Page 9 of King
“I wanted to make sure that the kids will be ready by noon, sharp.” He rarely bothered himself with pleasantries anymore, and I rolled my eyes before answering.
“I’m sure they will be. They both know that you’re picking them up for lunch, as usual. I’ll be sure to remind them, though.”
“Please do,” he said in that condescending tone he’d perfected in recent years. It had always made me want to throat punch him, even before our divorce. “I tried to call them, but neither answered.”
“I’m sure they’re both still asleep, Clayton. It’s only seven-forty-three on a Sunday morning, and Hunter had friends sleeping over. I doubt they’ll show their faces until nine, at the earliest.
He snorted derisively. “Well, be that as it may, make sure they are ready on time and dressed appropriately. We have reservations for twelve-thirty at the club.”
I rolled my eyes again. The kids absolutely hated going to the country club for these weekly lunches with their dad. Hunter, especially, was more of a burger and fries kind of kid and didn’t much care for the highbrow fare offered at the club.
Clayton ended the call without another word, another rude habit he’d formed since our divorce. Apparently, ex-wives weren’t worthy of basic common courtesy.
“Fucking pompous asshole,” I muttered to myself as I flopped back against the pillows. I allowed myself a few minutes to plot the various ways I could kill him and make it look like an accident. A woman could learn a lot from those true crime shows.
After reminding myself yet again that I would not look good in a shapeless prison jumpsuit, I threw back the covers and got out of bed. I tossed on a pair of my usual yoga pants and a T-shirt with a sports bra underneath, then headed downstairs to get a start on breakfast.
By the time I had a platter of bacon ready and was sprinkling powdered sugar over a huge tray of French toast,Mia, Hunter, and his friends had stumbled into the kitchen and settled in around the table.
“You’re the best, Mama C,” Andrew told me with a grin as short time later, as he wolfed down his third helping. He’d been best friends with Hunter since kindergarten and spent as much time at our house as he did his own.
“Yeah, Mom, you’re awesome,” Hunter mumbled around a mouth full of food. He took a big gulp of milk to wash it down, before reaching for more bacon. I shook my head, smiling at him fondly. I would never admit it, but I was grateful that his looks favored my side of the family. In fact, he looked a lot like my dad had as a teenager, in those old photo albums I had carefully stored in the closet. He hadn’t quite stopped growing yet and was already a little over six feet tall. He had broad shoulders and was quite muscular, thanks to his football conditioning workouts. I knew the girls went wild over his blue eyes and thick dark hair, which thankfully for him, didn’t have the same wavy texture that Mia and I had to battle every day.
“Thanks for the breakfast, ma’am,” Bryant told me quietly. He was the most reserved of Hunter’s friends. He was also completely oblivious to the burgeoning crush Mia had on him, for which I was eternally grateful. I’d had to ask Hunter to stop bringing a couple of his teammates around quite so often after I’d caught them staring at Mia with a little too much interest. Hunter had not only quit inviting them over, but he’d also threatened to beat their asses if they didn’t knock it off. I pretended not to know that he’d actually done just that with one of the guys two weeks ago. As a mother, I couldn’t officially condone violence. Unofficially, I’d made him his favorite meal that night as an unspoken thank you.
I eyed my daughter carefully, hiding my grin behind my coffee mug. She had taken the time to shower, style her hair, andput on makeup and a cute outfit when she normally graced the breakfast table in a T-shirt and sweats, with pillow creases on her face and her wavy hair sticking up in all directions.
“You’re welcome, guys. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
I left them to clean up the breakfast mess while I went outside for a quick yoga session, then headed upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. I took a little extra care with my own hair and makeup, then selected black leggings and a black and white-checked shirt that I knew flattered my figure.
It wasn’t that I wanted to attract Clayton’s attention at all – I shuddered at the thought – but it pissed him off to no end to see that I was flourishing without him. He’d been sure I’d come crawling back to him, miserable and begging for another chance. So, making sure I didn’t look tired and frumpy when I knew I would see him was my way of mentally flipping him off. The sour look on his face always did wonders for my mood.
Some people might consider that petty. Those people hadn’t had to walk into their bedroom to find their husband’s receptionist riding him like a cowgirl and moaning like a porn star. Clearly fake moans, at that. Clayton had never, ever, been that good in bed. He was much too selfish to be a good lover, as I’d found out with the handful of men I’d been with since the divorce. Clayton had been my first, and I’d been shocked at how good sex could actually be when I’d had my first post-divorce fling. It had been a revelation, for sure.
I put the finishing touches on my appearance, then went back downstairs to check on the kids and our houseguests. Hunter was just getting ready to leave to drive Andrew and Bryant home, after assuring me he would come right back so he could shower and get ready for lunch with his dad. Mia was perched on the end of the couch, hoping to be noticed by Bryantbefore they left. She deflated a bit when he merely gave her a half-hearted wave on his way out the door.
I pretended not to notice her disappointment – knowing it would only embarrass her – then reminded her that Clayton would be there at noon. She groaned, whining yet again about having to spend the day with her dad. They had never really been close, even when she was younger.
Clayton hadn’t known what to do with a daughter, and hadn’t been overly interested in figuring it out, either. He preferred to focus on Hunter, pushing him into karate lessons and various sports, while I kept Mia busy with dance classes and piano lessons in the hope that she wouldn’t notice her dad’s lack of interest in her. It mostly worked, but they were left with a lack of connection that had worried me and had led to countless arguments with Clayton over the years.
Hunter, on the other hand, had been close with his dad when he was little. As he’d hit his teenaged years, though, he’d picked up on his Clayton’s blatant favoritism and had rebelled against it. He and Mia sometimes fought like cats and dogs, but he adored his little sister and had always been incredibly protective of her. It didn’t sit well with him when he realized what Clayton had been doing, and he’d started to pull away from his dad.
Neither one of our kids had been overly surprised or upset when I’d filed for divorce three years ago. I’d gone out of my way to make sure they didn’t know the real reason, giving them a well-rehearsed speech filled with clichés about adults growing apart, and that just because we weren’t going to be married, we still cared about each other and were committed to raising them together, blah, blah, fucking blah.
It had been a complete load of bullshit, and Clayton had proved it when he’d introduced them to his new girlfriend – Sabrina, the slutty receptionist – just two short weeks after I’d kicked him out.
Hunter and Mia, then fourteen and twelve, respectively, had been disgusted by their dad’s actions, and whatever bond they’d had between them had been irrevocably broken. Now, they both barely tolerated Clayton, seeing him for a few hours every Sunday and overnight on Wednesdays just to keep the peace.
I busied myself in the kitchen while they got ready for their dad’s arrival, taking care to wrap a large chef’s apron around myself before I started my baking for the week, so that I didn’t end up covered in flour and spatters of dough. I decided to put aside some of the baked goods so Pop could pass them on to King along with my deepest apologies for threatening to filet his dick, since I was pretty sure Hallmark didn’t make a greeting card for that particular occasion.
