Page 1 of Loving You

Chapter One

BRONX

“Remindme again why murder is a bad idea.”

Dallas laughed on the other end of the phone. “Because you’d go to jail for the rest of your life. Jules’s family is way too rich and privileged for you to get away with any kind of plea that wouldn’t leave you behind bars until you die. I’m pretty sure Lucas won’t forgive you for that.”

Bronx covered his face and groaned, deliberately not staring at his front door. Well, his former front door, though the house hadn’t closed yet, so it was still technically his.

And Jules’s, which was why he was behind the wheel of his rental, having a panic attack instead of going inside.

“Is he there?” Dallas asked.

Bronx looked at the BMW in the driveway and sighed. “He bought a new convertible. It’s cute.” And it was. It was a sporty little two-seater that had the top down in spite of the fact that it looked like rain on the horizon. It was very expensive, the kind of car that existed to show off money. The trim was black, the dash a sort of woodgrain, and theseats were white leather—something Bronx hadn’t touched in years, thanks to having a kid.

Jules always resented his nice things getting ruined. He’d buy them, then have little hissy fits when Lucas got smears of jam or dirt on them. At one point, Jules bought Lucas designer clothes, then had a complete meltdown when his baby Ralph Lauren polo got dirty. It was one of the biggest fights they’d had that year. Bronx couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Jules expected him to somehow keep their son from getting dirty.

Their son, who, at the time, still wasn’t walking.

“Just carry him, then,” Jules had demanded.

Bronx hadn’t dignified that with a response. Instead, he’d packed away all of the expensive clothes into a vacuum-seal bag and shoved them into the closet. Jules didn’t talk to him for a week, and Bronx took the reprieve. God, he should have known then.

But that incident was one in a damn laundry list of moments he should have known that Jules was not the man to marry, let alone raise a child with. Bronx had stopped trying to keep up with his grievances. What did it matter anyway? They were officially divorced. All he had left to do was the final walkthrough of the house. Then, the buyers would pay the money, the papers would be signed, and it would be over.

Completely and totally over.

“Do you think I made a mistake?”

Dallas was deathly quiet for a long beat. “About what? Because if you’re thinking about reconciling with that absolute fuck-weasel?—”

“No. No. Fuck no,” Bronx said in a rush. He’d been hurt and confused for about three days after he’d come home to Jules gone and a note left behind. And after that, he’d justbeen angry. And tired. And shattered that he’d wasted so many years of his life on a piece of shit like him.

He didn’t blame himself for all the ways that Jules was terrible, but he did blame himself for staying when he knew the man had no intention of being anything other than a selfish ass. And he blamed himself for raising his son in such a toxic home.

Lucas was blind, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see what was going on around him. He was more astute than either of them had given him credit for. It had taken him far too long to realize Lucas knew exactly what was happening behind their closed bedroom door or how often Bronx slept in the office.

Or how often Jules never came home.

“So what could possibly be a mistake?” Dallas pressed.

“Leaving Luke at home,” Bronx admitted. “The fact that Jules had the fucking balls to text me and ask me not to bring Luke is one thing. I expected that. But shouldn’t I force him to look our son in the face and answer all the questions he’s running from?”

“Do you think that would be fair to Luke?” Dallas shot back. “You asked him, right? If he wanted to go?”

Bronx sighed. “Yeah. He laughed and said he’d rather walk around barefoot on dead summer grass.”

Dallas sucked air between his teeth, likely remembering feet full of stickers that were a mark of their childhood. “Then, no. You didn’t make a mistake leaving him home. You don’t need to emotionally torment your child to stick it to your ex.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant,” Bronx said, furious for a moment, but then he deflated because, despite his intent, that’s exactly what he would have done if he’d dragged Lucas along to spite his ex. “Sorry. Christ, I’m just…really tired. This is harder than I thought it was going to be.”

“I know. But it’s almost over. Everything you left behind you didn’t want, right?”

“There’s a couple photo bins in the basement I still want, but otherwise, yeah,” Bronx said. He could live without those too, though, if push came to shove and Jules was so unbearable he needed to flee.

He had all of Lucas’s childhood photos on his computer, but he really didn’t want to give up those bins if he didn’t need to. He liked having those early hard copies he’d taken when Luke was first brought home. He had a pile of photos from when Lucas was in the NICU, born early and covered in wires and tubes. He was so small—so delicate. Bronx hadn’t realized just how strong his son would grow up to be. There were also a few of the surrogate mom, who had since passed, and those were precious.

But Bronx knew damn well he’d live without all of it if it meant closing this chapter in his life. The ink from his divorce was still drying on the decree, and all that was left was this last moment with the house. Then Jules would be out of his life for good, and he could start rebuilding.

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