Page 4 of Just My Ex

I took Navie to the Tate resort in Longdale Colorado, and we hung out for a few days. It was nice to get away from the drama and think about my grandfather. And it was good for Navie to see Henry’s family.

But any peace I grasped was stirred up when my ex, Henry Tate, knocked on my door a few days after I returned to Irvine.

He’d heard something about the will and about my uncle not taking all of this too well. So, he came to check on us.

Up until then, I’d been careful to avoid him, asking my mom to help pass off Navie when he was able to get away from work and come spend time with her.

It was the first time I’d seen him since that last day in court—the day that the whole “till death do us part” thing was debunked.

But seeing him again, with him so worried for our safety? That was enough for a lifetime.

So, see? I can’t go running back to the Tates.

I’m winning at my new life. And I’m a dang good single mom to Navie.

I can certainly figure out how to keep us safe.

I do not need Henry or his family back in my life.

Chapter 2

Quinn

“There’s nothing we can do at this point,” The officer meets my eyes before looking back down at his clipboard.

The police came within the hour. I invited them to sit while I showed them the incriminating evidence against Raymond. They said they were fine standing, and they did take a step back when I loosened the top of the garbage bag to reveal the crumbled, smelly meatloaf.

“Nothing? Why not?” I ask. That unease I felt when I found the cake slash meatloaf in my refrigerator, that’s given way to full-fledged anger now. I take a deep breath.

“Mrs. Tate—” The taller one—maybe he said his name was Officer Ward—consults his paperwork.

“It’s Delfini. Tate was my married name. I was uh, previously married.” It’s been a year. I should probably get my license changed.

He hesitates, his mouth twitching with annoyance. “Ms. Delfini, it’s a problem that there’s been a break-in.” He has the kind of voice you can hear above the din of a crowd … like he thinks his words are simply too important for anyone not to hear them.

Aren’t officers trained to enter homes quietly when there are possible sleeping children inside? Geez.

“And we’re filing it as a break-in,” he continues, clearly not understanding my cold laser eyes, pleading with him to keep it down. “But there’s no evidence it was your uncle. And there’s nothing on your doorbell camera. We can’t charge him with anything without any evidence.”

“But itwashim. He’s angry at me for inheriting some money. He’s been harassing me. He toilet papered my yard and threw eggs at my parked car.”

Okay, saying that out loud sounds weak. Like I’m telling these guys who quite probably deal with actual scary stuff like murders and whatnot that I’m afraid of my uncle who toilet papered my yard. But this time? It’s gotten personal.

No one targets my daughter.

The officers exchange a look. “Did you see him do it? Can you prove it’s him?” Ward asks.

“Shh. My daughter’s sleeping,” I offer as gently as I can. Maybe if I smile, they won’t think I’m getting aggressive or anything. I sigh, adjusting my sloppy bun on top of my head. “No. I can’t prove anything. I just know it’s him. He wants to intimidate me into giving him his father’s money. I haven’t even received any of it yet.”

“But has he made any actual threats? The note seems friendly enough.”

The other officer tilts his head. “You inherited his father’s money instead of him? I guess I’d be upset, too.”

I raise both hands. “I don’t know why I inherited it, okay? There was a note from my grandfather with the will, and it said I had to trust him that this was the best course of action for everyone involved.” I wave my hands, realizing they don’t need to know all this. “My aunt and cousin seem fine with it. Raymond? Not so much.”

“What does he expect you to do?” The younger, shorter officer juts out his chin, and his eyes narrow like he wants to hear all the juicy family gossip. The older one shifts his stance and shoots a look at the younger guy, like he’d rather not touch it with a ten-foot pole.

“He’s contesting the will. The judge is supposed to make a decision one way or the other by the end of the month. Raymond’s trying to intimidate me to relinquish the money over to him.”

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