I stand in Jules’ bedroom with her and watch as she stomps back and forth across the carpet. Her hands are balled into fists and her cheeks are bright red with fury.
“That son of a bitch can’t have them,” she yells at me, her arms waving wildly to punctuate her resolve.
“Jules,” I say in a lowered voice. “You need to calm down. The kids can hear you.”
She looks chastised and takes three paces to get in my face. She whispers harshly, “He can’t do it. That fucking asshole has no right. He can’t just waltz back into their lives now that they’re settled.”
“Honey…” I try to placate.
She just hisses at me. “That fucker wants those kids so he doesn’t have to pay child support again, and do you think he’s going to spend the money on them that they deserve—hell, that they fucking need to survive—if he can’t even be bothered to pay a fraction of what they cost in child support?”
Tears gather in her eyes and she starts shaking. I pull her into me, wrap my arms hard around her as I tell her, “It will be fine. I’ve got your back. He’s not going to do anything.”
She pulls her face back and looks at me, one tear slipping out, and it guts me. “I can’t lose them, Max. They’re all I have left of Melody. They are Melody. I can’t do it.”
She lets a sob out and presses her face into my chest. I hold her there for a minute, and because Jules is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, she only submits to her anger and grief for a few moments before she swallows it down and pulls away from me. She rubs her finger under her eyes to wipe away the remaining tears and her voice quavers, “I’m fine.”
“You are not,” I mutter and I reach into her back pocket to pull out the phone I know she keeps there. I thrust it into her hands. “Call Tina. Ask if she can watch the kids for an hour. I’m going to take you out to dinner, ply you with a few glasses of wine to relax, and then I’m coming back here with you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“What?” she says, trying to push the phone back at me. “No. I don’t need you to handle me, Max.”
“Yes you fucking do, Jules,” I growl at her, refusing to take the phone. “So let me do it. Call Tina. Now.”
I think she might argue but then she just nods at me silently and calls Tina, who fortunately was home. Jules briefly told her about Dwayne’s visit and that she needed about an hour to cool down. Tina gladly agreed and within five minutes she and her son Marshall arrived and I was ushering Jules out the door.
I take her just about two miles from her apartment complex to a cozy Irish pub that I had spied one evening after I left Jules’ apartment and before I hit the I-440 Beltline. It’s packed because it’s Saturday night but we’re able to get a booth in the bar after only about a ten minute wait, and I think it’s possibly because I was recognized by the hostess.
Whatever. I’ll gladly take that so I can get Jules settled down.
A waitress comes quickly and there’s no doubt that I’ve been recognized because she stares at me with wide eyes, gets flustered as she takes our drink orders, and calls me “sir” about twenty times too many.
Once she leaves, I hold my hand across the table, palm up, and Jules without any further prompting puts her hand in mine.
I curl my fingers around hers and squeeze gently. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“That the court will give Dwayne the kids,” she answers immediately and with no thought.
“What would he have to do for that to happen?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Hire a lawyer. File something, I guess. Get it before a judge.”
“And what does he do for a living?”
“He’s a mechanic,” she says, her eyebrows knit together. “It’s what he did in the Army, but he never holds a job long. He’s always off chasing the next piece of tail and he has no qualms with women supporting him.”
“What a loser,” I mutter then squeeze her hand again. “Listen…for him to fight for the kids will take money, and he clearly doesn’t have it. He can’t even pay child support.”
“But maybe that woman he’s with will front him the money,” she throws out.
“Um…excuse me, Mr. Fournier,” I hear from my right, and my head turns slowly to see a boy of about thirteen sitting there with a pad of paper. A man—I’m guessing his father—stands behind him with his hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but do you think I could get your autograph?”
Inside I’m screaming, No. Fuck off, kid. Can’t you see my woman is having a meltdown?
But there’s no way I could ever do that to a fan, much less a nervous-looking kid with stars in his eyes.
“Sure thing, buddy,” I say as I release Jules’ hand and reach out for the paper and pen. “What’s your name?”
“Andy,” he says.
I start to scribble a personalized autograph as I ask, “You play hockey?”
“Yes, sir,” he says. “Goalie.”
“Awesome,” I say as I sign my name and hand the paper and pen back to him.
“Um…could I get a picture with you?” he mumbles, and while I don’t feel it, I manage to give him a big smile.
“Sure,” I say as I slide from the booth.
His dad whips out a camera and snaps a few pictures as I drape my arm over the kid’s shoulders. I know this now has everyone in the bar area watching us, and if others hadn’t recognized me before, it will spread through here like wildfire. I also know that this will start a wave of people approaching me and I’m thinking this was a bad idea.
After the kid leaves I start to slide back into the booth just as the waitress returns with our drinks. She places Jules’ wine in front of her and then slides my Smithwick’s onto my side of the table as she murmurs, “Um…your beer is from a few fans up at the bar.”
I turn my head as the waitress walks off and look to the bar, trying to suppress a groan when I see three women there, all turned to look at me. They’re dressed super slutty and clearly out for a wild evening. I give them a nod in acknowledgment, and because I can feel the weight of Jules’ stare on me, I turn to face her.
Her face is impassive and I have no clue what she’s thinking. This is really the first time we’ve been out in public—excluding Houlihan’s, of course, but I’m not counting that as a true outing. That’s different, with its long-standing fans, as a place to celebrate our wins. We go there knowing we’ll be recognized and knowing it’s to interact with the fans.
But tonight I do not want to be fucking recognized. I want to put Jules’ mind at ease.
With a grunt, I push back out of the booth, round the table, and start to slide in next to Jules. She immediately slides over to give me room.
Turning to face her, I drape an arm over the back cushion and give the rest of the world my back so she knows all I see is her.
“Jules…I highly doubt some random piece of ass that Dwayne has hooked up with is going to front him money for an attorney so he can take on the expense and burden of three kids.”
“They’re not burdens,” she mutters.
I roll my eyes. “I know that and you know that, but he doesn’t know that. He sees them as burdens or else he’d have been there for them. He’d have paid his fucking child support. Now, do I think that man wants something? Fuck yeah, and I’m going to guess it’s money.”
She blinks at me. “Money?”
“Yeah,” I tell her softly. “Think about it. He shows up and gets you all wigged out about taking the kids. Makes a remark at the end about me rolling in dough.”
“But he didn’t know that you were seeing me when he came,” she points out.
“Agreed. So I’m thinking he was going to roll you for a little money but once he recognized my name when I introduced myself, I think his plans got bigger.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jules hisses and her eyes fire up with fury. “That asshole.”
“Agreed, baby,” I tell her, dropping my arm from the cushion to come down around her shoulders. I pull her in for a quick squeeze. “But you and I both know he’s going nowhere with that. So I need you to stop worrying about him and to put your worries toward the things that matter…namely those little minions.”
That gets her and she finally gives me a smile. She takes a deep breath, lets it out and murmurs, “I’m sorry he made me so crazy. Thank you for getting me calmed down and making me see things in a different perspective.”
“You’re welcome,” I say and then lean in to graze my lips against hers.
When I pull back, she gives me a tiny shove against my chest. “Okay, buddy…how about go back on your side of the table so I don’t get a crick in my neck from trying to look at you sideways.”
I chuckle and lean in, grab another quick kiss and then push back along the booth. When I stand up, my foot steps on something and I realize it’s someone else’s foot.
“Oh, shit,” I say as I spin around. “I’m sorry.”
Standing there are the three women who sent me a beer, which I now realize Jules never even said a word about. I wonder what she’s thinking now.
“Could we get a picture with you, Max?” one of the women says breathlessly as she pushes her chest outward.
“Um…I’m kind of on a date,” I mutter and take a step back toward the seat I’d just vacated.
“Please,” one of the other women says, and I can’t tell her apart from the one that just asked me for the picture. They all look the same. Long hair, tiny dresses, big boobs that look fake, and a lot of makeup. “We’re such big fans and you took pictures with that little boy a minute ago.”
I don’t dare turn around and look at Jules, not because I’m afraid she’ll be mad but mostly afraid she’ll laugh at me.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh, and the women all giggle while they swarm me as a waitress gladly steps up to take the phones from the women so she can get pictures for all of them. Their arms go around my waist and I’m assaulted with heavy perfume, and even though I try not to look, standing above them by almost a foot I can’t help but see all three of their cleavages. I paste on a smile and keep it there while the waitress snaps photos.
Finally, she finishes and I start to pull away from the women and turn my attention back to the only woman who gets my motor running, when I feel a hand slip into my back pocket. It’s quick, there and gone, and then the women are walking off with backward waves at me and continual giggling.
I reach into my back pocket as I turn to face Jules and pull out a piece of paper. It has a name—Maevery—as well as a phone number.
“Did that woman…” Jules says, and my gaze slides from the paper to her. “Did that woman just put her phone number in your pocket?”
“Appears so,” I mumble as I hand it to her and then flop down in my original seat.
Jules’ lips are pressed flat as she grabs the paper, eyeballs it for only a moment, and crumples it in her hand. “She just…she just propositioned you while you were on a date.”
I just stare at her, waiting for her to blow.
“A date with me,” she reiterates.
I nod. “Yeah…sorry about that.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” she grits out, and I’m torn between loving this flash of jealousy from Jules and hating the fact she’s upset when she really has had enough upset today.
I tell her the truth. “Not often, but it does happen.”
She tilts her head. “And what do you do then?”
I nod down to the paper crumpled in her hand. “I do what you just did. I’m not into random hookups, Jules.”
She narrows her eyes at me so I quickly amend, “I haven’t been into random hookups in a very long time.”
This she should know because I told her truthfully about my bit of a wild period after I broke up with Christine.
Jules gives a heavy sigh and tosses the paper aside. Her eyes are slightly sad but also resolved. “I guess this is the first time I’ve gotten a glimpse at the ugly side of your fame. It’s a bit disconcerting.”
“Like I said,” I tell her as I reach my hand back across the table, palm up. She doesn’t hesitate and puts her hand in mine, where it belongs. “That shit doesn’t happen often. It’s mostly younger kids who want the autographs and pictures.”
“That was kind of cute,” she says as her eyes crinkle with amusement.
“It doesn’t matter though,” I tell her. “I’ve only got one woman on my mind and that’s you.”
“Well, that’s good,” she says with a sweet smile. “Because I’ve only got one man on my mind and that’s you.”
“Which is a good transition for me to ask you for a favor,” I tell her as I lean across the table. She sits up a little straighter, her look welcoming and eager to give me something.
She wants to give me something.
She wants to make me happy and she’s excited to do so.
“I’ve got three things to ask you for, actually,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says, eyes still shining. “Lay it on me.”
“First, Thanksgiving is right around the corner and it’s not something I traditionally celebrate because, hello…Canadian here. But we have a few days off and I was thinking of maybe having a dinner over at my house. Would you be willing to help me?”
“Of course,” she says excitedly. “That would be awesome. But I think my dad’s going to try to get in for a visit. Is that cool?”
“Totally,” I say, and then as an afterthought, “Maybe I should invite my parents for a visit?”
“Oh my God,” she says with a laugh. “Are we meeting each other’s parents?”
“I guess we are,” I tell her with a grin.
“Okay,” she says with a nod. “That’s one thing. What else do you want?”
“You know I’m flying back on Tuesday afternoon from our game in Pittsburgh, and Sports World magazine wants to do my photo shoot that evening. Do you think you could maybe give up painting one night, get a sitter and come with me? I hate that shit and would really like you to be there…you know…to make me feel not so fucking stupid.”
Jules’ eyes warm and her lower lip purses out in sympathy. “Of course I will. I’ll hold your hand and everything.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief because while I really don’t need Jules there, it would make it at least bearable and I’d get some extra time with her that week.
“And the third?” she prompts.
“This coming weekend we have back-to-back games in Boston,” I tell her hesitantly. “I’d really like you to come with me.”
“You want me to come to Boston with you?” she asks, her brows furrowed. “With the kids?”
I give a shake of my head. “No. I want you to myself. I’ve already asked Kate and she said she’d be glad to have them for the weekend.”
“I can’t,” Jules blurts out without giving my request any thought. This I understand, as she’s operating from an overly protective place as well as a place of insecurity in her role as a mom and determining what is appropriate.
I have to let her work this out, but I’m going to make her work it out. “Why not? What’s holding you back?”
“I just can’t leave the kids for two days,” she says firmly.
“Technically it will be three days,” I tell her, but before I can let that deter her further, I say, “And who says you can’t? Where does it say that mothers can’t have time away from their kids?”
“Well,” she stammers, “it’s just…they’re just getting settled in with me—”
“Five and half months,” I tell her bluntly. “They’re settled.”
“I don’t want to keep pawning the kids off on Kate,” she murmurs, and I sense we’re getting closer to the heart of the issue.
“Kate has watched the kids twice for you,” I point out. “So you and I could go out. And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve taken Ben one night for a slumber party so she and Zack could have some alone time.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No ‘buts,’ Jules,” I say firmly, and I squeeze her hand a little harder. I lean across the table and lower my voice so she knows I’m serious. “You are an incredibly hardworking woman and you are devoted to those kids. You kill yourself to give them what they need. But…I need you too and we don’t have a lot of time together as it is. I’m asking you…please…come away with me for a few days and give me some time, okay?”
Jules’ face immediately crumples before me. Her brow furrows and her lips flatten for a moment in disgust.
“I am so fucking sorry,” she says in a small voice. “I wasn’t thinking. Fuck…of course we need some time to ourselves, and God…I’m so sorry. You’re always the one that takes the backseat to everything.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her quickly as I see the sheen of tears forming in her eyes.
“No,” she says in a ragged breath as she jerks her hand away from mine, only to fling herself out of her side of the booth and onto mine. Her arms fly around my neck and she pushes her face against mine, cheek to cheek, as she whispers, “God, Max…I’m so sorry. So selfish. Yes, I will go with you. If you still want me to.”
I press my palm to the back of her head, hold her there for a minute before I gently push her away. Her eyes are swimming with apology.
“I’m so damn sorry—” she starts to say but I put my mouth right on hers and make better use of it.
I kiss her hard and fiercely, leaving her breathless and without words when I pull away. I use it as an opportunity to set her straight. “I don’t take a backseat to everything, Jules. You’re the one that does that. This trip will be as much for you as it is for me, okay?”
She nods at me, smiling, her eyes still looking like they might be on the verge of filling with tears. I want to tell her I love her and that I will do whatever I can to make this work with us, but it’s not the time. That time has to be special.
So I tell her the next best thing. “I adore you, Jules. And I know I’ll adore you even more tomorrow, and even more the day after that.”
And the tears fall.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I pull her back to my chest.
She gives a tiny laugh and mumbles. “I adore you too, Max. More and more each day.”
And that is enough for now.