Page 34 of Whatever You Want

I rested my head against his chest and tried to fight the smile that was taking over. “What a coincidence, I’d like to do the same thing.”

And kiss we did.

I forced myself out of my car, walked up the steps like a man condemned, and hesitantly pushed the doorbell. Pete, one of my old neighbors, was out walking his dog. I gave him a wave and a nod and turned my back before he could strike up a conversation.

Vanessa swung the door open and leaned against the frame. “Well, look who’s here. It’s my long-lost husband.” Her tone was anything but pleasant. “Have you already gotten bored with your little hookup of the month?”

“I’m not your husband anymore.” I looked over my shoulder. There were too many curtain twitchers peeking through their windows on this street. The last thing I wanted was to have an audience for this exchange. “And Ava isn’t a hookup.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “What exactly is Ava to you then?”

I stared at her, unsure how to respond. I should have anticipated Brina would say something. Not coming prepared was no one’s fault but my own.

“I don’t really think that’s any of your business.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong. Everything you do is my business.”

I swore to myself that I wouldn’t lose my cool no matter what she said, but if anyone knew how to get a reaction out of me, it was my ex-wife. Honestly, it seemed like she went out of her way to irritate me.

“Ava is no one you need to concern yourself with. So, don’t bring her up again.”

She studied me carefully. “She obviously means something to you if you’re so defensive about her?”

I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to say. If I told her about Ava, then she would call me insensitive. If I didn’t tell her, then I was hiding things from her. There was no winning with my ex-wife. Vanessa would only twist my words around and hold them against me. I was going to get shit either way.

“Leave her name out of this conversation.” My voice was low, but the warning was clear.

“I don’t want you bringing random women around my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” I reminded her. “You seem to forget that Brina is my child too, along with the fact that we are no longer married.”

Her eyes turned glacier. “Oh, I remember all right. I remember how you walked out on me and your daughter because you needed to focus on your own happiness. How you went and started a new life and never looked back. You knew that I still loved you and wanted to stay married, but you left me anyway.” You would have thought we divorced yesterday instead of almost three years ago with how worked up she was. “Meanwhile, you’re bringing random women around a daughter that you claim to love, but if you really did, then you wouldn’t have left us.”

“Are you done?”

If I had a dollar for every time she spewed this crap, I could buy my own island in the Caribbean. Her recollection of events is a hell of a lot different from reality, with one exception. I was the one who left. I spent six years of my life trying to make things work. I didn’t realize until the end that we were doomed from the start. I ignored so many red flags because I assumed everything could be changed or fixed. That was very naïve on my part. Being married to Vanessa was like a bad cold that never went away.

I tried. God, did I try, but I could only take so much.

“Why are you such an asshole, Logan?”

I sighed. “I’m not trying to be. I just don’t see the point in arguing. I came here to talk to you.”

She did her best to smooth out her frown. She was expecting a fight. I wasn’t going to give her one. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

“I want to take Brina on a trip this summer.”

“What kind of trip?”

“Are you going to let me in so we can talk, or are we doing this out here?”

“Fine.” She huffed. “You can come in.”

She held the door open but didn’t leave much room. I had to brush past her, and of course, she pushed her breasts out as soon as our bodies touched. I internally rolled my eyes.

“Are you still taking her to the carnival tonight?” she asked, walking over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“I am.” I pulled out a barstool and took a seat.

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