“Do you need anything?” she asks Brooklyn, acting as if there’s not a virtual stranger in my house.
We never pack a bag for Brooklyn. She has clothes at my house, clothes at Al’s, and it’s not a big deal where they all end up.
“No, Mommy, just meee,” my daughter teases, and I laugh at her sense of humor shining through.
I’m still staring at the man. Alison has never had great manners to begin with. “Hey man, I’m Crush.” I extend my hand to him.
“Oh, yeah, Christopher, I wanted you to meet James. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now. Thought it was about time y’all both met.” My shoulders tense at this little unforeseen situation landing on my front porch. I mean, I knew Alison would date again, but I didn’t expect she’d show up without warning. Ah, who the hell am I fooling? Of course I should’ve seen this coming.
“James, it’s nice to meet you,” I begin, and he extends his hand to mine as Brooklyn has her arms around his neck.
“Wow, Crush Colton. I’m so honored to meet you. Man, I’ve been a fan of yours for years. I just know you’ll be taking us to the big game this year.” James’s face reddens, and he has a large goofy ass grin on his face. And, I wasn’t happy when he was holding my daughter a minute ago, and I’m even less happy about this little fact—as he still holds her.
Fuck, not only has Al’s new man showed up on my porch but he’s a gushing fan, too.
“Peanut, baby, I think you still have your bed to make. Can you go do your chore right quick?” James places her down as Alison’s glare meets my own when our eyes connect, once Brooklyn is out of the room. I shift my gaze to James, a tight smile on my face.
“Listen, I’m sure you’re a great guy, and I’m sorry for doing this to you, but…” My gaze is back on my ex-wife. “It’s wrong in so many ways for you to just show up on my front doorstep, Al. And though I’ve known this was coming because our daughter can’t keep a secret, I thought we’d decided we’d have an open discussion about new people we’d introduce Brooklyn to.”
Alison’s reddened face doesn’t scare me as she opens her mouth, and I can only imagine what will come out of it. James waves her off to stop her. “You’re right, Christopher. We should have done it differently. How about we meet for dinner one night, and I can prove to you I’m not a pedophile?”
He attempts to defuse an uncomfortable situation with odd humor, and I can appreciate it, a little. “Yeah, James, it’s a great idea.” I walk to the kitchen and write my cell number on a piece of paper for him. “Here, call me or text me, and we’ll set something up. And thanks for understanding my concern.”
He gives me a little nod even though Alison’s ears are about to erupt in flames. “Well, since you already know I’ve been around Brooklyn, she’s a sweet girl, and I only want to respect you and any boundaries you have.”
“Before you ask, he’s not slept over with Brooklyn in the house, but—” Alison begins, and the but is her way of saying it’s what she wants.
“Thanks for being honest with me, Al.” I cut her off when Brooklyn comes bounding out of her room, this time jumping into my arms. “If you trust him, it’s good enough for now, and if this is the way you want to proceed, I know you always have her happiness in mind. But I’d still like to have dinner.” My tone changes once Brooklyn has popped herself into this conversation, but Alison’s bitch demeanor doesn’t change.
“Thanks, Christopher,” James responds.
“No problem, and call me Crush, almost everyone else does.” I take Brooklyn’s light body, placing her over my head as if she were a pillow. “I’ll see you soon, depending on my practice, okay, peanut?”
“I’ll miss you, Pops.”
I bring her down to my head and place a kiss on her forehead. “I miss you already, peanut. See you later, and be good for your mommy.”
James and Brooklyn pass through the door first, then Alison follows them, but as she does, she glances back at me, giving me the bird before slamming the door. Glad to know some things never change.
I’m in a comfortable pair of khaki shorts and a button-down blue gingham top, and I walk past my phone on the way to the grocery store, and an incoming text has me stopping—actually, several of them—and my heart leaps.
Pretty Boy: Thought I’d see if you wanted to let me kick your ass in Call of Duty. Of course, I have several games I can kick your ass in.
The mere thought of his name on my screen sends a shiver down my spine. This has me realizing I need to come to terms with my apparent feelings for Ryder Hanley. I’ve known for a while, but having him smack dab back in my life just doesn’t mess with my cock as it hardens against the zipper of my khaki shorts, but it fills me with hope I can find happiness with someone who won’t rip my heart out and dance on it.
Speaking of the devil, I notice a text from her, and I click on it immediately. A parent’s worry never subsides when their child is away from them. Anxious about Brooklyn, I deal with my ex first.
The Anti-Christ: You throw a fit over James and you let that fucker asshole around my daughter.
I’ll choose to ignore this. Brooklyn has a big mouth, so I should have known she’d tell her mom about her new friend. And speaking of Ryder, I bypass his text to call him instead.
“Hey,” he answers, and his normal upbeat tone is subdued.
“Hey there—with Brooklyn here, I got up, and we did our traditional pancakes for breakfast. We ate those while watching a Barbie movie, and then the anti-Christ came to pick her up with her new boyfriend, who I’ve never met. I started a shopping list, took a shower, and am avoiding calling the bitch back when she threw a fit about you spending the evening with us. But don’t worry your pretty little head because I’ll be over soon.”
He begins to whistle through the line. “Are you sure you’re not part girl with as gabby as you just were?” I don’t have a chance to respond to him before his inquiry continues. “So, what was the devil's excuse for losing her shit about me last night?”
“Let’s see, I think it has to do with her thinking you’re a fucker of an asshole, or something along those lines,” I explain, running back into my bathroom to rake a brush through my hair and keeping it in place with some gel.
“Oh, just that? And to think I was worried she’d overreact.”
“Yeah, just like taxes and death, Alison doesn’t change either.”
We both howl through the phone, and my smile is so large, it stretches from end to end, at the sound of his voice.
“So, you wanted to kick my ass at Call of Duty?” I change the subject.
"Or I can kick your ass at something else, too, if you're interested?" Ryder's words don't hold a hint of flirt in his voice, but they spur me on, nonetheless.
“Kick my ass? Do you think you can kick my ass at anything?” My own words carry a hint of flirt in them.
He’s quiet on the other line for a beat longer than normal. “Yeah, dude, I’m pretty confident there’s not much I can’t kick your ass in except for quarterbacking. But give me some time, and I could overthrow you on your position, too.”