by Rose, Kristi
The media found out about his accident, and his cell phone has been chiming with emails and ringing off the hook. A few articles question what he was doing at a kid’s flag football game, but an unverified source says he was there watching his nephew.
Dax says his agent spread that rumor. I appreciate the anonymity.
Last thing we need or want is media outside my house.
I drive home from work with the universal question on my mind. What am I going to make for dinner?
The downside to Dax staying with us is his appetite is too big for my small budget. Pasta was always an easy way to stretch dollars, but we’ve had it twice already this week.
When I pull up, Dax is coming from around the house.
I park in the garage, such a wonderful gift, and get out to meet him. He’s resting on his crutches behind my van.
I sniff. “Are you grilling?”
“Steaks and shrimp. I had groceries delivered. Sorry, it took me a few days to realize I was eating everything you had.”
I wave a hand dismissively like it isn’t a big deal, but inside I’m relieved. And embarrassed. Payday is today, so I couldn’t shop any earlier.
“It smells so good.”
He smiles. “You up for making a salad?”
I toss my purse over my shoulder. “I’d love to.” I turn to go, but he grabs me by my elbow.
“Real quick. I want to tell you something out here. I don’t want Tyler to hear.”
My heart plummets. No matter how hard I try to be realistic, that this week of playing house can’t go on forever. Sometimes I’ve let myself indulge in the fantasy of it.
“This sounds bad,” I say, hoping he’ll reassure me.
“You tell me. I have an opinion, but I don’t want to make snap judgements.”
Now I’m concerned. I lean against the workbench and try not to think of us getting hot and bothered all over it. I cross my arms preparing for blows. “Hit me with it.”
“Your ex came by today.”
Cocking my head, I say, “Justin?”
Dax’s lips quirk. “Do you have another?”
“Lord, no. What did he want?”
“To bring you a check.” He reaches into his back pocket, then pulls out a folded square of paper and holds it out to me.
I take it and open it. Sure enough, it’s a child support check.
Dax says, “Lemme guess. It’s not close to what he owes you?”
“Nope, this is one-third of what he owes me for one month, and he’s three months behind.”
“You need to get your lawyer after him.”
I fold the check and leave it on the workbench counter. “In the three years we’ve been divorced, I’ve had to do that four times.” I hold up four fingers. “You know how much it cost me to have my lawyer make him pay?”
Dax shakes his head.
“Almost a grand. Each time. It’s like he does it on purpose just to be a butthead to me.”
Dax shifts his weight and rests against my minivan, kicking his broken leg out in front. “Humor me for a minute. What if he is doing it on purpose?”
I laugh because the idea is absurd. Justin couldn’t care less about us. “Why? He barely noticed us when we were married. What’s his motivation?”
Dax shrugs. “That I don’t know, but listen. I’m on the couch watching Ridiculousness and telling myself not to take a pain pill even though I want to. Whenever I do, I consume an entire bag of chips and we’re out of chips and I don’t have training camp coming up so I don’t want to put on weight.”
I wave my hand to show he needs to speed this up. Though it's cute that he’s thinking about his weight.
“Anyway, I hear a noise in the garage, so I put the TV on mute. Then I hear that door open.” He points to the interior garage door that leads to my kitchen.
“How is that possible? I lock the exterior door, and the garage door is fixed.”
“He had a key. I saw him pocket it when he came in. He hadn’t noticed me yet.”
I feel sweaty and slightly sick to my stomach. Why would Justin have a key to the house and come in when he knows good and well we aren’t home? “What did he do then?”
“Went through your mail. Broke the light to the microwave.”
“How’d he do that?”
Dax’s lips are pressed thin. He’s furious.
In hopes of lightening the mood, I say, “Is he still alive?”
“He’s lucky he is,” he says. Effort thwarted. “He took the bulb out and shook it until he broke the filament. I just sat there and watched him. I wanted to see what else he was up to.”
“And?”
“That’s when he came into the living room and saw me. He was holding your laptop. Tried to tell me he comes by to check on things for you every month. Wants to make sure you’re all safe.”
“But he just broke—” I gesture toward the house.
“Yep, and he knew I knew he’d done it, too. That’s when he whipped out his checkbook and said he was also leaving a check. Wanted me to tell you he’s sorry it’s late, but the first chance he gets, he’ll make good.”
“Bullshit,” I say.
“Here’s the thing. When I cleaned out your gutters the other day, the clogs didn’t look normal. They looked like someone had packed leaves and rocks and bark in there.”
“Rocks?”
“Yeah. To cause the water to pool in that one corner of the house where, with enough exposure, you'll have a leak and bigger issues.”
I’m stunned. “None of this makes sense. Why would he do this?”
“I don’t know. But I called Doug to ask about the things he’s fixed over the years. Justin could be the reason for at least half of those issues.”
I shake my head, unable to take in the enormity of what he’s suggesting.
Dax gestures for me to follow him. “I have to check on the steaks. But here’s another thing. He wasn’t happy to see me. Not because I busted him, but I don’t think he wants to see you with any man, especially me. He brought up college. Talked about how I let you go, and he won, and that I needed to know when it came time for you to choose, you picked him.”
We make our way to the backyard. The hickory smell of the grill is stronger, but even though I was hungry when I arrived, I’m now sick to my stomach. “That doesn’t even make sense. I didn’t even know him until after we broke up. You were long gone to California when I met Justin.”
“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.” Dax lifts foil off a tray sitting on my outdoor table and puts shrimp on the grill.
My mind races. “I need to have the locks changed. All of them.”
“Done,” he says. “New keys are on the kitchen table. I also ordered you a camera system, one that will ping your phone.” He closes the lid and wraps an arm around me. “But you have me. I’m the best security system there is.” He holds out an arm in front of me and flexes, making his bicep jump.
I laugh and swat him away. I don’t say that one day Dax might not be here. “I’m going in to make the salad.” I need to process all this.
He swats me on the butt when I pass. “Tell Tyler to come out here. I’ll teach him how to play with fire safely.”
Horrified, I stare at Dax. “I will not!”
He bursts out laughing. “I knew you’d say that.”
Chapter 20
Monday
On Monday, Justin delivers his bomb. I’ll give him credit; at least we were able to enjoy the weekend before he made his return visit.
Thankfully, Doug took Tyler back to the park for another flag football game. Dax was trying to convince me to recreate the late-night lovemaking couch scene from last week, only this time in the bedroom. I was half convinced when the doorbell rang.
“Man!” Dax says and hops to the couch. He’ll get a boot in two weeks, and he’s chomping at the bit for that.
As I open the door I’m chuckling, but my laughter falls flat. Justin stands there looking angry. He�
�s slapping a packet of paper against his palm.
“Took you long enough.” He pushes past me into the house, walking straight into the living room.
“Excuse me,” I say. “You don’t live here anymore. You can’t just barge in.”
Justin gestures to the space. “I paid for this.”
“And you gave it to me in the divorce. Now I pay for it.” I gesture to the door.
“I have something to say.” He scowls at Dax.
The thing I’ve learned about Justin is that he’s a lot of bluster. He puffs up as a smokescreen, a distraction. Many times, after getting home late, I asked him where he’d been and got the defensive act followed by how-dare-I accuse-him-when-he-supports-me-with-staying-at-home song and dance. I’d long become accustomed to this and could see through it.
“Then say it.” I glance at Dax; his lips are pressed into a thin line. He’s holding a crutch in one hand as if preparing to use it in a fight.
I also notice Justin has a new hairstyle. His blond hair has been cut to allow for side-swept bangs, making him look younger and like a surfer. A trendier look for a guy who tended to be slightly boring in appearance. Even his dark-washed jeans and T-shirt are more in style.
Justin holds out the packet to me. “This is a court order to have a paternity test done on Tyler. I don’t think he’s mine, and this will prove it.”
Fury makes me snatch the papers from him instead of snatching all the hair off his stupid head. “Whose kid would he be, Justin? Never mind how much he looks like you.”
Justin points a long finger at Dax. “His kid, and he can start paying for him. And don’t say he looks like me, he looks like you. When it comes back that Tyler isn’t mine, I expect full restitution for all the child support money I’ve given you over the last three years.” He crosses his arms and lifts his chin.
“I’m surprised you don’t want restitution from the day he was born.”
Justin blinks a long one, then says, “My lawyer says I can’t get it].”
I lunge at him, but Dax leaps from the couch and catches me before I can get my hands around Justin’s throat or any other part of his body.
Dax stands behind me, his arms holding me back.
I say, “I really hope Tyler isn’t your kid. By some miracle of conception, I’ll take Mickey Mouse for his father over you any day.”
“I’ll be happy for the truth to come out,” Justin says, as if he’s taking the high road. “For Tyler’s sake.”
“Why are you doing this? What happens when the DNA proves you are his father? You gonna start paying what you owe on time then? You know I don’t have the money to fight you in court anymore.” Though I’ve stopped trying to get to Justin to kill him, I’m by no means relaxed.
“I’m not worried about that because I’m confident I’m not the father.” He points a finger to Dax. “Besides, you got yourself a cash cow there. I gave you everything, and it was never enough because you never got over him. He was always the elephant in the room. Now he’s not.”
Confused, I say, “I never once compared you to Dax. You’re talking like a crazy person.”
Justin puffs out his chest as if trying to seem larger than he is. “Maybe you didn’t say anything, but I could see your face when we’d watch his games. You’d twirl your hair and smile, and I knew you were thinking of him.” He jabs his finger at us again.
Because I’m only human and coming from a place of anger not common sense, I say, “Yeah, I probably was thinking about him. He’s so much better than you in bed.” On one hand, I hold up my pinky and pretend to measure it with the thumb and index finger of my other hand. Then I pointedly look at Justin’s crotch. The message is clear.
Justin’s face goes red. “You have forty-eight hours to submit the sample.” He storms out.
I break free from Dax and follow him. Outside, I notice he’s driving a new car. A BMW XX series.
“This is nice,” I say as I skirt past him and run my hand along the shiny black hood, leaving an obvious smudge. In the back seat is not a car seat for his child but a golf bag loaded with clubs.
“Having regrets for quitting me?” Justin smirks.
As if. “Is this why you can’t pay child support? Having an ex-wife and a kid to support cramping your style?”
He pushes me away from the car, and I stumble backward.
“Hey, hands off her,” Dax yells and makes it across the yard in record time, especially for a man using crutches. He’s got Justin backed up against the car and is towering over him. “You can come here and make your request. But you can’t come here and put your hands on her or Tyler. Do I make myself clear? I know you’ve been letting yourself in and breaking things. I don’t know why. Maybe you thought she’d call you for help, or maybe you’re just an asshole. Either way, it all stops now.”
Justin’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows convulsively. “I’ll happily let you take them off my hands.”
Dax’s shoulders broaden. “I’d happily take them.”
It’s a stare down, and I break the silence.
“Leave, Justin.”
He has to slide away from Dax and can only open his door a fraction.
“Here,” he says and reaches into the car. He pulls out a small white box and tosses it to me. I catch it with one hand. The label on the top reads DNA Kit.
“When the label gets scanned at the post office, I’ll get confirmation it was submitted. Forty-eight hours.” His remarks are directed at me.
“What? You don’t want to make sure I don’t fudge it somehow. Maybe I have some of your DNA lying around. I could use that.” I know I can’t and I won’t, but this isn’t my finest moment. How did I ever marry this man?
“Duh,” Justin says. “I already asked that question, too. That would show up as a direct match to me.” He gets in his car and slams the door. The locks engaging makes me laugh.
Dax looks over his shoulder at me and rolls his eyes.
Justin pulls away at a quick clip, and I’m happy to see him gone.
I say, “He should be ashamed of himself.”
Dax turns and gestures for us to go inside. “Is it even a possibility? Could Tyler be mine?”
We go inside and I close the door, then follow him to the couch. “The last time we slept together was the night before the draft. That was the last week in April.”
Dax smiles, pleased I remember. Men!
“I met Justin in July at a party. I’m ashamed to say I slept with him the first night.”
One of Dax’s brows raises slightly.
“Don’t judge me. I was trying to get over you. I never claimed having sex with Justin to be my finest moment. Though I did get Tyler.”
Dax sits up and slaps his hand on his knee. “Wait. Back up. You were getting over me? You broke up with me!”
“We've had this conversation. I broke up with you because you were going to break up with me.”
“Based on what my dad said. Which was what exactly?” His face is dark with frustration.
I give a half shrug. “He said you had no plans for a long-distance relationship and it would be really hard on you at training camp. You couldn’t be distracted.”
Dax slaps his hand on his forehead. “And you never thought to ask me about any of that?”
“Was he wrong?” I toss the DNA kit on the coffee table then cross my arms. I’m ready to rumble, having not gotten all my frustration out on Justin. “You said the other morning that training camp was a ball buster.”
Dax grimaces. “Not entirely. Yeah, it would’ve been hard. But I didn’t want to break up. I thought maybe we’d just see how it played out. Then you ended it. Out of the blue. I felt blindsided.”
Like a balloon that’s lost all its air, my anger deflates. “Yeah, that might have been better than my knee-jerk reaction.” My snap decision, made without all the facts, sent me down a path I never imagined. The one good outcome? Tyler. I could never have regrets about him. I say, “But you know what
would have been the best solution? Talking it out.”
For a moment, we sit in silence. Maybe he’s thinking of the what-ifs, too.
In a quiet voice Dax asks again, “Could Tyler be mine?”
“I got pregnant on the Fourth of July. He was due mid-May, but they took him a month early; my amniotic fluid was low. I don’t see how he could be yours. Justin’s an accountant. You think he’d do the math. Tyler was born at thirty-six weeks. If we account for the six-week gap from our last get-together to July Fourth and say he was born full term, then that would have made him forty-two weeks.”
“Is that not possible then? Does that not happen?”
When looking at the timeline that way, well…there’s a possibility.
“But I had a period between when we were last together and when I was with Justin.” Even saying that out loud sounds weak.
“So, you think it might be possible.” Dax is leaning forward, nearly vibrating off the couch.
“Maybe.” What if Dax is Tyler’s dad? I cover my mouth in horror. “I never even considered you. I had a period. There was no reason to think…” I struggle to wrap my brain around the possibility.
If this is true, what comes next?
Chapter 21
Monday Night
Tyler’s exhausted by the time he and Doug come home. He falls asleep on the couch, and I carry him to bed without waking him. By the time I have him tucked in, Josie and Jayne have arrived and are in the kitchen with Dax.
Josie’s looking at the papers Justin gave me. She doesn’t even glance up when I enter the room. “Did you do the test?”
“Yes,” I say and sit in the chair next to her. Dax offers me a hard cider, and I accept. My nerves are shot.
We let Josie read in silence.
“Wow,” she says. “He wants you to pay him back within ninety days once the test determines he’s not Tyler’s dad.”
My anger stirs, I say, “How would I be able to do that?”
“He says if you can’t do that, he’ll take the twelve thousand you have in your account as the down payment and follow that with monthly payments for one year.”