Page 55 of Crush
I sighed.
I'd gone from beingthis closeto having what would've been the hottest sex of my life … to needing to have a chat with the angry ex-wife instead. Trust me, there was no need for a cold shower.
I stepped outside. The second Cynthia saw me, her window lowered, and I saw the ol' familiar scowl that always managed to lay my heart out on ice.
“What's going on here, Cynthia?”
“That daughter of yours is awreck,” she said. It never failed to amuse me how Chloe became my daughter when things between them went poorly.
“That's nice, but what happened?”
“She has atoxictongue. Every word out of her mouth is pure poison—it's like she's hell-bent on punishing me for every mistake I've ever made! I'm sorry, I'm not perfect, but I won't accept that kind of abuse from a teenage girl! We've been arguing for hours—I can't even get any sleep in my own house!” She tutted. “Chloe sure loves staying withyou,though—so here you go! You can take her!”
I sighed. Somehow, I doubted I was getting an accurate or unbiased account. “Cynthia, I know it can be hard with Chloe—”
“Oh, I'msureyou do,” she said with a healthy roll of her eyes. “You were alwayssooohelpful with raising Chloe. Oh, what a fantastic help you were—spending months on the road, or when you actuallywerein Boston, going out for beers every night with your hockey 'boys.'And now you just pass the parenting duties off to your hot-to-trot nanny, am I right?”
I shook my head. I was never a perfect parent—and neither wasshe, for that matter—but I'd changed a lot since our divorce. Not that I cared to debate all this old shit with her. Frankly, I thought all these arguments were supposed to come to an end once we got the hell out of each other's lives.
Oh, and I wasn't even going to go anywherenearthat hot-to-trot nanny remark.
“Cynthia, my point is, I know it's hard, but youhaveto let me know before you just show up with Chloe. I can't take her now.”
“Itriedto let you know. I called you a hundred times but you never answered.”
I reached into my pocket for my phone. I pulled it out, but something else came with it—Brynn's racy thong. Eyes wide, I stuffed her underwear back into my pocket. Cynthia didn't say anything—so she must've missed it, because shedefinitelywouldn't let that go without some sort of smart comment.
Close one.
I checked my phone. Cynthia hadn't called ahundredtimes, no, but she had tried to call me plenty over the past hour. I hadn't noticed.
I frowned. “Sorry. Guess I didn't hear it.”
“Mm,” Cynthia said skeptically.
“Anyway, that doesn't change our problem. It's your weekend to have the kids, Cynthia. The playoffs are about to start and I have to leave for Tampa first thing tomorrow morning.”
“So have your nannytake care of her. That's what you pay her for, isn't it?” She huffed. “Or hm, do you pay her for something else,I wonder?”
My eyes narrowed. “I don't know what you're saying, but I don't like it. I think you better go now, Cynthia.”
“Did you have a good time at the gala?”
Does she have some kind of problem with Brynn?
“Yeah. Sure,” I answered. “Bye now, Cynthia.”
“Bye, Shea. Oh, wait, one last thing before I go?”
I groaned. “What is it?”
“Those ridiculous slut panties in your pocket—do those belong to her? Your new number one fan?”
I grimaced. “… I don't know what you're talking about.”
She cackled as she put her car into gear. “Oh, Shea. You were always a bad liar.”
“And you were always the best.”
