Page 104 of Ella Gets the D
Leah wraps an arm around me. “Say less. We didn’t see a thing. Just do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Send him over to my house if you don’t want him after your divorce. I’ll fix him a plate and help him start the healing process.”
I bounce her away with my hip. “Get out.”
The music is so loud, I miss the doorbell. Charles appears in the backyard, wearing a scowl like he walked over hot coals to get here. He squints at the chaos in the kitchen.
As luck would have it, Beyoncé’s “Break My Soul” pipes through the speaker system. Erica and the girls provide background vocals as I sing into the rolling pin. Julian is voguing next to Joseph, who came after an art installation. Mama and Ms. Thelma are off to the side, chatting, and the kids are busy stuffing their faces with the pizzas they made. Haile gives me a thumbs-up and a wink, so that’s a plus.
Charles points to the back door to let him in. I’m a little out of breath, which draws his brows together when I open it. “Hey,” I say to his clenched jaw.
He scans me from head to toe, taking in the gray fuzzy socks the kids got me for Christmas, my black leggings, and a Jimi Hendrix tee. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” His gaze flicks to the party over my shoulder.
I match his glare but add in an eye roll and step aside. “Check your Grinch at the door. This is our son’s party.”
Rustling behind him has both of us turning to see Katharine navigating the walkway with wrapped gifts up to her nose. “Hi, dear!” The boxes muffle her voice but not her enthusiasm.
My eyes snap back to her worthless son. “You left your mother with all those boxes?” Just when I think he can’t sink any lower. “Move.” I push him out the way and take the four steps to relieve Katharine.
What kind of son treats his mom this way? I’d pop Jackson if he dared. His dad is six three, so it’s only a matter of time before I’ll need the chair to reach him.
Exhausted blue eyes meet mine with an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”
Charles is already inside. Heads turn as he ignores everyone and goes straight to the dining room. He squats down andstretches out his arms, his gray peacoat engulfing our children. All eyes are on him, except for Morgan, who sneaks a shot of liquor into her hot cocoa from a flask in her gold clutch. She’s the only friend here who’s had the displeasure of experiencing Charles Hudson up close and personal.
Mama’s eyes dart to me from the other side of the kitchen island. It’s big, but notthatbig for Charles to ignore her. He already left his own mother outside to deal with the gifts and winter cold. I guess he’s on brand.
“This is a beautiful home, Ella.” Katharine unbuttons her long beige coat and takes in the winter decor and homemade crafts. “It has your touch.” Her smile lands on Mama, and she touches her pearls. “Is that Mary Lee?” A wisp of her southern accent tickles her tone as she rushes to embrace my mother in an eager hug.
“Oh my word! It’s so good to see you!” Mama is half a second from squealing in her face. She gets giddy seeing people the same way I do at the sight of a restocked pantry.
“Grandma!” Jackson pulls away from Charles to rush to Katharine, only this time he’s cautious not to tackle her.
Haile chases behind with an infectious grin. “Come see our rooms!” She and Jackson reach for their grandmothers’ hands to guide them up the stairs, their chatter disappearing as they go.
It’s a rare occasion for both grandmas to be under the same roof. I’m thankful I don’t have a monster-in-law, even if the monster is her Gucci-wearing son.
“You landed on your feet.”
Speaking of which.
I save myself the trouble of asking why he’s wearing a three-piece suit to his son’s birthday party.
His gaze tips up the stairs. “Don’t even think about it,” I say to his profile. His ass will hit the sidewalk before his Italian leather shoe clears the first step.
He seers at my command and squares his shoulders, earning Julian’s attention. My headshake lets him know I got it, but Charles’s lips twitch at my defiance. “You’re still cute when you’re angry.”
“It’s sad that you still think this a game. If you want to play any more today”—I nod at the basement door—“go downstairs.”
The grin he gives me curdles my stomach. Charles is an attractive man on the surface, but I know better. He steps around me to tour the living room. “You’ve done well for yourself, El. New job.” He picks up a vinyl record. “New house. A furnished one in Georgetown, at that.” His gaze slides back to me with a scowl, and he steps closer. “The child support I allow you would be a few thousand short of what you’d need to stay here.”
I fold my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “What are you getting at?”
We’re close enough for me to inhale the cologne that once drove me wild. Now it burns my nose hairs. He leans forward to cut the remaining distance between us. “If you wanted to be a kept woman, you should’ve stayed at home. All of this”—he motions around the living room—“for what? To say you can live without me while I still foot the bill?”
Heat explodes through my body at the sudden urge to push his head through a brick wall. This spineless, arrogant, heartless man thinks he can walk into my house and makemefeel bad about it?
