Page 19 of Everything We Give

“I know who you are,” I say, cutting him off. Dragging the wig from my head, I scratch my scalp and tame my hair.

“Well, then.” James shoves his hand into his pocket when I don’t take his proffered greeting.

What does the guy expect? He treated Aimee poorly their last year together only to remind her yesterday of Phil’s assault and his own crappy behavior. The dude wouldn’t take down the painting of the meadow in their dining room, the site of the incident. Who does that?

Sick bastard.

James made Aimee cry yesterday. He’s the reason we’ve been off-balance all summer, teetering back and forth as we try to find each other again. I still haven’t heard the full details about what went down yesterday, and now that Aimee’s been distracted with work, I wonder when I will.

“Who’s here, Daddy?” Caty tugs the door wider and peers outside. She smiles up at James. “Hello, I’m Sarah Catherine. You can call me Caty. Everyone else does.”

James blinks and moves back a step. It isn’t a full step, just enough of a reaction to make it obvious Aimee’s Mini-Me took him by surprise. Caty has her mom’s smile and wild hair. Though Aimee now wears hers shoulder length and does that blow-out thingy to straighten her curls.

“Hi.” James’s throat bobs with a rough swallow. “Hello, Caty. It’s nice to meet you. I’m James a—” He stops, glancing at me, almost daring me to object to what he’s about to say. He returns his attention to Caty. “I’m a friend of your mom.”

I grimace. So much for our “stranger danger” chats. I yank off the tutu Velcroed at my waist and shove the costume at Caty, nudging her behind the door. “Go get ready for your nap.”

Caty clamps the princess outfit to her chest. “I don’t wanna nap,” she whines.

“Pick out a book, then.” I don’t care what she does, so long as she’s deep inside the house. I pat her head and pivot her around. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Caty thrusts out her lower lip, but she obeys.

Gaze narrowed, I study James. Gone is the longer surfer hair. He’s still tan, and though he wears a shirt and shorts, his attire is a far cry from the board shorts and oldTORNEO DE SURFshirt he wore when I met him on the beach, and again a couple of days later when I ran into him outside Casa del sol’s beach bar in Puerto Escondido. Despite the reconstructive surgery to his face, he now looks like a Donato, his posture and attire more aligned with his brother Thomas.

James rubs his forearm, then lets that arm fall by his side, not looking at all at ease under my scrutiny.

“Let me start by saying I’m sorry for—”

“Kissing my wife?” I interject.

His jaw hardens. “For coming here.” He motions at the house. “I knew Aimee wouldn’t be here and the last time she saw you and me together ...” He braces his hands on his hips. “I understand it was awkward, back when I was Carlos.”

Ah yes, Sunday lunch at the Tierneys’ with two surprise guests: Carlos and Natalya. That was fun. Not. I cross my arms. “Go on.”

James looks beyond me. “May I come in?”

“No.” I step outside, closing the door behind me.

“Fair enough.” James nods once and retreats a step. “How is she today?”

“Aimee? Fine,” I clip, though truthfully, I don’t know. I should have called her this morning.

“Why are you here?” I ask, directing the conversation away from Aimee.

He lifts a shoulder, nonchalant. “Mark me curious. I wanted to meet you.”

“You wanted to know if I was worthy enough of Aimee.”

He purses his lips, but eventually nods. The man has balls.

“Are you back for good?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “My sons and I are in Hawaii. We live there now.”

Thank God for that.

“I’m going to be up front with you.” James braces his legs. “I met Aimee yesterday to apologize for some things that happened between us while we were together. I didn’t want you to assume anything is going on between us.”

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