“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t want him this weekend?” I hiss at my cold, heartless ex-wife. “He needs his mother, Jennifer.”

She waves me off, dismissing the idea of spending time with our son. “Come on, Drew. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only one weekend. I mean, it’s not like this fashion show comes to town every day.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, pushing away the onset of a migraine, and let out a heavy, disgusted sigh. In the last few months, this is the fourth time she’s given me an excuse for her not wanting to be with Dawson. He’s a great kid, and he doesn’t give anyone a hard time. It fucking kills me that his own mother tosses him around like he doesn't mean anything and would rather do whatever the fuck she pleases.

“Just tell him I’ll come by on Sunday and take him out for ice cream or whatever. Drew, you’re better at this than I am,” she whines as she presses her hand against my chest.

I push it away and narrow my eyes at her. “Because you’ve never tried, Jennifer. He’s not a fucking accessory you toss away because it’s a new season. You’re his mother, for fuck’s sake. Do you want me to gain full custody?”

She whips her head in my direction, her eyes tight with malice and anger. “Don’t threaten me, Drew. I will bury you.”

“Do you honestly think a judge would grant you full custody? I will take this to court, Jennifer.”

“Dad? Mommy?”

We both turn around to see Dawson standing in the hallway, looking at us with perplexity and confusion.

“Mommy, I have my bag packed like Dad wanted me to do. I brought my new pajamas and slippers, so we can have movie night in our jammies. Are you ready to go?”

The innocence of his question fucking breaks me. He has barely spent any time with Jennifer since the divorce was finalized two years ago. Even when we were married, she’d make excuses and leave the house until he was in bed.

I don’t know what the fuck I thought when I asked her to marry me. I was blindly in love and thought we were good together. Before we got married, we were together for two years, and things were almost damn near perfect. When I was brought on as CFO at my family’s company with my cousin, Remy, Jennifer stood by my side through the long hours and travel.

The day we found out she was pregnant, I was excited for this new chapter of our lives. We had been married for less than a year when we found out the news. After Dawson turned two months, Jennifer did a one-eighty, and I thought it was partly because of postpartum depression. She didn’t want anything to do with Dawson and refused to breast-feed him. That bonding time most women experience with an infant was nonexistent between Jennifer and Dawson. It was heartbreaking really and not what I had expected our lives to be. I encouraged her to speak to her doctor and a therapist in hopes that they could help, and she did, but that didn’t last.

I hired the best personal trainer when she begged me for one. She became obsessed with working out and getting her body back. It didn’t matter when I told her she was beautiful and sexy. Our sex life was near nonexistent between my long hours in the office and her insecurities. Whenever I touched her, she would cry and pushed me away. I cherished my wife and gave her the world. I cherished our son and made sure he was happy and healthy. My life was good, and I couldn’t have asked for more. I thought whatever Jennifer was going through would subside.

After his third birthday, my eyes were opened, and I realized the woman I’d thought I loved and wanted to spend my life with wasn’t that woman at all. The real Jennifer came out, and I knew then that the woman I’d planned to grow old with was gone, and in her place was a coldhearted, selfish version I found I no longer loved with the depth I once had.

Throughout the first three years of his life, she was hardly around, and when she was, it was for show. Her image was the world to her. Anything that might tarnish her name, she would immediately fix.

When the divorce was announced, the tabloids went crazy, and everyone wanted interviews with us. Being the CFO to a multibillion-dollar corporation and marrying the daughter of country star, Jason Bryant, always put us in the eyes of the paparazzi.

“Dawson, baby, Mommy has something very important to do tonight and tomorrow, so on Sunday, I’ll come over and take you out for ice cream. Does that sound fun?” she says, kneeling in front of him and barely holding his hand.

I hear his broken sigh, and when he looks to me for help, I walk over to my innocent son, bend down to his level, and tell him we'll have fun this weekend. I lift him in my arms, and he rests his head on my shoulder.

Jennifer lets out an exasperated sigh, squeezes Dawson’s hand, and then pats him on the head like a fucking puppy. “Mommy has to go, so have fun with your dad.”

“Okay. Bye, Mommy.”

“Kisses!”

As soon as she walks out of my apartment, I bring Dawson to the kitchen, so we can make dinner and get ready for a Friday night in. I have to think of something to do with him to distract him from this situation.

“I was thinking that tomorrow, we could—”

“Am I a bad kid?” he asks.

My stomach tenses, and I momentarily find it hard to breathe.

“Did I do something wrong to make Mommy hate me?”

Quickly, I put down the dishes, carry Dawson to the counter, and set him down, so we’re eye-to-eye.

“Buddy, you didn’t do anything. You’re an amazing kid, the best. Your mom has a busy life, and she loves you. You’ll always have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“You never have to thank me. It’s you and me against the world, and we’re always a team. You’re my best friend, little man.”

His frown shifts to a smile.

Even though, on the inside, my heart is still breaking over the things Jennifer continues to miss, I’m thankful, too. I will always cherish the bond my son and I share. It keeps me focused and afloat. Dawson is and will always be my number one.

I tell Dawson to watch TV for a little while, so I can get work done. Between work and Dawson, I don’t do much of anything else.

This weekend, I was supposed to head to Las Vegas for Remy’s thirty-second birthday. It would’ve been the first time since Dawson was born that I had a chance to do something other than work or spend time with him.

Pulling out my phone, I send Remy a text to let him know what’s going on.

Remy: Tell me you’re fucking kidding.

Me: I’m sorry, man. Don’t worry. The hotel suite’s under my name and credit card. It’s been paid for. I’ll call the Bellagio and have them change the reservation to your name. They won’t give you guys any problems.

Remy: I don’t give a shit about that. Dude, why the fuck do you let your bitch ex-wife do this shit?

Me: What am I supposed to do? I’m all Dawson has.

Remy: Shit, I know. Fucking sucks. Wish things were different. You should consider hiring a nanny.

Me: I don’t need one. I’ve never needed one. Not going to start now.

Remy: Maybe your parents can watch him.

Me: Not asking. Sorry, man, but if I leave Dawson this weekend, he might feel like I abandoned him.

Remy: I get it. Have fun with the little man. We’ll talk Tuesday when I go into the office. Have a good weekend, man. We’ll miss you.

Me: Don’t have too much fun.

Remy: I got ass and drinks on my mind. You already know I’m fucking shit up.

Me: Ha-ha. Have fun. See you Tuesday.

I put away my phone. I won’t lie. I’m disappointed I won’t be joining Remy and our friends in Vegas this weekend.

I sigh and walk over to the bar to pour a glass of scotch. I take the first sip and let the burn of the amber liquid run down my throat. Then, I pour myself another glass and bring it to my desk. I log in to the computer to make sure everything in the company is fine and that there’s nothing that needs my immediate attention.

* * *

“One more time,” Dawson says as he looks up at me with those innocent blue eyes of his. “Please.” He has the look down to a T. The look that, no matter how hard I try to resist it, I can’t.

“Once more,” I say, attempting to give him a stern look.

And, when he wrinkles up his nose and smiles back at me, I know I’m not winning this battle tonight. He knows he has me wrapped around his finger.

Maybe I should be more authoritative, but it’s so hard to tell him no when he’s disappointed enough by his mother. I can’t take that sad look in his eyes or the way he shies away and shrinks back, as if he’s trying to hide within himself. Frankly, it pisses me off each time I witness it. I want him to be strong and confident, carrying the ability to shrug off his mother’s lack of parental genes.

We’ve been at Funland for close to two hours now. We’ve eaten enough pizza and consumed enough sugar to supply a small village, but the smile he wears makes it all worth it. I know I’ll pay for it later, and I’ll be forced to push through a grueling extra hour of my workout to recover from it all, but Dawson’s happiness always has me doing things without a second thought.

I stand off to the side and watch as he climbs up the rope ladder for what feels like the hundredth time. A smile stretches my lips as he looks back over his shoulder and flashes me that Powers grin. A grin that I know from experience will one day make the ladies melt. I’ll teach him how to use that grin to get ahead, but that’s something way off in the future.

Women, though alluring and sexy with a way of making a man feel powerful, are also trouble. I’ll teach him to watch out for blonde-haired beauties with the perfect smiles and legs that go on for miles. They’re evil wrapped in a pretty fucking package.

At one time, Jennifer was the woman I thought I’d have by my side always, but that changed quickly. She’s the most selfish person I’ve ever met.

But, out of all the hell she’s put me through, I’ve been given the best gift of all—Dawson. And it's because of him I need to be strong.