Page 72 of Just My Ex

She nods, but then goes to the window and pulls up the shades. She gazes out on the sunset over our neighbors’ houses in the distance. “You must have some feelings about it. I mean, you lived in this house for eighteen years, right?”

I remind myself I want to be more honest with my thoughts. I clear my throat and try. “It’s strange that it looks so different.”

It’s not like I can sit here and stare at her while I talk about these things, so I start to move around the room, opening the closet—empty—and the bathroom door. It’s been completely remodeled, and now everything’s a veiny white and grey marble.

“The room looks so generic and clean, new carpet, new paint, new everything. Feels like I’m an imposter here.”

With a small smile, she nods, encouraging me. She seems to sense how uncomfortable this all is for me, though, because she turns back to stare out the window.

I join her. There’s a nervous energy from her, like she wants to respond. But she’s quiet. Waiting.

“I wish you could have seen the bedroom before. But by the time I met you and brought you here, I was so used to staying with a friend or at a motel when I’d come back to Denver.” I jerk my head in the direction of the door near Quinn. “Gabriel and I shared the bathroom. He got frustrated with me about the toothpaste remnants in the sink.” I chuckle at the memory. “And then there were always those nights my father would go in and talk to him before he fell asleep. I could hear their conversations. I wanted him to come in here and do the same.”

Quinn shunts out a short breath. “Why not? Why Gabriel and not you?”

“Because Gabriel could talk to the guy and was a good listener. He could actually get him laughing. Oliver sometimes could too. And Milo was always the cute little one, you know? But my dad and me? Oil and water. For as long as I can remember.”

“No, Henry. Your father had the obligation to bridge the gap, to make the effort. Your strained relationship is on him.Hewas the adult. You were just a kid.” Her voice breaks. “Just a kid who wanted love from his dad. I’m sorry.” She bites her bottom lip and stares at the floor.

I hold back a sniff and shake my head. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does. You saying it wouldn’t matter for Navie to get love from you?”

“That’s different. She’s …” I grin. “She’s Navie. She’s our girl. Of course I love her.”

“You’re just as loveable as she is.” She shoots out another breath and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s going to be harder than I thought to be here with Thomas Tate.” Her gaze flicks to mine and she holds out her arms, a crease in her forehead. “Can I …?”

I step forward and we wrap our arms around each other. I breathe in her vanilla scent. It would be so natural to kiss her, but I hesitate, unsure of where we are in our relationship. She nudges her head against my chest, searching for and finding the exact right spot to rest it.

I soak this up, committing to memory everything about this experience. Cherishing her is what I’ve missed most, and now that we’re here and she’s in my arms, that’s what I want. For her to feel special and loved. Adored. Appreciated. There’s so much I could say, but I’m sorting out the words and how to tell her this when I get a call. I can see from my watch that it’s Sebastian.

I ignore it, because I’m expecting a lecture, something about getting along with Dad for Mom’s sake. But when he calls again moments later, I groan. I answer it with a swift, “Yeah?”

“Raymond Delfini has been arrested.”

Chapter 29

Quinn

The furrow on Henry’s brow is one for the record books.

And I can’t suppress a tiny smile over it all.

Granted, I’m angry at Raymond as well. His actions were deplorable. But at least he’s behind bars for a day or two, and maybe that will expedite our application for a protective order.

We’re in Henry’s old bedroom, and Navie’s playing with some old, wooden blocks that Celine had. I’m curled up on an easy chair in the corner and Henry’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture rigid.

“This is good news,” I insist. Raymond was arrested after the police got a tip that he’d broken into my house. He’d strewn paper confetti, I don’t even know how many pounds of it, all over the entryway, living room, and kitchen, and set out an old, broken-down toilet in my living room with a sign that said, “Flush, flush.” He’d just started spraying the whole thing down with the hose when the police showed up.

“It’s good news that he’s in jail, but it’s only temporary, and then what?” Henry swears quietly. “It’s fortunate the police came when they did. There could have been a lot more damage to the house with that water from the garden hose.”

We’d missed phone calls from my mom—I guess we were distracted by staring into each other’s eyes—and that’s when she called Sebastian about it all. I promptly called her back, and she sent photos.

“I would say he should clean it all up, but I don’t want him in my house ever again.” I get up from the corner chair and walk to the bed. Placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder, I try to smile. “This is progress. At least now the police will take it seriously. And he can’t continue contesting the will after all this.”

“He made a huge mess.”

“I told my mom I’d come back and clean it up. She offered to do it for me, but I told her I would because it’s safe now that he’s in jail.”

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