If she was there, it meant she was in a bad enough mood that she didn’t give a damn.
And that was not on his agenda for the evening.
Or any evening.
He knew before he got to the door that it was Tressa. He saw her car parked behind his truck in the driveway. Her way of blocking him in. Holding him captive to her.
Hurrying to the door, before she got more upset and insisted on searching his house to see what he was doing with their son there, he hoped to God his lips didn’t look kissed as he pulled open the door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked the second he saw her.
“Nothing. I just...wanted to see Levi.”
“He’s in bed, already asleep.”
“So, I can peek in on him.”
“No, Tressa. You know our agreement. My home is my space.” He was not going to let her drama into his world.
“I just want to see him, Jem. He gets his cast off soon and I just... I feel horrible that it happened, and...”
Her tears softened the steel around his heart. Tressa really did care. She loved Levi. And he knew how much she let things eat her up inside.
“You’ll wake him up, and since he knows he only sees Mommy at her house, he’ll be confused. Hasn’t he already been through enough?” He hated to use her own tactics against her, feeling dirty, like he was becoming her, but since he obviously couldn’t do as she wanted—mostly because Levi wasn’t in his room—she left him no choice.
A chair scraped against a paver outside. He realized, too late, that he’d left the sliding glass door open in his haste to prevent a Tressa meltdown.
Turning her sharp gaze from behind him, to Jem, she said, “You have someone here.”
Not now, Tressa. For God’s sake, not now.
“A buddy is out back sharing a beer with me.”
“Don’t lie to me, Jem.”
“Fine. I’m on a date. We just finished dinner.”
“With Levi in the house?” Her voice had already raised an octave, the sharpness growing more acute.
He wanted to help her. To make her see how she looked when she got this way. To hear how she sounded. He knew she didn’t mean it. And would be sorry later. She’d make it up to him.
Except that it just wasn’t possible anymore. Because he knew that no matter how sorry she was, there’d be another time. And so—God help him—he’d taken their son and walked out on her when she’d thrown out the divorce challenge one particularly exhausting Sunday afternoon.
“Single father’s date, Tressa. And it’s just dinner. Outside.”
“No. Don’t you pull that bullshit on me, Jem Bridges.” Tressa’s voice rose another octave. “You forget, I know you.”
He hoped none of his neighbors had their windows open. One of the reasons he’d made the stipulation that Tressa couldn’t come to his house was because he couldn’t stand the way people looked at him after one of her screaming episodes. Like he should somehow be able to stop her.
Like he must have done something pretty heinous to have upset her like that.
“You can’t wait to stick it in her, can you?” she spat. Literally. Her saliva landed on his chin. “You’re nothing but a whore, Jem Bridges. A whore! I worked like a dog, helping you get where you are, supporting all the long hours, the responsibilities I had to take on alone, while you climbed up in your world. And now that you’re the boss, what do you do? Do you take care of me? The one who had your back during the hard years? No. You walk out on me. On our family. So you can whore around. You think I don’t know what’s going on?”
“It’s not what you think, Tressa.” It wasn’t a one-night stand, a cheap liaison. But she’d like the truth even less. Because if Jem had another woman in his life, she’d lose even more control...
“I see that twinkle in your eye, Jem,” she said. “It hasn’t been there in a long time. I’d actually forgotten it. Until suddenly—ta-da!—here it is. Just like you to rub my face in it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”