Disarmed by Love

by Gail Chianese

  “Hey, Dante. How many years do you have in the navy now?” Jason asked.

  Too many and not enough. “Seventeen last month.”

  Jason sat back, his jaw dropped. “Man, when did we get to be so old?”

  George and Dante groaned, at the same time as Dad and Gramps snorted in disgust.

  “Isn’t that what I said, Jorge?”

  “Wait until their joints pop every time they stand. Then, then they’ll know what old is.”

  Jason ignored the ribbing, as did Dante and George. Neither Dad nor Gramps had slowed down over the years, even if they should. “How long are you planning to stay in?”

  “I can retire in another three years, if I want or stay another ten to thirteen, depending on if I make rank or not. Haven’t really decided.”

  Not that he hadn’t thought about it, often and hard, especially since his accident. Thankfully, the navy was giving him a second chance to stay in. He knew of others, those whose injuries had left them in worst shape than him, who had no choice and were medically retired early.

  “Any plans for what you’ll do when you get out?” Jason reached behind him, into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water. He offered to the group and Dante held up his hand, catching the bottle Jason tossed.

  “You could join the bomb squad for the PPD.” Dad reached into the cooler, selected a beer, and popped the top, his face devoid of emotion. SOP—standard operating procedure—Dante knew what that meant. The old man was on a fishing trip for information. And he wasn’t biting. At least not today.

  “I really hadn’t thought about it.” He had, and once upon a time, that had been his game plan. Do his twenty in the navy, retire, collect his pension and sign up with the local force or maybe one of the federal agencies.

  Now? He needed a new game plan, except he didn’t know what the game was.

  “If you’re looking for something different, you could come work for me and Dave. Ever since we rebuilt the community center, we’ve had more work than we can handle rehabbing houses and business.”

  “Or you could come work for me at the restaurant.” George winked. “You’ve got some skill in the kitchen. Not as much as me, but you’ll pass.”

  “Thanks, bro and you too, Jase. I’ll let you know.” Ready to ditch the conversation, he slapped his hands together and stood. “I’m going to hit the dessert table.”

  On his way there, he spotted Dylan and Georgie talking quietly away from the others. And because he knew quiet boys, were boys that were plotting to take over the world, he dropped down on the ground next to them.

  He eyed them back and forth. “What are you two up to?”

  “Nothing,” Georgie said. “I’m going to go jump on the trampoline. Want to come, Tío?”

  “Maybe later.” He turned back to Dylan. “Everything okay, Ace?”

  Dylan plucked a handful of grass and tossed it. “Are you dating my mom?”

  Okay, he should have seen that coming. “Would it bother you if I was?”

  “My dad doesn’t like you.” Serious eyes looked up at him. He needed to tread carefully, one wrong word, his world would go up in smoke.

  “Your dad doesn’t really know me. I’m sure once he gets to know me, we’ll be fine.”

  “My mom likes you. She smiles a lot when you’re around, especially when she thinks you’re not looking.”

  “Yeah?” Dante smiled.

  “Yeah.” Dylan smiled back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t answer mine either. Would you mind if I dated your mom?” Everything inside of him went still as he waited for the blessing of a ten-year-old.

  “I guess it’d be okay. But don’t make her cry, because then I wouldn’t like you anymore and we’d have to stop our swim lessons.”

  Dante swiped his hand over his heart. “Promise.”

  Chapter 11

  Fiona had just stepped out of a hot shower, washing the dirt, grime, and sweat off after a long day when the doorbell rang. The clock said Dante was early, almost an hour so. No complaints from her as it meant they’d have more time together.

  At the party last week, she’d overheard Dante and Dylan talking. The conversation had proven enlightening and heartwarming when her baby gave his blessing that she could date Dante. She smiled as he extracted a promise from Dante not to make her cry and she realized two things. One, her baby wasn’t a baby anymore. And two, this thing between her and Dante, it was more than lust and few sparks.

  Which meant she needed to proceed with caution, but that she most definitely needed to proceed and see where the relationship went and how deep the emotions had rooted.

  She reached for her robe as Dylan ran by the door and yelled he’d get it. It wasn’t only her Dante made smile and that was nice. Ditching the robe, she finished toweling off and tugged on her swimsuit, before slipping a t-shirt and pair of shorts on. She gave herself a moment to brush her wet hair back and capture it in a tail. No point drying it as it was just going to end up in the same condition. With one last inspection in the mirror she walked out to greet the man of her dreams.

  And came to a dead stop at the sight before her.

  “Sal?”

  “Mom.” Dylan ran up to her. “Dad invited me to go camping this weekend. Can I go, please?”

  She stroked her son’s hair and sighed at the hope shining back up at her from his face. So not fair. If she said no, she came off as the mean parent, the selfish ex-wife who cheated his father of time with their child. Saying yes put Sal in control—again—something she said would never happen, it let him manipulate and robbed her of time with her son.

  “We had plans for the weekend, remember?” She looked over Dylan’s head to her ex. “Maybe you guys could go camping next weekend?”

  “Can’t. This is the only weekend I have use of the camper and the park is booked up for the next two months.” Sal’s stare drilled into her, daring her to defy him, to disappoint Dylan.

  “Please, Mom?” Dylan hugged her. “You hate camping and I’ve been wanting to go forever and Dad’s got a camper. That’s so cool. This way you won’t have to worry about bears eating me for a midnight snack.”

  She bit down, and then smiled. “I thought you told me I don’t have to worry about bears around here?”

  “You don’t. We’ll be in a camper and I know all the do’s and don’ts. Like don’t leave food out. You hang it up in a tree. And if you see a bear, don’t climb a tree. That’s dumb. You make a lot of noise and wave your arms.”

  As Dylan spouted all of his bear facts, she caught an amused and—could it be? —a proud look on Sal’s face. Resigned, she kissed the top of her son’s head and told him to go pack.

  “I wish you had called first. We really did have plans for the weekend, Sal.”

  He shrugged and stuck his hands in his front pockets. “It was a last minute thing. Look, Fiona, while the kid is in the other room, I need to talk to you.”

  Great, here came the other shoe. What was it this time? He couldn’t make the child support payment? He was leaving Mia because he’d found a newer, younger, more malleable model? Or maybe he was transferring.

  “My lawyer is drawing up the paperwork to have the parenting plan revised. I want Dylan every weekend, all school breaks and holidays. You get him all week long, plus every other weekend. It’s not fair. I went years without seeing him.”

  At first she couldn’t respond. His words left her dumbfounded. All of Dylan’s breaks? When was she supposed to have time with him? A pressure built on her chest, air lodged in the back of her throat, the world went hazy and then it went red.

  “And whose fault was that? Yours.” She poked him in the chest to emphasize her point as she tried to keep her voice down. “You didn’t want any type of custody, not even every other weekend. My lawyer added that and even when I asked if
you wanted to come see him, spend time with him, you turned me down. So go cry in someone else’s river.”

  “That’s not fair, Fee. I didn’t have a place for a baby and it’s not like the kid would even have remembered.”

  “Newsflash. He’s ten. He hasn’t been a baby in a long time and he remembers. He remembers you not being there when he learned to ride a bike, when he fell out of a tree and hurt his arm, missed Christmases and birthdays. And the few times you said you’d visit? He remembers when you cancelled, too.”

  “I’m here now and he needs a man to teach him… man things. He spends too much time reading. He needs to play sports, build some muscles. He’s scrawny.”

  “He’s ten!”

  What had she ever seen in him? She was living breathing proof of why they coined the phrase, “young and dumb.”

  “Exactly. He’s going to start having questions about things he can’t talk to you about.”

  “He can talk to me about anything.”

  “Girls? Wet dreams? Sex?” he shot back.

  “He’s ten, Sal.”

  “I had my first wet dream at eight. You’re stunting his growth.”

  She took it all back. It hadn’t been a case of “young and dumb.” For her not to have seen her ex-husband for who he truly was, she had to have been insane, or brainwashed or on drugs. And since she’d never taken anything stronger than an aspirin, she could rule out one of those.

  “That’s ridiculous. Dylan knows he can talk to me about anything. Plus, he’s got his grandpa, and his uncles, Justin and Jax to talk to, if he wants. It’s not like he’s locked away inside some estrogen tent.”

  Sal snorted and sneered. “He may as well be with those two. Complete wusses.”

  “Nice word. Did you teach that to our son?” She eyed him. He was fidgety. Not his norm. Something else was up. “Wait. What do you plan to do when you transfer? Fly Dylan to God-knows-where every weekend?”

  What would happen when Sal transferred? Would he drop out of Dylan’s life again like he had before? Their son would be crushed. Or would he try to take Dylan with him? Oh God. She’d be crushed and lost without her son.

  “We’ll discuss that when the time comes.”

  As usual, Sal never thought ahead or how his actions affected anyone else.

  “Are you two fighting again?” She turned to see Dylan, his eyes downcast, shoulders slumping with his backpack on the floor at his feet. “Can we go now?”

  She gave him a hard hug, kissed his head and said good-bye.

  Tears pushed at the back of her eyes and burned her throat. It was just for the weekend. So why did it feel like it was the beginning of something so much more?

  Sal moved to the door and stopped. “Think about what I said, Fiona. It’ll be cheaper and better for all of us if you give me what I want.”

  He walked out the door and she picked up the first thing she found and threw it. The cup crashed and broke into a hundred pieces just like her heart.

  And how was she supposed to fight back when she couldn’t afford an attorney? She barely made ends meet now. Just one more mess to clean up. She turned and reached into the hall closet for the broom and dustpan, wiping the tears away as they slipped down her cheeks.

  “Shit. That was my favorite mug.” It was silly to get worked up over something that hadn’t happened, probably wouldn’t happen. No judge would grant Sal’s request. Totally absurd demanding every free moment of their son’s time. Greedy. Selfish. So typical of him.

  If he had asked for a fair schedule, she would have said yes. Regardless of how she felt about the man, he was her son’s father and Dylan deserved to have him in his life, to know him, to create memories, and even, to decide how he felt about Sal. And therein laid her biggest fear, that not only would he like his father, but Dylan would like him more than her.

  And with the admittance, a fresh bout of tears erupted.

  A knock on the door had her cursing again. She sucked in her breath and held it, as she tried to shut off the waterworks. She opened the door to come face-to-face with Dante.

  “Hey, sunshine.” He cupped her cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb across her face wiping the tears away. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m so sorry. I should have called.” Great, nothing says I care like forgetting all about you. “Dylan’s not here. His dad showed up out of the blue and now they’re going camping. He was so excited about the idea, I—”

  “It’s okay. Life is nothing if not unpredictable.”

  “Thanks, but had you known, you wouldn’t have wasted a trip over and I’m sure you have other things to do.”

  His gaze dipped low, the smile spread, and everything inside of her flashed hot. “I’m in the company of a beautiful and interesting woman: definitely not a wasted trip. And just because Dylan isn’t here doesn’t mean we can’t work on your stroke.” Hooded eyes lifted to meet hers and the smoldering blaze coursing through her body shot straight to her core.

  “I’m not really in the mood to swim.”

  “You’re not going to sit here by yourself and be sad.”

  “I’m not?”

  “Nope.”

  “What am I going to do?” Based on his leisurely perusal of her body, she had a pretty good idea of what was on his mind, but it was always good to ask.

  Dante held up an eco bag from the commissary.

  “What’s in the bag?”

  He held the bag above her head so she couldn’t peek. Given that he had at least eight inches on her in height, she simply shook her head and followed him. Dante pulled out avocados, onion, cilantro—standard guacamole ingredients—then he took out a bag of flour.

  “Are we having churros?”

  He ignored the bag and turned to her, arms crossed in front of him. “Excuse me. I’ll have you know I don’t share my churro on the first date.”

  “Not our first date.”

  “Still not sharing my special treats with you yet. You’ll think I’m easy, so you’ll have to settle for brownies.”

  She laughed. It was weak and half-hearted given all she really wanted to do a few minutes ago was curl up on the couch and lose herself in a good book for a couple of hours. Dante set the rest of the food and ingredients on the counter, grabbed her cutting board and a knife.

  “Want to talk about what happened? What made you cry?” He sliced the avocado in half, whacked the knife into the pit and twisted to remove it.

  “Another fun-filled discussion with my ex.” She gave him the highlights of the conversation, saved the dramatics, and her personal opinion of Sal to herself. Her divorce wasn’t Dante’s mess to deal with, nor did he need to be dragged into the middle of her crisis even if he had asked.

  “Do you really think a judge will give him what he’s asked for? When does he transfer again?”

  “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions. I would hope not on the first, and as for Sal’s rotation dates, he keeps that information to himself.”

  Dante mashed the avocado, added salt, a dash of lime juice and set the bowl aside as he chopped the cilantro, chilies, and onion. “I’m not a lawyer, although we could tap Brody—you met him at the party the other day. Came late, always, as we were leaving. Anyway, let’s say the judge does grant him more time with Dylan. Would that be so bad?”

  “No.” She let out a breath. “Yes.” Oh man, her emotions were all over the place. She needed to get a handle on them, because if she went up in front a judge this way, he’d think she was unstable.

  “No in that Dylan spending time with his dad isn’t a bad thing. Children shouldn’t be denied the right to know their parents, unless it’s a safety issue. I may not be a fan of my ex-husband’s, but he’s not a danger to our son. And Dylan loves his dad, and his stepmom, who’s wonderful to him.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Now tell
me why it would be a bad thing.” He kept chopping and mixing, as they talked, letting her get it all out without making her feel like she was under a microscope or being judged.

  “What if Dylan decides he likes living with them more? Sal makes more money than I do, and he doesn’t think twice about spoiling Dylan with games, and trips to the batting cages, or miniature golf, or the amusement park. What if Dylan chooses him over me, and Sal transfers to Washington, or California, or overseas? I’ll lose my son. I can’t afford to fly to those places, and I know my ex well enough to know he’ll come up with excuses as to why he can’t fly Dylan home. I have eight years, eight short years left until he goes away to college, and I can’t lose him now.”

  More tears leaked down her face and she looked away. Dante set down his tools and wrapped her in his arm, holding her close to his chest. He smelled like the sea and sunshine.

  “Those are some big ‘what-ifs’ and very valid ones to cause you concern. You need to make a plan, fight back, and I’ll help any way I can. We’ll call Brody; he’s the best. Until then, think about this. Someone wise told me to focus on the moment. This moment here and now. That tomorrow hasn’t arrived and can’t be controlled, but you can control right now.”

  She smiled and found herself laughing a little. “Nice, throwing my words back at me. So the student has become the teacher. Sounds like my work is done.”

  He kissed away the tears, and held her gaze. “Not even close. Look, Fee, I don’t have kids, but I was one… once. Keep being you. You’re a great mom. Dylan loves you and he’s a smart boy. Dads are important, but no one can replace your mom, especially when that mom is you.”

  Fee choked up. The man slayed her with his words, took away the pain—some of it—and restored her confidence. She didn’t know what was happening between them, but there was something. And there was something about Dante that made her excited about life in way she never had felt before, with him she was free to be herself, and at the same time she was terrified. All of this could come crashing to an end at any time and she’d be back where she was before… not unhappy, but definitely stagnant.