Page 54 of The Girl He Loves

Chapter 20

Monday

On Monday,Justin delivers his bomb. I’ll give him credit; at least we were able to enjoy the weekend before he made his return visit.

Thankfully, Doug took Tyler back to the park for another flag football game. Dax was trying to convince me to recreate the late-night lovemaking couch scene from last week, only this time in the bedroom. I was half convinced when the doorbell rang.

“Man!” Dax says and hops to the couch. He’ll get a boot in two weeks, and he’s chomping at the bit for that.

As I open the door I’m chuckling, but my laughter falls flat. Justin stands there looking angry. He’s slapping a packet of paper against his palm.

“Took you long enough.” He pushes past me into the house, walking straight into the living room.

“Excuse me,” I say. “You don’t live here anymore. You can’t just barge in.”

Justin gestures to the space. “I paid for this.”

“And you gave it to me in the divorce. Now I pay for it.” I gesture to the door.

“I have something to say.” He scowls at Dax.

The thing I’ve learned about Justin is that he’s a lot of bluster. He puffs up as a smokescreen, a distraction. Many times, after getting home late, I asked him where he’d been and got the defensive act followed by how-dare-I accuse-him-when-he-supports-me-with-staying-at-home song and dance. I’d long become accustomed to this and could see through it.

“Then say it.” I glance at Dax; his lips are pressed into a thin line. He’s holding a crutch in one hand as if preparing to use it in a fight.

I also notice Justin has a new hairstyle. His blond hair has been cut to allow for side-swept bangs, making him look younger and like a surfer. A trendier look for a guy who tended to be slightly boring in appearance. Even his dark-washed jeans and T-shirt are more in style.

Justin holds out the packet to me. “This is a court order to have a paternity test done on Tyler. I don’t think he’s mine, and this will prove it.”

Fury makes me snatch the papers from him instead of snatching all the hair off his stupid head. “Whose kid would he be, Justin? Never mind how much he looks like you.”

Justin points a long finger at Dax. “His kid, and he can start paying for him. And don’t say he looks like me, he looks like you. When it comes back that Tyler isn’t mine, I expect full restitution for all the child support money I’ve given you over the last three years.” He crosses his arms and lifts his chin.

“I’m surprised you don’t want restitution from the day he was born.”

Justin blinks a long one, then says, “My lawyer says I can’t get it].”

I lunge at him, but Dax leaps from the couch and catches me before I can get my hands around Justin’s throat or any other part of his body.

Dax stands behind me, his arms holding me back.

I say, “I really hope Tyler isn’t your kid. By some miracle of conception, I’ll take Mickey Mouse for his father over you any day.”

“I’ll be happy for the truth to come out,” Justin says, as if he’s taking the high road. “For Tyler’s sake.”

“Why are you doing this? What happens when the DNA proves you are his father? You gonna start paying what you owe on time then? You know I don’t have the money to fight you in court anymore.” Though I’ve stopped trying to get to Justin to kill him, I’m by no means relaxed.

“I’m not worried about that because I’m confident I’m not the father.” He points a finger to Dax. “Besides, you got yourself a cash cow there. I gave you everything, and it was never enough because you never got over him. He was always the elephant in the room. Now he’s not.”

Confused, I say, “I never once compared you to Dax. You’re talking like a crazy person.”

Justin puffs out his chest as if trying to seem larger than he is. “Maybe you didn’t say anything, but I could see your face when we’d watch his games. You’d twirl your hair and smile, and I knew you were thinking of him.” He jabs his finger at us again.

Because I’m only human and coming from a place of anger not common sense, I say, “Yeah, I probably was thinking about him. He’s so much better than you in bed.” On one hand, I hold up my pinky and pretend to measure it with the thumb and index finger of my other hand. Then I pointedly look at Justin’s crotch. The message is clear.

Justin’s face goes red. “You have forty-eight hours to submit the sample.” He storms out.

I break free from Dax and follow him. Outside, I notice he’s driving a new car. A BMW XX series.

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