My Best Friend's Ex (Daring Divorcees)

by Shannyn Schroeder

  “Hey. So all of your globe-trotting is to find men with accents, huh?”

  She smiled. “Accents are pretty sexy.”

  “You have some shrimp on the barbie?” he asked in the most awful Australian accent.

  Callie and Hannah doubled over in laughter. “That was horrendous,” Callie said.

  Trevor came closer and shrugged. Lifting the lid on the grill, he took the spatula and flipped a burger. “I tried.”

  Hannah stood and took the spatula from him. “I’m learning.” She awkwardly flipped a burger, stepping back when the flames flared up. Looking up at Trevor, she said, “Don’t worry. You have other good qualities.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Her smile was bright.

  Callie’s throat tightened. Damn it. Playful teasing should not make her teary-eyed. But it felt so good to see Trevor smile. Like for right now, the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders. She knew it wouldn’t last, so she drank it in.

  When Lisa had died, she’d thought her whole world would fall apart. This felt normal to her, even without Lisa here. Trevor stood close and watched as Hannah handled the burgers. Then she added a few hot dogs.

  “I’m gonna be like the cook. I’ll amaze people with my skills when I get to college. No cold pizza for me.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” Callie said. “I doubt there are any dorms that will let you have a grill. Open flames and drunk college kids don’t mix well.”

  Hannah turned to face Callie, giving her a stern look. “I’m not going to be a drunk college student.”

  Callie huffed. “We’ll see.” When Hannah’s eyes widened, Callie got the hint. She didn’t like Callie mentioning getting drunk in front of Trevor. How could she explain to Hannah that they couldn’t pretend? “Even if you’re not, plenty of others will be.”

  She stood. “I’m going to make a salad to go with dinner. You guys need anything else here?”

  “We have it,” Trevor said, oblivious to his daughter’s silent communication. Over his shoulder, his eyes met hers. “Thanks, Callie.”

  “No problem,” she said with a smile.

  They ate dinner together as a family around the dining room table. They laughed and joked, and the kids talked about school. Finals were two weeks away. Trevor sat silently while Callie asked questions about their classes and what kind of tests they’d have to take. Evan, of course, just grumbled about how stupid tests were.

  It all felt normal. They’d had dinner together like this so often over the years that there was no awkwardness. But shouldn’t things have been different with Trevor there? They’d barely spoken over the last couple of weeks. He worked a lot, and he’d said he didn’t need her help.

  She’d been surprised when he answered her text tonight. She’d half expected him to pretend he hadn’t gotten it.

  After they’d cleaned up dinner, Trevor told the kids to go unpack the stuff they’d brought from his house.

  Callie saw her chance to talk to him when he grabbed a box and took it to the guest room. She took another and followed.

  “So this is where you’re moving in?”

  He jolted at her voice. “I think it’s best. This isn’t Lisa’s space. I can make it mine. Plus it gives me some privacy.”

  She set the box she carried on the bed. “I’ll finish clearing out Lisa’s room this week. I got caught up in some work.” And clearing out her best friend’s stuff was harder than she’d thought it would be.

  “Thanks.” He ripped open the box and starting hanging things in the closet.

  She looked in the box she had. More clothes. “Are you bringing your dresser or are you using this one?”

  “I’m bringing my furniture this weekend.” He looked at what she was doing. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to help.” She wanted to make sure they really were okay. “Maybe since this is for the dresser, just slide it into the closet for now.”

  “Yeah.” He took the box from her, his fingers brushing hers. Then he shifted away fast.

  “What about the other boxes?”

  “I have some books.” He pointed to the bookcase in the corner. “That fit in my truck, so I brought it over with this trip. You can put those away.”

  “Sure. Any specific organization?”

  His face filled with confusion.

  She explained. “Alphabetical by author? By genre?”

  “However they fit.”

  “You’re such a dude.”

  “Nice of you to notice.”

  He smiled at her, and whatever doubts she had fell away. She went to the living room and returned with a box of books. Not that he had it labeled. She basically lifted and shook. He joined her by the bookcase and they emptied the boxes and talked about work. He was telling her about the restaurant job he was finishing up.

  Evan stuck his head in the room and said, “Hey, Dad. I’m gonna go hang with friends.”

  “Not too late.”

  “I know.” He smirked. “Not bad for an old man. You got hot chicks helping you pack and unpack.”

  Trevor cringed. “Evan.”

  Callie touched his arm. “I don’t mind being referred to as a hot chick.” She winked at Evan.

  “See ya,” he called as he left.

  “So who’s the other hot chick?” she asked.

  “Nina helped me figure out what needed to move and what I’ll donate. And like I said, she’s a friend.”

  “Like I’m a friend.”

  He stared into her eyes, holding the gaze a beat longer than normal. “Not quite,” he said quietly.

  Her heart thudded, and the rest of the world fell away. A book slipped from her hand. The thump of it hitting the floor broke the moment.

  When they finished the books, there wasn’t much left to do. The rest would wait until the weekend.

  “I guess I’ll head home,” she said.

  “Actually,” he started, “are you going to be around for a bit?”

  She nodded.

  “I think I’m going to hit a meeting. Nina reminded me that I need to make time for that, so since it’s still early, I’d like to go. Will you be home in case Hannah needs something?”

  “Sure.” She liked that he turned to her to help with the kids.

  “I’ll only be an hour or so.”

  “Take your time.” She brushed her hands on her shorts. “I’ll let Hannah know she can come over if she wants.”

  “Thanks.”

  She walked to the door and then turned. “I like this new version of Trevor. I liked you twenty years ago. You were a hell of a lot of fun. But this grown-up version? I like him more.”

  He stood still. No response.

  She added, “Except maybe you could smile more. I promise it won’t kill you.”

  His somber expression cracked and he laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He was still laughing as she ran upstairs to talk to Hannah. It was a good sound.

  …

  As the school year came to a close and finals neared, Trevor realized the house and the kids were a little crazy. Books and notes filled the dining room table and Hannah was little more than a ball of stress. Every time he suggested she take a break, that she didn’t need to kill herself over a test, she reminded him that she needed good grades to get into college.

  He stared at the huge calendar on the wall. He had a basement remodel that he was starting this week. Hannah had a band concert Thursday night, and she was supposed to start driver’s ed on Monday. Evan had nothing on the calendar other than finals. He told Trevor he was fine, and Trevor didn’t want to nag, but he saw no way around it. Evan needed a high school diploma.

  His son breezed into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

  “What are you studying for tonight?” Trevor asked.

  Evan laughed. “I’m not.”

  Trevor crossed his arms and took a deep breath. He’d been doing a lot of counting the last few wee
ks. “This is not negotiable. I need to see you studying. No studying, no car, no friends.”

  “Come on. Finals aren’t until next week!”

  “Then you have plenty of time to study.”

  “I’ll study the night before.”

  Trevor shook his head. “I get that you don’t think school is important. Your grades reflect that. I understand that you don’t want college. But blowing off finals and getting sucky grades limits your options. That’s all I want you to understand. Keep your options open.”

  “And if I don’t, you’re gonna make me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Fine.” Evan turned and stomped away.

  “Down here. Bring your books here so I can watch you study. No phone,” Trevor called after him.

  “Hannah’s taking over the whole table.”

  “She’ll make room.” Trevor turned to where Hannah was working with earbuds in. He had no doubt she’d heard the entire exchange, but he touched her shoulder to get her attention.

  Tugging an earbud out, she said, “What?”

  “Your brother is coming down here to study. How about we do a guitar lesson?”

  “Now?”

  Trevor was glad he’d thought of it. It would give Hannah a break and allow Evan to study in peace. “Sure.”

  “Yeah,” she answered as she slammed her book shut.

  “Clear a spot for Evan and go grab my guitar from the front closet. We’ll play in my room.” That way he could keep an eye on Evan and teach Hannah.

  In the kitchen, he made notes about what he needed to load on the truck for the basement job tomorrow. They were doing demo for the next couple of days. It would be messy, exhausting work.

  A few minutes later, Evan came back and plopped down at the dining room table. He set a book in front of him, but made no move to open it.

  “What are you working on?”

  “American history. It blows. What do I need to know any of this for?”

  Trevor almost shrugged but realized it would be too close to agreeing with Evan, and he’d learned his lesson there. “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like. It’s part of life. I’m going to be in my room with Hannah. Holler if you need any help.”

  Evan flipped the cover open on the book. Trevor remembered those days. They were fucking miserable. He’d hated school, too. He never needed a damn thing he learned in history class. But before he opened his mouth to commiserate with his son, he left the room to hang out with Hannah.

  She was sitting on his bed, holding the guitar on her lap. She randomly strummed the strings. When she looked up, pure joy reflected in her eyes. His girl loved music. He wished he’d thought of this before.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep. Where do I start?”

  “Let’s keep it simple. Move forward so your feet are flat on the floor.” He moved to position the guitar on her lap. “We’ll do some basic fingering techniques, but it takes some getting used to. Your fingers will hurt.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tell me what to do.” She stared at him with a broad smile.

  He moved her fingers into position for a D chord and told her to strum. Then he fixed the pressure and the strings and had her try again.

  Nothing fazed her. She took correction and didn’t complain about repeating things. While she strummed, he peered out to make sure Evan was still at the table at least pretending to study.

  …

  Callie let herself in through the back door and saw Evan sitting at the dining room table surrounded by a mountain of books. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to come over, but lately sitting at home alone felt stifling. Yet when she walked into the house, she felt content.

  Evan looked up with a scowl when she came in.

  “Problem?”

  “School sucks.”

  “Sometimes, yeah.”

  A guitar strummed unevenly in the other room. When she looked in that direction, Evan said, “Hannah and Dad.”

  Callie took a seat next to Evan. “Anything I can help with?”

  “I doubt it. I have to memorize all of these dates and people from World War II. When am I ever going to use this information?”

  “You might not, but learning it makes you an informed citizen. Next year, you’ll be old enough to vote. You help decide what happens in our country. To not know where we came from could easily lead to us making the same mistakes again. That’s true of anything in life.”

  He snorted. “You sound like Mom.”

  “She was a smart woman.” She pulled the text closer. “Look. I’m not going to convince you that this is interesting or even necessary, but I can offer you some tips to remember it.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a horrible memory. Your mom used to make me flash cards for everything when we were in high school.”

  “That worked?”

  Callie laughed. “No, but when I took the information and related it to something I liked, it was easier to remember.”

  “Huh?”

  Callie bit her lip and thought. She wasn’t a teacher or a mom. She didn’t really know how to do this. “Okay. This is war. How many video games do you play that are some version of war?”

  “A lot, I guess.”

  “Imagine World War II as a video game. Put the people and dates and vocabulary into places that make sense to you. Make up a story or draw a map. You can do this.” She closed the book. “Work from your notes.”

  Evan didn’t look completely convinced, but he opened his notebook and folder and pulled out study guides and notes.

  She looked at some of the information. “Here. Let me give you an example. The Battle of the Bulge was really important. I like art. So I’d represent that battle with a picture.” She took a piece of paper and sketched a fat man. She labeled the countries around him and added some funny details.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, but if I’m sitting down to take a test, all I have to do is remember this picture. Easier than flash cards.”

  “I guess you’ve got a point.” He flipped through his notes. “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “You don’t need to draw. Your video games have stories. Make up a hero. Or use a real one. Give him a mission. The mission stats are the facts and details you need to remember.”

  “Huh. That kind of makes sense.”

  Callie smiled. She stopped short of giving herself a pat on the back, but she felt good. While Evan hunched over a paper and began making his own study guide, Callie went to go see Hannah and Trevor.

  Just as she neared his bedroom, the playing began again, but this time it was smooth and good. She recognized the opening strains of “Sweet Child o’ Mine.” She waited outside the door and listened. It had been years since she’d heard Trevor play. The song transported her back twenty years to many of the dive bars Trevor’s band had played at. Her weekends had been filled with hanging out with Lisa and Trevor and the band. Even after Evan was born, Callie sometimes went to the bar to hang out, but things had started to fall apart by then.

  Trevor had spent more time drinking than he had with his family. Lisa had been overwhelmed with having a baby. As things got worse between Trevor and Lisa, Callie had felt torn. She’d loved them both. So she’d thrown herself into her career.

  As the song played on, she found herself being drawn closer until she was in the doorway, watching Trevor play. She was struck by an image of him onstage in a smoky bar, staring down at the crowd, a huge grin on his face. He loved playing. Hannah stared at him with adoring eyes, a clone of her mother.

  Damn. She wanted this. This sense of family.

  Holy crap. Where did that come from?

  When he strummed the last chord, Callie automatically clapped. Trevor’s head snapped up.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “I forgot how good you are.”

  He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with her praise.

  “I didn’t,” Hannah said. “I remember him playin
g when we were little.”

  “You were too young, so you don’t remember the rock days,” Callie said. “They played a lot of Guns N’ Roses. Oh, and the hair bands.”

  “Hair bands?” Hannah asked.

  “Dudes from the ’80s. Big hair. Hard rock. Love ballads. Poison. Mötley Crüe. And of course, Guns N’ Roses.”

  “How could we go wrong with Guns N’ Roses? Best of both worlds. We played rock and still wooed women.” He winked at Hannah. “It’s how I got your mom.”

  “Why’d you stop playing?”

  Trevor swallowed and then stood. “Got busy with work. Didn’t have time.”

  Hannah took his answer in stride, but Callie knew better. Lisa had demanded he stop playing with the band or she’d leave him. He’d quit for her, but leaving the band hadn’t curtailed his drinking, which had continued to get worse.

  “Who’s up for ice cream sundaes?” Callie asked.

  “If you’re making them and cleaning up, sure,” Trevor answered with a smile.

  Hannah raced from the room to gather ingredients.

  Callie turned to follow, but Trevor touched her hand to stop her.

  “Thanks for that.”

  “What?”

  “Not calling me out to Hannah.”

  Callie’s heart hurt for him. “She knows you’re an alcoholic. She also knows you’re recovering. Give her credit. She loves you.”

  “Yeah, but no parent wants to admit to all of his failings to his kids.” He shook his head. “I know they’ll figure it out by the time they’re grown, but if I can hold on to this a little longer, I will.”

  Part of her understood, but she still felt like he was selling himself short. He was building a new life with his kids. That alone was something to be proud of. Hell, it was more than she’d done with her life.

  Trevor gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. Then she went to have ice cream.

  Chapter Seven

  Callie stood in the middle of Lisa’s bedroom, and a pang of guilt stabbed her. She’d cleared out everything for Trevor. He’d told her to take her time sorting through Lisa’s things. He’d moved the bed out and brought up the one from the guest room so he could have his own bed downstairs. Other than that, he said the room wouldn’t be used for anything.