouth, jogging every nauseating memory she managed to suppress. “Your lip looks fine to me. And I think I can get past the Red Sea at high tide.”
Was he just calling her bluff? She hoped so. “I don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret. After all, you promised Felicity nothing like that would happen.”
“If you keep our little booty call a secret, I won’t have anything to worry about. You can keep a secret, right? Because maybe I can throw the psychologist’s report in the shredder.”
Joy locked her lips and tossed the invisible key over her shoulder.
“Good.” Victor pressed his mouth hard against hers.
She clenched her teeth to keep out his penetrating tongue. It was like kissing a toad, and not the Prince Charming kind.
He pulled back and smirked. “Hold that thought. I gotta take a piss.”
Thank God for small miracles. With seconds to spare, Joy grabbed her cellphone tethered to the electrical outlet, relieved it had enough juice to turn on. She found the voice recording app, pressed the Record button, set it screen-down on the end table, and covered it with a magazine just to be safe. This would only work against Victor as long as he kept talking so she needed to encourage the conversation while letting him get around the bases.
Victor returned with his pants around his waist but the button undone. “Where were we?”
She forced an attentive smile and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch cushion with her back against the armrest as he snuggled beside her with one hand around her shoulder and the other on her knee, diving in for another kiss. She turned her head to deflect his gesture, giving him the side of her neck instead, ensuring the recorder got a clear shot of her voice. “If I do this, you promise not to take my boys away from me?”
His lizard-tongue lapped the side of her face, inside her ear, everywhere but her mouth. “We’ll see. I’m not making promises yet.”
“Just threats.”
“Threats work. You give me what I want, maybe I’ll give you what you want,” he rasped against her skin and she hoped the recorder picked up the sound. “I forgot how sexy you are. Take your pants off.”
Joy crossed her legs tight, locking her foot behind her calf. “What’s the hurry?”
“Come on.” He pulled away, cupped her chin, and stared into her eyes. “This has been a long, crappy day. I’m not in the mood for games or foreplay or nonsense. Do what I say and don’t make me get rough. And most of all, don’t make me call the lawyer. I really don’t want to take the boys away from you, trust me when I say it. Felicity can’t handle them now, never mind when the new baby comes.”
Joy stood, stripping off her pants and shirt without a show, more like a quick change in the dressing room at Walmart. The more dirt she collected on Victor the better she could build a case against him.
“That’s it,” Victor crooned. “Take it off, babe.”
“Don’t you feel the least bit guilty being with me while your pregnant fiancée is home alone, thinking you’re just dropping off the boys?” Joy spoke louder than necessary and intentionally clear.
“She already thinks I’m screwing around on her. Accuses me all the time.” Victor bit his bottom lip as his sleazy gaze trailed her cleavage to her crotch, making Joy’s skin crawl. “Enough talking. Let’s get down to business.”
“Whaddaya wanna do?” Joy kept her distance, standing in the middle of the dim room, prepared for Victor to lunge at her.
Instead he sat back and lifted his hips as he shimmied his pants down to his shoes. “You know what I want you to do—bend over so I can bury myself to the hilt inside you. You got a rubber?”
“Why would I? I’m not dating anyone. Besides, I’ve got my period, so it should be safe.” Joy winced, realizing the fib could only go so far.
“No way. I ain’t taking a chance doing this without one. I’ve got a baby on the way any day now. I’m not gonna risk knocking up my ex too.”
“Let me check Lorraine’s nightstand.”
Victor cocked a doubtful brow. “Seriously? You mean to tell me the woman who owns this granny pad keeps a stash handy?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s a total slut,” Joy lied.
She tiptoed into the bedroom and shook Mason and Owen’s shoulders until they groaned, fighting to keep sleeping. She opened the curtain, letting the early morning sunlight spill over their little chubby faces. “Boys,” she whispered, planting the seed of an idea in their dreams, “Want cookies and milk? Come on. Wake up time.” She prayed the tempting words registered as she crept out, shutting the door.
“Well?” Victor asked hopeful, his teeny peeny in his fist.
She showed him her empty hands like a magician. “I didn’t find them. She must be all out. Sor-ree.”
“Daddy?” Mason cried, followed by a thump on the hardwood floor then a jiggle of the doorknob. “I wanna go home.” The boy emerged, rubbing his eyes.
Owen trailed behind. “Daddy? Where am I?”
Victor hiked up his drawers and jeans. “Hey, boys. Everything all right?” He shot a laser look at Joy as she slipped on the buttonless blouse then stepped into her pants.
All she had to do was invite her mother into the mix. And Bruno. And her father. Everyone. Anyone to ruin Victor’s plan. Anyone except Tristan.
“Can I have cookies?” Owen asked.
Mason nodded. “And milk?”
“No, boys. Go back to bed.” Victor pushed them toward the bedroom.
“But the sun is out,” Owen said.
“I’m not tired,” Mason added.
“Since we’re all up, why don’t we go to the diner for pancakes?” Joy clapped, hoping her idea was a hit.
The boys studied Lorraine’s extensive tchotchke collection like some unearthed treasure fit for a fairy tale museum without glancing in their mother’s direction as if she were invisible. “Where’s Felicity?” they asked in unison.
While Victor fielded the question, Joy dug out a sleeve of Digestive Biscuits from Lorraine’s pantry. They didn’t compare to Chips-A-Hoy but were good enough in a pinch. There was no milk in the refrigerator but she located a container of cocoa powder and quickly mixed it with tap water.
“We already went over this, boys. She’s home, waiting for the new baby to come.”
“I miss her. I wanna go home,” Owen whined.
“When are we going home, Daddy?” Mason asked, sadly.
“You’re getting a new home soon, here on Long Island near Gramma Sophia and Grampa Bob.”
“With you?” Mason asked his father.
“Sorry, champ.” Victor rubbed the boy’s mop-top. “You’ll be living with Mommy.”
“But I don’t want to live with her,” Owen whined.
“Me, neither.” Mason glared at Joy from the corner of his eye.
“Enough,” Victor shouted, rubbing his temples.
Joy sat at the kitchen table, observing the exchange. He created this war; it was his problem to fix now.
While the men hashed it out, slinging insults about Joy’s mothering skills as if she weren’t in the room, she sneaked away to snatch her cellphone and backed up the incriminating recordings to The Cloud for safekeeping.
“She’s mean. I don’t like her. You don’t like her either, Daddy. You said so. Why would you make us live with her?” Owen wailed.
Unable to avoid the hateful words from the mouth of her babe, Joy huddled in the furthest corner of the living room to fend off the bite of oncoming tears, denying Victor the pleasure of seeing her break.
She squelched her gut instinct to phone Tristan for moral support and texted Lily instead, attaching a link to the recordings. Then she messaged Bruno to tell him Victor was in town harassing her and asked if he would come over to make sure things didn’t get further out of hand.
“I thought Felicity was gonna be our mommy,” Mason squealed. “That’s what you said, Daddy.”
“The discussion is over.” Victor stepped out of the kitchen. “I’ve had it.” Deep lines etched his exhausted face.
With smug satisfaction, Joy enjoyed watching her ex suffer. Good.
“I’m gonna crash on the couch for a while.” He plopped down, stretched out, and flung a forearm over his eyes to block the sunshine. “You’re in charge,” he grumbled.
Showtime. Joy’s heart pounded. Anything she said in this moment would be used against her until the end of time. She’d better make it good.
Rather than force her God-given title as loving mother down the throats of her brainwashed babies, she’d treat them like two strange little guests, using the standoffish method that worked well with Tristan’s daughter.
After a cleansing breath, she walked into the kitchen. “How’re the cookies?”
Mason frowned. “Not so good.”
“Yeah, well…they’re my friend Lorraine’s cookies. If your dad told me you’d be here today I would have gone to the store yesterday. What kind do you like? Let me guess…” She studied their faces as they turned to each other, making sense of this forgotten woman. “You’re a chocolate chip guy.” She pointed knowingly at Owen. To Mason, she said, “Oreos for you, right?”
They nodded, and Joy was relieved they let her win that much.
“Is this where we’re gonna live from now on?” Owen’s voice trembled.
“No, buddy. It’s not. Our home’s not ready yet. Soon, though.” She hoped. “Hey, wanna take a ride with me to the supermarket? You can pick out whatever you’d like to eat.”
“Like corndogs?” Mason asked. “Daddy and Felicity let us eat them all the time.”
Joy fought a smile, satisfied her eldest son seemed to warm up enough to have a conversation. “Sure, you can get corndogs. Why not? They sound delish.”
“And ice cream?” Owen suggested with childish enthusiasm. “Sprinkles, and whipped cream, and cherries, too?”
“We’re gonna need peanut butter. Jelly. Bread. And Fluff.” Mason listed the items, counting off on his fingers.
“Oh, yeah, can’t forget the Fluff.” Joy jotted a quick list on the refrigerator notepad as the pressure in her chest eased a smidge once she realized she’d struck the right chord.
“What about Daddy?” Mason looked concerned. “He’s coming with us, right?”
“Well, he’s kinda tired from being up all night.” Joy could’ve gone for a nap too, but rekindling the relationship with her boys gave her an adrenalin high she never wanted to come down from; a rush so potent she’d forgotten about Victor’s sexual harassment. “He said it was totally fine if we go shopping without him.” She waved at the unconscious lump on the couch.
Owen eyed his mother with caution. “I dunno…”
“Come on, O.” Mason nudged his little brother.
“Owen can stay here if he wants and watch TV while your dad sleeps. I forgot to mention…” A bright idea to sweeten the bait sparked in Joy’s brain. “I thought we’d stop by Grandpa Bob and Grandma Sophia’s first ’cause I know they’re super-excited to see you.”
“Grandma and Grandpa.” Owen perked up. He ran to find his sneakers in the bedroom, put them on the wrong feet, and stood by the door. Not wanting to be the last in line, Mason followed.
So far, so good. Joy grabbed her purse, hoping this was the first turn in the right direction.
****
Tristan sat at the kitchen counter staring into a black cup of coffee, still reeling from the shellshock of walking in on Joy and Victor.
“She just threw you out?” Nick asked.
“Yep.” Tristan replayed the unforeseen conversation, trying to digest the noxious exchange. Instead of being her hero, he was nothing but a big zero. A parallel universe would have made more sense.
“I’ve known Joy forever. I doubt she wants anything to do with that lowlife creep. She’s gotta be doing it for the boys’ sake.” Lily’s cellphone vibrated and she pulled it from her sweater pocket. “Hold up, fellas. Speak of the devil. Joy just texted me.” She showed the message on the screen to Tristan.
—Know a good custody lawyer? I’m gonna need one—Joy wrote.
“There’s a link attached.” Tristan pressed it and was directed to a Cloud account where audio files were stored.
“Maybe it’s not for you to hear otherwise she would have sent it to you.” Lily tried snatching the phone, but Nick caught her.
“Lily. Let Tristan listen.”
Reluctantly, she sat back.
“He’s nobody,” Joy said, “Just someone from work. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
Hearing her speak as though their budding relationship meant nothing didn’t faze Tristan beyond a little gurgle in his sour stomach. She was playing Victor’s malicious game, what else was she supposed to say? Still it took all his willpower to listen to the sexual exchange. Joy never said yes to her ex, but she didn’t say no either.
After enduring more than enough of the illicit conversation, Tristan forwarded the link to his cellphone.
“If her ex is threating custody of the kids in exchange for sex, she must’ve recorded this to use against him. Smart girl,” Nick said. “I’ll call my lawyer to see what he can do with this info. Victor sounds deranged. I’m sure there’s enough here for Joy not to worry about losing her boys.”
“Victor’s pregnant fiancée won’t be too happy,” Lily added.
Nick and Lily left, taking Nicole along for the ride, leaving Tristan time to gather his wits and figure out his next move. He might not have the leverage to help Joy and her boys while Victor was lurking around, but there was one thing he could do…
Pushing through the back door, he marched across the side yard to finish the house so she could move in, where he could keep a close eye on her.