I pick out a pair of boots that should be a little looser, and finish dressing him without any more fits.
“Pick out two favorite books and a toy to bring with you.”
He races around the room, picking up and discarding the few toys we brought with us before settling on a big green tractor with bright yellow wheels.
“That’s what you want?”
“Yup.”
I hold out my hand and he takes it.
Z’s gone when we return to the living room, which I expected.
What I’m not expecting is the wad of cash he left on the counter.
“What the fudge?”
In case you need anything. -Z
Flipping through the stack of cash leaves me irrationally angry. Do I look like I can’t take care of myself or my child?
“Damn,” I mutter.
“Mommy?”
“Come on, let’s get going.”
I shove the cash in my purse, determined to give it back to Z at the first opportunity.
On the way down to Empire, I’m still irrationally stewing over the cash. I haven’t asked Z for a penny.
Unfortunately, I remember where Crystal Ball is quite well. It’s a few exits off the highway before the one for Empire Med, but there are some easy back roads that will take me to the hospital once I’m done.
You’re being stupid.
That little voice in my head hasn’t led me wrong before. Yet, from time to time, I ignore it. Okay, I ignore it more often than I should.
I pull into the parking lot behind the club, figuring that’s where Z’s truck will be. Sure enough, it is.
“Thee!” Chance shouts, pointing at the truck.
Great, I was hoping he was still asleep. Or that he didn’t have his father’s keen eye for vehicles.
“We’re only here to drop off something for him. We’ll see him later.”
“Why?”
Because I’m an idiot.
Other than his truck, there’s no sign of Z.
Duh, of course not. He works inside the strip club, idiot.
I reach over and grab an envelope out of the glove compartment, scrawl a note on the outside, and shove the cash inside.
“Come here.” I pull Chance out of his car seat and stomp over to Z’s truck.
“Are we leaving a pweasant?” Chance asks.
“Yup.” An I don’t need your charity present.
As I slip the envelope under the windshield—note side down—something big, heavy, and metallic bangs behind us. Heated voices scatter over the other city noises. One I recognize as Z’s.
Shit!
“Time to go,” I mutter. But because I’m a masochist, I can’t help glancing over.
The pain stabbing through my heart is the perfect punishment for today’s stupidity. A tall, slender woman with long, black hair swept up into a sleek ponytail has her arms around Z’s neck.
I swallow hard and try to look away.
She’s dressed normally enough, in jeans and a tank top that somehow look elegant on her rail-thin frame instead of sloppy.
The enormity of how foolish I am sinks in. The proprietary way she has her arms around Z states loud and clear that she’s more than just a dancer at the club.
My heart sinks as I realize she’s probably the “Stella” who keeps calling. Probably his girlfriend.
What was I thinking coming here?
Maybe I’m imagining it or it’s wishful thinking, but he doesn’t seem thrilled to have her up against him. His head’s back, arms at his side.
I spend too many seconds absorbing the scene. Enough time to make Chance wonder what I’m studying so intensely and follow my gaze.
“Thee!” Chance bounces up and down in my arms. “Mommy! Look!”
Why?
“Z’s busy,” I say to Chance, hoping like hell I can get out of here before Z hears the ruckus and we’re spotted.
“Thee!” Chance yells louder.
I hug him to me tighter. “Traitor,” I mumble under my breath.
“Lilly?” Z calls out, confusion loud and clear in his voice.
I fling open the back door and set Chance in his seat.
“Lilly, what are you doing here?” Z’s voice is right behind me now.
A sick jumble of fear, embarrassment, jealousy, and anger roll through my stomach. I grit my teeth and force myself to take a few deep breaths before facing him.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. But you left something on my kitchen counter I needed to drop off.”
He frowns and glances over at his truck. Noticing the envelope, he stomps over to the vehicle, giving me an opportunity to finish buckling Chance into his seat and throw myself into the driver’s seat.
I spare a quick glance at the girl, still standing by the backdoor, watching all of this with an annoyed expression. “Get in line, honey,” I grumble.
As if she heard me, she narrows her eyes in my direction. I’m tempted to flip her off, but I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day. Acting like a teenager won’t relieve the pain in my heart.
I turn the key and my engine roars to life. Quickly, before I lose my nerve, I put the car in drive.
“Mommy!” Chance shrieks.
My foot is poised over the gas pedal, but a hard slap against the side of the car has me shoving the gear back into park.
Keeping one hand against the side panel, in case I decide to take off I guess, Z moves in front of the car and slams his hands on the hood. “Get out.”
As satisfying as it might be at the moment, I can’t run Z over in front of our son. This whole scene is bad enough.
But I refuse to get out of the car. Instead, I turn the key, shutting off the engine.
Satisfied I won’t go anywhere, he makes his way to my side and knocks on my window.
I crack it an inch and he gestures for me to let it down more.
When I refuse, he leans down. “What the fuck are you doing?” he growls.
“Hi, Thee!” Chance yells.
His expression softens and in a gentler tone, he answers Chance. “Hey, buddy. Do you mind if I chat with your mom for a minute?”
“Nope!”
Thanks a lot, buddy.
Z turns his intense stare back to me and I bristle under his scrutiny.
“I don’t need your money.”
Z laughs. The fucker has the nerve to laugh.
That’s it. I shove my door open, knocking him back a few inches and he laughs harder.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“You’re insane.”
I slam the door shut. “I am not.”
He slaps the envelope of cash against his palm.
“I’m not a whore.” I seethe, flicking the envelope with one finger. “I don’t take cash left on the counter like a fucking hooker.”
The laughter abruptly stops and the severe expression that darkens his features has me wishing he’d go back to making fun of me.
He steps forward, backing me up until I’m wedged between him and the car. Gentler than seems possible considering how pissed he is, he takes my hand and sets the envelope against my palm.
“This isn’t about you. It’s about my son.” He leans in closer, whispering against my ear, “The son you kept me from for two years, Lilly. I plan to take care of him. So, get over yourself.”
Shivers race down my spine. Thank God for the car at my back because my knees are suddenly weak. “I’ve been taking care of him fine.” The protest seems pointless now.
He runs his knuckles over my cheek. “I know you have, pretty girl.” His dark blue eyes search mine. “You didn’t have to do it alone and you’re not doing it alone anymore.”
“We should still talk about—”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He shrugs. “I meant to give it to you yesterday, but we got distracted.”
Searing heat streaks over my cheeks and down my neck. We’d kissed and gotten carried away.
“I shouldn’t have com
e here.”
“You can come see me whenever you want.”
His gaze skips to the car window and he taps a finger against the glass, waving at Chance. “Although this probably isn’t the best place for my son to visit me.”
“I wasn’t planning to go inside,” I grumble. He’s still pinning me to the car, and I buck my hips, trying to gain some space.