Page 96 of Her Football Star Ex

Ever.

Jaxon pulled away from my arms and went to grab his stuffed cat to take with him, ready to move on to the next thing. But when he came back and looked at me, he said, “Why are you crying?”

I wiped at the tears that I apparently wasn’t hiding very well and shook my head. “Mommy just gets sad about things sometimes.”

He patted my arm with his little hand, “You’re going to miss me tonight, aren’t you?”

And I couldn’t help but smile through my tears at just how small the world of a four-year-old was. “Yes, Jaxon. Of course, I’m going to miss you while you’re at your dad’s.”

* * *

“Have a good time with your dad,”I told Jaxon when he climbed out of my car at Vincent’s apartment. “I’ll see you on Sunday night.”

“Okay,” he said, slipping his arms into the straps of his backpack. “I’ll see you next time.”

I smiled, loving the way he worded things. Four-year-olds were the cutest.

He shut the car door behind him, and then started walking up the sidewalk that led to Vincent’s door.

I waited in my car, watching to make sure he made it in before I drove off. And when he disappeared inside, I pulled out of my parking spot and headed toward downtown to treat myself to a night on the town.

Sure, eating at a restaurant and clothes shopping by yourself weren’t nearly as fun as they would be with a friend, but since everyone I knew was in a relationship these days, this was how I got to spend my Friday night.

After dinner at my favorite burger place and finding a few cute blouses and jeans on sale at Fiona’s Boutique, I decided to head home to binge on the new K-Drama all the women in the K-Drama Addicts Facebook group had been talking about all week.

But when I opened the door of my car to put my shopping bags on the backseat, my eye caught on something black and white and furry.

Petrie.

I sighed.

Jaxon.

I really should know better by now than to let him carry that thing in his arms instead of putting it in his backpack with the rest of his overnight stuff.

I shut the car door and climbed into the driver’s seat, wondering if he’d be okay without his stuffed cat for one night. But even as I debated in my mind over whether my four-year-old would miss it when he got tucked into his bed tonight, I knew what I needed to do.

So instead of heading toward the northeast end of town where I lived, I drove the opposite direction back to Vincent’s apartment complex.

Maybe I’d get lucky and Jaxon would answer the door instead of Vincent.

After parking in one of the visitor’s parking spots, I grabbed the scraggly black-and-white thing from the seat behind me and climbed out.

I heard a baby crying as soon as I stepped onto the short sidewalk that led up to Vincent’s door.

Someone’s not happy.

I knocked and the crying got louder before the door opened. And the man on the other side, with a little baby screaming in his big muscular arms, looked very different from the last time I’d seen him.

He didn’t look like he’d shaved in weeks, his dark beard nice and full. His hair was going every which way, like he hadn’t had a chance to run a comb through it since he woke up. And his signature white T-shirt that was usually bright white had several spit-up stains on the shoulder and chest.

Vincent was a wreck.

The dark circles under his eyes told me he hadn’t had a goodnight’s sleep in weeks.

“Hi,” I said, feeling awkward for catching my ex at what looked like a really bad time. “Jaxon forgot this in my car earlier.” I held up the toy and offered it to him.

He reached out to take it from me, but when he removed his arm from where it had rested under his baby’s diapered bum, his arm came away with a creamy light green substance.

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