For the next two weeks, as my way of apologizing, I drove Winnie to and from school every other day, when I had my days off. She fought against it at first, but a Fieri never took no for an answer. Besides, the weather was getting crappier each day, and Dallas’ public transit system was notoriously unreliable.

I thought I would grieve Lisa, at least a little bit, but in mind, she’d died the moment she faxed over those divorce papers. As for Nate, he seemed well-adjusted as well, too busy making new friends and playing basketball. I’d gotten him to try a few new sports lately so he had a chance to exercise more. With Winnie in our lives, Nate hadn’t brought up Lisa again after that day at the hospital, so I didn’t push the subject.

Mid-January, while I was driving Winnie and Nate to school, I popped the question. Unplanned. Out of the blue. I felt the urge, so I asked her. “Will you be my girlfriend, Win?”

It wasn’t particularly romantic, especially since the weather was crap and we were stuck behind a pile-up. There wasn’t even nice music playing, just the radio announcer warning drivers about accidents around the city. Nate was in the backseat, munching on leftover apple slices from breakfast, and Winnie was applying lip gloss.

Winnie put down her lip gloss and looked at me as if I’d asked her to marry me. “Dom…”

“I didn’t want to make a huge deal about it. And I wanted Nate to be around when I asked, so he didn’t feel left out,” I explained, running my tongue over my front teeth.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” Winnie said. “But we still need to keep it a secret until school lets out mid-June.”

“Does this mean you’re going to be my new mom?” Nate asked from the backseat.

“No, honey,” Winnie reassured him, giggling. “I’m still just Winnie.”

“I don’t mind if you become my mom,” Nate said nonchalantly. “My old one sucked. I bet you’d do a much better job.”

Winnie burst out laughing and finished applying her lip gloss. She didn’t answer Nate’s comment, though. I was certain if Winnie wanted to, she’d be a great mom.

After Winnie officially became my girlfriend, I became fiercely protective of her, as much as I was of Nate. She was my girl, and I hated the thought of other men hitting on her at school because they didn’t know she was taken. Winnie assuaged all my fears by informing me that contrary to my belief, no one hit on her at school, or in public, for that matter, and she was in no danger of being “poached” by another man.

I loved having Winnie in our life, and she brought sunshine to the rest of the bleak Dallas winter. We’d begun relaxing more, too, paying less attention over who saw us together. In the beginning, Winnie would get out a block away from the school and walk in. Now we walked in almost simultaneously. When it was time to go home, she left with us. I stopped parking at the parking lot, where traffic was busiest, and avoided the car drop-off/pick-up lanes for the same reason. Instead, I parked in a residential neighborhood a block or two away from Walnut Hill and did a bit more walking. The walking did us good, anyway, and the brisk air served as a better wake-up call than coffee.

Everything was going smoothly, too smoothly, until one day it all came crashing down.

One late-February afternoon, the three of us were walking to the car when Grayson stopped us. He was squeezing his son, Jason’s hand, so hard it was going purple around the fingertips. I tried to steer clear of the asshole, but he went out of his way to block our path.

“Jason tells me he sees Ms. Williams and Mr. Fieri together all the time,” Grayson announced. “Seems you two are awfully friendly.”

Grayson’s grating voice immediately set me on edge. My knuckles ached to connect with his jowl. “Grayson. How does your nose feel?”

“Is that a threat?” Grayson lashed out.

“No, just concerned about your wellbeing,” I bit back.

“Nothing to be concerned about, I’m perfectly healthy.” Grayson pointed a stubby finger at Winnie. “Her, though, I’m not so sure about. No self-respecting teacher with standards would date her student’s father. Seems she’s a bit messed up in the head.”

“We’re not dating,” I said. “And you need to mind your own business, not start unfounded rumors.”

“Oh, they’re not unfounded, Dominic,” Grayson said. “I have proof. And I fully intend to show the Principal when I see him for dinner tonight at my sister’s house.”

That fucking dipshit-asshat.

“Go ahead,” I challenged. He was bluffing. He couldn’t possibly have anything damning because Winnie and I never so much as held hands or kissed at school before. We’d been careful. Vigilant.

Grayson whipped out a photo and handed it to me. “Are you sure about that?”

It was a picture taken, not at school, but outside Winnie’s apartment. We were giving each other a passionate kiss good night, my arms snaked around her waist. I tore up the photo and glared at Grayson. “You followed us?”

“You two weren’t very good at keeping your dirty little secret, were you?” Grayson sneered.

“Why come to us with this?” Winnie demanded. “Why not go straight to your brother-in-law?”

“This,” Grayson gestured to the torn photo on the ground, “is leverage. My bargaining chip.”

“What do you want?” I snarled. Goddamn asshole thought he could blackmail us…well he had another thing coming.

“I want you to get on your hands and knees and beg,” Grayson said, a sinister laugh rippling through his body. “Beg me not to tell the world your about your little affair. Beg and apologize for what you did to me.”

“You deserved every punch,” I said. Both him and I knew he wasn’t talking about the parent-teacher conference. Our beef went way back. Back to when he almost raped my baby sister in high school. Back when I beat him up so hard he could hardly talk or walk for weeks. If I could go back in time, I would’ve made sure I punched his dick so hard he couldn’t procreate. That was my only regret: that I hadn’t punished him more for violating my sister. She’d only been fifteen, he seventeen, going on eighteen. Piece of shit.

“How is Arlene, by the way? Still a slut, or has she mended her ways?”

At the mention of Arlene, who was now happily married and pregnant with her first, I lost it. I reached forward and fisted his collar. “Don’t you dare say her name.”

“Who, Arlene?” Grayson taunted, dragging out each syllable. “My pretty doll, Arlie?”

I saw red and my knuckles connected with his cheek before I even had time to think. I could vaguely hear Winnie screaming for me to stop, but I couldn’t stop, and didn’t want to. Grayson had it coming. His smug face was begging to be disfigured. I stopped when my final blow ended with a sickening crunch. Blood gushed from Grayson’s nose, spewing like a fountain. Grayson pulled out his phone to call his cop buddies for backup.

“Assaulting a police officer…Fieri, you’re done, buddy,” Grayson said, his teeth stained pink. He smiled, like the Joker. “Done.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Winnie urged. “Don’t make things worse on yourself.”

“He’s a dirty cop with dirty cop friends,” I said. “If I leave, things will look even worse for me. Like I got scared and ran away. I need to stay, but you should take Nate and go. I’ll call you in a bit.”

“Are you sure?” Winnie asked. Her face was pale, and I hated that my actions made her worried.

I nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Winnie didn’t doubt me. She took Nate by the hand and grabbed my keys. As I watched them leave, I wondered if this was the last time I’d see them as a free man. Would this thoughtless assault land me in jail, or worse, prison? Could Grayson Bullock make that happen? Then another, far worse realization dawned on me. This had been Grayson’s plan all along. He didn’t care about blackmailing me with the photo. That would’ve gotten Winnie and I a slap on the wrist, at most. No, he wanted to rile me up so I’d punch him. He wanted physical proof and witnesses. He got both. His face was already bruising, and the front of his shirt was stained from his nosebleed. And his son, Jason, saw the whole thing. If that wasn’t bad enough, a couple bystanders had seen it too. They were whispering amongst themselves when a cruiser pulled up.

Fucking dickbag set me up.