Page 77 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
“I just—I want to talk to you.” He’s shifted tracks now, trying to wheedle and charm. “I just wanted to talk to you, and I saw the truck and I just—”
“This isn’t your house, Paul,” I snap. “It never has been and never will be. Who I have in my home is none of your business, and never will be.”
“You don’t get to fucking—” Paul starts, venomous, and then cuts off and starts over, calmer. “You’re my wife, Laurel. I don’t fucking care what some judge or some piece of paper says. You’re mine—”
“You better watch yourself, bud,” Ryder says, his voice a vicious snarl.
I move aside a little, my own anger getting the better of me. “I’m not your wife, Paul! I stopped being yours a long time ago. You lost that years ago, long before we ever got a divorce. I’m not your wife. I’m not your friend. I’m nothing to you—except the mother of your child. We will never be together again, Paul. Get that into your head!”
Paul surges forward, eyes blazing, spittle flying. “You fucking played me! You lured me in and seduced me and made me think I could be something I wasn’t, and then you dropped me like a rotten egg!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m beyond baffled now; he’s not making a lick of sense.
“You got fat, you stupid whore! After you had that brat of a kid of ours, you let yourself go! How was I supposed to feel any desire for you or pretend I loved you when you looked like that? And then once I finally got rid of you, suddenly you look like that!” He gestures at me, at my chest. “You dump me like I’m fucking garbage, and then get all—all sexy? You’re hotter now than when we met! It’s not fucking fair!”
Ryder steps into Paul’s face. “A very thin thread of control is all that’s stopping me from breaking you like a twig, Paul.” His hand lifts, curls into Paul’s shirt, and shoves, once, hard—Paul goes airborne several feet, hits the ground tumbling backward, rolling to land with a thunk on the sidewalk.
I’m shaking, only barely keeping it together. I stop Ryder with a hand to his chest, kneeling in the grass next to Paul. I look at him, and then back at Ryder, who is watching me, protective and powerful and watchful—and peace flows through me.
“Once upon a time, Paul, what you just said would’ve destroyed me.” My voice is utterly calm, my eyes fixed on his. “Once upon a time, when I cared what you had to say. Once upon a time, when you had power over me. Once upon a time, when I was weak.” I meet his eyes, and feel only pity, now. “I’m not that woman anymore, Paul. You don’t have the power to hurt me. I’m sorry you feel the way you feel, but none of that is my fault. I did everything I could make us work, and I wasn’t ever enough for you. So I moved on. It’s been over between us for a long time.”
Paul’s eyes search me, but he says nothing.
“And you know something else? Yes, Paul, I look better now than I ever have. You know why? Because I feel better. I’m strong inside myself. I don’t need your approval, and I don’t care about your disapproval.” Paul reaches for me, but I shrink away. “Don’t touch me—ever. Don’t mistake me being calm for accepting this behavior. I’ve done my best to facilitate you having a relationship with Nate because you’re his father, and regardless of how you’ve treated me, I know you love him and I want him to know his father. But this? This is unacceptable. You’ve frightened him, and I’m not okay with that.” I harden my voice and stand up, move backward away from him. “I will be asking that your time with Nate be supervised from here on out. Furthermore, if you ever come here again I’ll get a restraining order against you—it’s not an idle threat, but rather a promise.”
Paul stands up, scrambling to his feet—I feel Ryder tense beside me, and Paul holds up his hands. “I’m leaving.”
I lean into Ryder. “I really do hope you find the help you need, Paul.”
He hangs his head. “Don’t, Laurel—just fucking…don’t.”
I shrug. “Okay, then.” I sigh, resting my head against Ryder’s shoulder. “Goodbye, Paul.”
He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair, gets into his car, and, after a long lingering glance at me, drives away.
I wait until he’s out of sight, and then I turn into Ryder and wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in him and breathe him in.
“You okay, Laurel?”
I shudder, but nod. “Yes.”
He cups my face. I look at him, let him see all of me as I am in this moment: vulnerable, frightened, upset, but okay. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
