Page 6 of Summer Affair
“You made it pretty clear the day you filed for divorce what a complete disappointment I am. Funny thing though, Nikki thinks I hung the damn moon, so who do you think is the problem now?” he said, and it was like lemon juice on a paper cut. “As for Sam, you wanted sole custody, you work it out.”
“I wanted sole custody because you were talking about moving to Singapore and he was afraid—” But Dirk was already gone.
She stared at her phone for a second to see if it was disconnected because he usually had the decency to say goodbye. She closed her eyes for a brief second, trying to breathe out the disappointment and hurt, trying to compose herself.
All she’d wanted was some time to tap into a part of herself that was long ago lost, and maybe a little space to breathe. And Sammy needed time with his father. But it didn’t seem that the universe cared what she needed or wanted. For that matter, very few men in her life gave a shit about her needs. It started with her dad, then her stepdad, even her brother. But she was going to make sure it ended with Dirk.
Jillian looked at her journal and sighed. Her wings had been clipped and it would take time to repair them. Right now, she needed to be a focused, devoted mom for a little boy who was going to be heartbreakingly disappointed.
So she didn’t get her Me Time. So what. She needed to focus on what really mattered—Sammy. And right then, he needed a parent who loved him enough for an entire family. A family, she realized, like Clay’s. Big and loud and overflowing with unconditional love.
Sammy was Jillian’s only child and since she couldn’t have more kids, the odds of her giving Sammy more siblings were slim to none, unless Jillian married someone with a ready family—which wasn’t likely since she was off men. Nope, for him, Jillian would have to be enough.
It was a responsibility and role she took very seriously.
“Everything okay?” Clay asked gently from behind her.
“Oh.” Blinking away the emotions, she turned to face him. She tried to smile, to play it cool but failed miserably. Unlike her friends, she didn’t have a cool bone in her body. If she felt it, she wore it for the world to see. Most days she was okay with that. But right then, she wished she could brush things off. “You know how it is.”
He’d moved closer, so close she could smell the chlorine and something more male on his skin, see the gentle understanding in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me.”
She waved a dismissive hand. She was already embarrassed to know he’d heard enough for pity to form, she didn’t want to bombard him the first night of his vacation—or at all. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear about this. Plus, here I am yapping your ear off when I should be asking you if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable.”
He looked at her for a long moment and she could tell he wanted to say more on the subject. But in a gesture, so moving, he simply said, “I like talking to you, Jillian.”
She snorted. “Me? We’ve barely had a dozen brief conversations.”
“They were a good dozen.” He must have grabbed a dry towel from the table because he held one out to her.
She took it and wrapped it around her and the robe. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused. “And I like talking to you because you’re real.”
The stark difference between Clay’s genuine concern and Dirk’s dismissive attitude was almost too much. The last few years of her marriage Dirk had quickly moved from ignoring to discounting, eventually throwing her away for a younger model. So she wasn’t used to gentle or thoughtful—didn’t know what to do with it anymore.
“I really am sorry about … whatever just happened,” she said, picking up her journal. She left the wine but grabbed her glass. “The bottle is practically full. I’ll leave it here for you to enjoy and tomorrow I’ll be by to drop off a welcome basket.”
He glanced at her glass. “Do you need a ride? To pick up your son?”
Unsure she’d be able to speak without embarrassing herself, she shook her head. Here was a perfect stranger offering to do something that the former love of her life wouldn’t do. Simply making sure she was okay.
“I barely even touched my glass, but thank you.” She looked at her list and sighed. “Have a good night, Clay.”
“Good night,” he said. “Oh, and if you need a pool for that party, please use this.”
Single-girl anxietywasreal and alive. If she wasn’t careful, it would back her right into a really bad decision. A decision that looked damn fine in her pool.
Chapter Three
RESOLUTIONS FROM JILLIAN’S JOURNAL
Stop lying about following resolutions.
Football was Clay’s endgame. From the time he’d reached middle school and his Pop Warner team took state, he knew what his future would be. And it wasn’t selling jock-itch cream on television like some of the other players who retired too early or were in rehab for substance abuse. Nope, Clay didn’t have a backup plan. Didn’t need one. Guys who did were done in two seasons. Tops.
It was Wednesday night, which was bro time. Some days they met at the gym and got in a few punches in the ring, other days they met at the family bar, Stout. Since his brother ran the bar and was being damn stubborn about hiring a new manager, his schedule was crazier than Clay’s—and that was saying a lot.
Wednesday in the summer meant major league baseball, so the bar offered four-dollar drafts. The big screens were turned to different games and the place was packed like a colosseum on Super Bowl Sunday, the ratio being one to four, with women dominating, meant there were a variety of choices. Shockingly, the only woman Clay had hoped to run into was curiously absent.
