The Girl He Loves: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy

by Rose, Kristi

  Dax slides off the counter he’s been sitting on. “How does he know you have twelve grand in your account?” Apparently, his anger is stirring, too.

  I shrug. “We didn’t have a joint account, and I switched banks when we divorced. But it’s almost on-the-nose exactly how much I have saved. That’s the money I was going to use to offset my loss of income when I did my student teaching.”

  Jayne says, “It’s odd he knows how much you have.”

  Josie taps my phone. “Any chance you have spyware on here or your computer?”

  Dax says, “Could he guess your password?”

  All these questions are too much. Spyware? I hand Josie my phone, then stand to get my laptop. After retrieving it, I sit, plug in my password, and wait for the page to load. I scan my bank’s website and find a tracker that logs when I signed in. Sure enough, there are more sign-ins to my account than the ones I’ve done.

  I swivel the screen to Dax. “He’s been logging in. Or someone has.”

  Josie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be nice. It’s okay to accuse him. How do you think he got your password?”

  “He was carrying your laptop when he found me in the living room the other day.”

  I think it over, wondering. When we divorced, I made sure to put as large a separation between us possible. Tyler was the only link. And though I tried to keep our lives separate, I also went for an amicable relationship. Clearly that message was lost on Justin.

  “I keep a book in my dresser drawer where I log all important info. Like passwords,” I say.

  Dax says, “That should be in a safe.”

  I say, “Duh, and when I have a safe, I’ll put it in there.”

  He holds up his hands in apology.

  Jayne pats Dax on the shoulder. “Now we know he’s been coming in and breaking things, tapping into your accounts, and who knows what else. Bloody wanker. Do we know why?”

  I shake my head and type Justin’s name in a search engine. “Right after our divorce, Justin changed firms and didn’t pay child support for a quarter because he claimed he was unemployed.”

  Josie snaps her fingers, recognition on her face. “I remember that. We tried to prove he was out of work for only two weeks.”

  “Cost me a grand, remember?”

  She nods. “He gives, and he takes it back.”

  I point to the screen where I’ve pulled up his firm’s website. “He’s now an associate partner with that firm. That’s why he has the new car, clothes, and hairstyle. He’s damn well making enough money to pay child support.”

  Jayne asks, “Could a woman be involved?”

  Josie takes my computer and does some searching. She’s got mad skills. “Nothing remarkable is popping up.”

  Dax clears his throat. “Do you think maybe my presence set him off? I know that sounds vain, and I’m not trying to make this about me, but he accused Heather of harboring feelings for me while they were married.”

  I study Dax, then glance at each of my friends. “Dax did come up in the conversation a lot. Justin called him a cash cow.”

  Josie taps a finger on the table in thought. Then says, “I’ve seen weirder situations, but here’s my take.” She looks at me. “You asked for the divorce, remember? He wasn’t happy at all. At the deposition, he kept saying he didn’t understand why you were leaving him. By his account, he was a stand-up dad and husband. He gave you a house, a child, you stayed home, had spending money, and were allowed to see your friends.”

  Jayne says, “I remember you telling us about that. You didn’t like how he said ‘allowed.’ Said he sounded possessive.”

  I recalled the conversation. It worried me at the time. “Josie, you also said to watch out for him to possibly stalk me. But he never did.”

  She raises her brows. “Didn’t he? What’s he been doing all this time? Breaking things, thinking you’ll call him for help, logging into your bank account? But, thankfully, you’re incredibly stubborn and determined to do everything on your own. And you don’t call him.”

  Jayne mumbles, “Or anyone really.”

  Josie points to Jayne as if what Jayne’s said adds to her point. “You don’t call him, so he escalates. He monitors your money. Tries to keep you from achieving your dreams by forcing you to use money on lawyers instead of school.”

  She has a point. And it sends goosebumps up and down my arms. I attempt to rub them away, as if it will solve all the problems.

  Josie says, “You need an alarm.”

  Dax growls. “We’re having an alarm installed tomorrow. And whatever else it takes to make this place safe.”

  “I can’t afford that,” I tell him.

  “I can, and I won’t take no—” His phone rings, interrupting my rebuttal and the likely ensuing argument. He glances at the screen, then looks surprised.

  “I have to take this.” He quickly hops into the living room. The sliding door opening tells me he’s taking the call outside.

  “He moves fast for a guy with a brace,” Josie says.

  Jayne sits next to me. “Let him do this for you, Heather. Because if he doesn’t put one in, Stacy and Brinn will.”

  I nod. She’s right. Safety over pride.

  Jayne continues, keeping her voice low, “Is it possible Tyler is his?”

  I tell them about having my period and the six weeks between Dax and Justin.

  Josie bites her lip, her tell that she’s doing the math. “Unlikely, but possible.”

  I lean back in my chair and sigh. “Excuse me while I have a pity party.” I blink back tears.

  “Darling,” Jayne says. “You’re entitled to a massive temper tantrum if you want.” She takes my hand.

  “My life is a shit show. My ex wants to disown his kid, maybe his kid, and he’s been stalking me. My one-night stand, old college flame, has turned into weeks, and I’m getting used to him being around. But if this doesn’t make him run the other way, maybe whoever is calling will make a good enough offer to keep him around.” The words get caught in my throat, pushed back by my tears.

  Josie leaps from her chair and wraps me in a hug. “I will fry Justin, simply on principle, because he deserves it. Once we get the test results back, we’ll get you a new BMW to drive.”

  I know her words are an attempt to make me laugh, but I can’t. Because I don’t care that Justin wants out of our lives. I’m sad for Tyler. I’m angry for Tyler. He deserves better. And maybe he’ll get that with Dax. If Dax is his father. But where does that leave us? I married Justin out of the misguided belief it was what I was supposed to do. I won’t repeat that mistake.

  Dax being the stand-up guy he is, it’s a safe assumption he’ll offer the works.

  I think about how little I know about him. How we’ve been living a bit in the past. Only the present has caught up with us now.

  If I had one wish, it would be to see into the future.

  Chapter 22

  Late Monday night

  After my friends leave, I sit on my bed changing passwords to everything possible. For all I know, Justin was even using my Netflix.

  Dax lays stretched out next to me, trying to scratch beneath his cast with a pencil he found on my nightstand. We’ve been mindful to not make staying in my room a habit, careful of the message we’re sending to Tyler. When Tyler wakes up, Dax is always asleep on the couch.

  “Stupid plastic hangers,” he says. “Are wire ones really so bad?” He cuts his eyes to me and frowns. Two mangled plastic hangers are on the floor, having failed at being useful in the task.

  I chuckle. His phone sits on the nightstand, and I glance at it, wondering what secrets it holds.

  I finish changing my passwords and close the laptop.

  “Well, that’s sufficiently creepy, knowing my privacy has been invaded on all levels.”

  Dax snorts in agreement. “Maybe you can start saving some money now that he’s not coming around breaking everything. And the company will be here tomorrow to set up the alarm system. I’ll
take care of all that and show you how to use it when you get home from work.”

  “If they come after two, I think I can leave early to be here.” Even though doing so would cause me money loss in my paycheck, it would be worth it.

  “Nah, I’ll show you everything.”

  He continues to maneuver the pencil around in his cast.

  “We should talk,” I say, even though I don’t want to. I’m exhausted, and today’s cost has been heavy emotionally. But what little sleep I might get won’t happen if I don’t address the elephant in the room.

  I slide my laptop onto my nightstand and sit cross-legged facing Dax.

  He says, “Would it be better if we slept on everything?”

  Having a serious conversation is kinda hard when the bare-chested man in your bed works manically at scratching his leg with a pencil, moaning occasionally when it hits the spot. And as much as I’d love to sleep on all this or, heck, not ever talk about it, that’s not an option.

  “I can’t. There’s too much not being said, and I can’t pretend it’ll wait.”

  “Okay,” he says and readjusts so he’s sitting more upright on the bed. He’s still messing with the pencil.

  “When we hooked up, it was for one night.”

  He nods, and a grin plays at the corner of his mouth. “But I had this great idea about a second night and talked you into it.”

  Taking a more light-hearted route would be easier, but I fear wouldn’t be clearer. “My point is, this”—I gesture to him then myself—“was supposed to be causal. A few nights, and then we go our separate ways”

  He looks up as if thinking, “I don’t remember that part. I thought we said we’d take it one night at a time.”

  “Yeah, and now how many nights later you’re looking at the possibility of becoming an overnight dad and changing the whole trajectory of your life.”

  He shakes his head. “The paternity outcome won’t change the trajectory of my life.”

  “If you’re Tyler’s dad, I want you to know that I don’t expect anything.”

  He looks at me puzzled. “You should expect something. Care to define what it is you aren’t expecting?”

  Jeez, this is more awkward than I thought. I struggle to find the words. How do I tell the man that I don’t expect him to keep sleeping with me in the event that he’s gonna be paying me child support?

  Like a fish, my mouth flaps open, but no sounds come out. Finally, I say, “We can sleep on it.”

  He leaves the pencil sticking out of his cast, then takes my hand. “Heather, I thought we both were trying to be more open. Have better communication. Just say it. Whatever it is.”

  I press my lips together, and I say the words over and over in my head. Then I close my eyes and blurt out, “You don’t have to marry me if Tyler’s yours.”

  I open one eye and peek at Dax. He’s smiling at me.

  He says, “I know that. This isn’t the fifties. First, we get the results, and we go from there. Either way, lots of paths to take.” He shrugs one shoulder then resumes his pencil scratching.

  I’m oddly disappointed. Did I want him to say we’d run off and get married and live happily ever after? Because the practical side of me says that’s ridiculous. The logistics alone, where I want to work and where I live and Dax’s uncharted path, likely won’t align. Who knows where he’ll end up?

  But this isn’t about being practical. This is about so much more than that. The thought of not having to go at this life alone has ginormous appeal. Having Dax to share the day-to-day and shoulder some of the burdens would be like winning the lottery. Only better.

  Over the small number of days he’s been here, I’ve fantasized about having him around longer. About him fixing things that break and protecting me from all the bad things life will doubtless throw at me.

  How selfish does that sound?

  I’ve gone and done exactly what I said I didn’t want to do. Everything I fought against has happened. I’ve come to depend on Dax. I want to be rescued by Dax.

  Yeah, I’m exhausted and scared after finding out what Justin’s been doing. I don’t feel safe or protected. Maybe that’s why I no longer want to go at this alone. When I’m with Dax, he makes me feel both safe and protected.

  I glance at Dax, who is looking down his leg into his cast, one eye open as he maneuvers the pencil like NASA did with the Mars Rover, with fierce intention and purpose.

  Dear Lord. What am I doing? Eventually, Dax will not be staying here. He’ll get a boot for his leg, and the freedom that comes with that. And even if we find out he's Tyler’s father and he lives right next door, he won’t be here and I’ll feel his absence on a grand scale.

  Damn. Being a single mom takes a whole lot of energy and willpower.

  I glance up at the ceiling in an effort to fight back tears. Scared that I’ll not have the strength I’ve used in the past to get me through. Afraid that having Dax’s help has spoiled me, only to make everything else from here on harder.

  “What else did you want to talk about?” Dax asks, eyes on his cast.

  I have to get out of here. I need to think this out without him nearby. His stupid beefcake-man sexiness is too distracting. Makes logical thought impossible.

  I leap from the bed, feeling the familiar heat flush across my chest. I’ll be red from chest to cheeks in seconds. And how would I explain that to Dax?

  Do I admit my fears to him? That I’m afraid I might be using him to carry my heavy load? Do I confess I want Tyler to be his so he’ll stay forever? Or maybe I get angry and say having him in my life makes me a more dependent person and that scares me? Thinking these things is hard enough. Saying them will be impossible.

  I grab my robe and hold it to my chest. “Yeah, I’m good. I think I’ll take a shower.”

  He glances at me. “Really? Right now? It’s”—he glances at the clock—“midnight.”

  I nod vigorously. “Yep. I feel very out of sync about all this, and I think if I take a shower, it’ll make me feel better.”

  He stops his quest to scratch the nonstop itch and studies me. “Are you okay?”

  I keep nodding like a bobblehead, not looking at him, but at my escape route.

  “Heather?”

  “Yep, I’m good.” Eyes on the hallway, I rush to the door, only to catch my hip on the corner of my bed’s wood footboard, throwing me slightly to the side so that I bounce into the wall.

  I glance over my shoulder and grimace. I have his full attention. I say, “I’m good. Real good. So good. Sooo gooood.” I stumble toward the bedroom door.

  “Yeah, I can see you’re good.” The skepticism in his voice indicates he doesn’t believe me.

  I spin, robe clutched to my chest, and face him as I backpedal out the door. “So, so good. Fine.” And stupid, because I can’t think of anything else to say. I close the door behind me and nearly collapse against the wall. But I know Dax. He’ll follow me. I waste no time escaping into the bathroom where I lock the door behind me. Instead of a shower, I draw a bath and sink into the warm water.

  I have no idea where to go from here.

  Chapter 23

  Tuesday

  The next morning Dax and I act like everything is normal. Well, for him maybe it sorta is. He didn’t have any life-altering realizations late last night.

  As I hustle Tyler out the door for school, Dax is on my deck Face-Timing a man who I think is his agent. But I can’t hear anything of what they’re saying. Sometimes, a girl’s gotta eavesdrop, or at least try. Even if she does fail.

  After I drop Tyler at school, my imagination about what Dax and his agent are discussing goes into overdrive, so I pull into an empty parking lot and do some internet searching.

  Bleacher Report has a breaking story about Dax’s dad. He’s leaving the Tampa head coach position to be the General Manager of a New York team. The report talks about how they expect Coach Griffin will clean house and start over with new coaching staff as this NY team’s record f
or the last two years was six and ten. A losing record.

  The sports reporter then speculates who will fill the suddenly vacated positions, and Dax’s name is at the top of the list.

  Was that what his phone call last night was about? His dad calling him to offer him a job? And now he’s talking to his agent who will work out the specifics of the contract?

  The position would make Dax’s career. Should he want a career in coaching, that is. Only, I don’t actually know what Dax wants. I thought maybe he didn’t know either since he told me how he’s felt aimless up until now.

  Would I move to New York if he asked? Never mind that I’m not sure he would ask.

  I shake my head. No. Tyler’s doctors are amazing, and we’re only at the beginning of the very long process of getting him stabilized. And we’ve been successful so far. I would never want to disrupt that. How long will the process last? No one knows. Everything depends on the information we gather through all the testing. No, leaving the general area is not an option for me.

  And just like that, all my fears resurface again. Knowing I predicted this possibility is no comfort. It’s inevitable that Dax will be moving on simply because there are no jobs for him in Daytona Beach. Not unless he wants to be a high school coach or something. That might work in the short term, but eventually he’d want more. He won’t be staying in the area, and I’d better get used to that right now.

  Even if he is Tyler’s dad, the man has to make money. The man has to have a fulfilling career. I would never begrudge him that.

  It’s like college all over again. I take several deep breaths and get control of my racing thoughts. I will not handle this like college. I’ll see how this plays out.

  I nod as if doing so sets my determination in stone, when all I really want to do is run and protect my heart and my child.

  After a brief pep talk, I head to work, driving through the post office at the last minute because I almost forgot to drop off the paternity kit.