Page 23

Marty

“You don’t get to talk to me that way anymore,” I say, beginning to lose both my temper and my patience. “You also don’t live here anymore, so do not let yourself into the house again. Do you understand me?”

“Oh, look who’s a tough guy now,” she snorts, shaking her head. “Suddenly you’re all badass because you’re fucking some psycho supermodel? I’m going to call my lawyer. I do not want that woman around my kids. Do you know what they say about her in the tabloids?”

“Do you know what they said about you when you fucked my teammate?” I shoot back.

That shuts her up for a few seconds.

“That was different.” Her cheeks are a little red. “Our marriage fell apart. I was lonely.”

“That’s still your excuse for cheating, huh?” I shake my head. “I want you to leave, Brenna.”

“They’re my kids too!” she snaps.

“And in five days you’ll have them back. But today, we’re going to the water park and you’re going to brunch.” I’m still holding Bradley, bouncing him gently now that he’s calmed down and is starting to fall asleep, but my blood pressure is probably sky high.

“You don’t get to replace me,” she says. “Especially not with her.”

“She’s a better woman than you’ll ever be,” I say easily. “Now leave. Please. Before you upset the kids even more.”

“I need to say goodbye,” she growls through clenched teeth.

“No, you don’t. You’ve already made all three of them cry. I think that’s enough parenting for one day.”

She lifts a hand, like she’s going to slap me, but catches herself.

I arch a brow, cocking my head slightly. “And you just called Stevie psycho?”

She lets out a huff. “Are you really that blind? Enamored by how pretty she is? She’s mentally unstable, Marty. This isn’t about normal stuff like cheating or whatever, it’s about the safety of our kids.”

Leave it to Brenna to call cheating normal.

“She’s a much better person than you are and they’re absolutely fine with her.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not a chance.”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” She grabs her purse and stomps out, slamming the door behind her.

Christ.

I let out a slow breath, trying to regain my composure before Stevie comes back down with the kids. I warned her about this, and she seemed fine, but I’m worried. About her, about the kids, and even a little bit about myself. Brenna and I were much more civil when I flew to Tennessee to pick the kids up.

Today was totally different.

And I’m a thousand percent sure it’s because of Stevie.

Brenna doesn’t want me, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have me either, which is ridiculous. Legally, I’m covered and can do whatever I want. But if she wants to make trouble when it comes to the custody case, she might have a leg to stand on. I don’t follow anything in the press, barely have a social media presence, so I honestly don’t know what’s been said about Stevie.

I guess I’m going to have to find out.

“Everything okay?” Stevie asks as she comes into the kitchen.

“No, but I’ll tell you later.” I turn to Emma, who’s proudly showing off her hairdo, which is two braids, one on each side.

“Look, Daddy, Auntie Stevie braided my hair!” Her eyes are shining happily, something I rarely see when she’s with Brenna.

“It’s beautiful, honey. And thank you.” I lean over and kiss Stevie’s cheek. “Sorry about…all of this.”

She shakes her head. “You warned me. I’m fine.”

“Did Mommy leave?” Martin looks around in confusion.

“She had plans,” Marty says quickly. “But we’re going to the water park! Go get your floaties!”

Martin takes off, forgetting all about his mother and we exchange glances.

I may have underestimated the lengths Brenna will go to just to make me miserable.

The last thing Stevie needs is to get caught in the crossfire, especially after everything she’s already gone through and Damien’s upcoming trial.

There’s no doubt in my mind Brenna is going to do something to make trouble for me—specifically for Stevie and me.

And I have no idea how the hell am I going to protect her.

* * *

After a long day at the water park, we get the kids bathed, read them a story, and they’re out like a light before eight. Stevie and I are tired too, and we immediately head to bed. Her nighttime skincare regimen takes a while, so I lounge out on the bed and decide to do a quick search on Stevie and see what there is to see.

At first, there are mostly basic articles talking about her modest upbringing in a suburb of Philadelphia called Ardmore. There are some gorgeous pictures of her as a teenager, around sixteen or so, on the covers of magazines and I can’t help but smile at how innocent she looked at that age.

Then I add Damien’s name to the search and that’s when things take a turn.

Stevie Marchand On Her Way to the Altar—Again.

A Look at the Highs and Lows of a Supermodel: Stevie Marchand.

Stevie Marchand Models Bad Behavior.

I click on that one and it’s a little unsettling to see the things that have been said about her. They describe a scene in a nightclub where Stevie absolutely loses her shit, screaming and throwing things, causing thousands of dollars of damage. The article talks about her having a fight with her then-fiancé, someone who isn’t Damien.

A perfunctory search tells me that she’s been engaged three times, which is something I didn’t know. The first guy married her sister and the second left her at the altar.

Damn.

I hate that this stuff is out there, and worst of all, the press makes it sound like everything was her fault. The nightclub debacle was apparently the night she found out about her fiancé sleeping with her sister. How do the tabloids write about that and then vilify Stevie instead of the two people who did something wrong?

I close the app in disgust, shaking my head.

“What’s wrong?” Stevie asks, coming out of the bathroom.

“Nothing.” I hold out my arms, and she slides beneath the sheets, curling into my embrace. That seems to be her favorite place and it’s rapidly becoming mine.

“You smell good,” she whispers.

“You do too.” I stroke my hand down her back, hating what she’s been through. I want to protect her from anything else that might hurt her, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep her out of my custody battle. Assuming Brenna doesn’t force the issue.

Short-term, I don’t want Stevie to worry. There’s no point. If and when Brenna brings attorneys into it, then I may have to, but for now I just want to enjoy her. In a few days, the kids will be gone, and even though I’m going to miss them, I’m looking forward to having a little time to focus on Stevie. Hockey season is right around the corner, so this is our chance to see if we have a future.

“You’re quiet,” she says, lifting her head.

I like that she can read me so well, but I truly don’t want to worry her.

“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s always rough when I have a run-in with Brenna. But tomorrow I’m changing the locks.”

“Is she taking anything else from the house?” she asks.

“She already took most of the cookware, some of the fancy crystal and china we had, and her car. All of that stuff is already worked out. The only things left are custody and then the house, but we can’t decide on the house stuff until we finalize custody. I’m going to keep the house if I get the kids, and my lawyer will be offering three years of alimony if that’s the case. If not, then I’m going to sell the house and give her half of the equity, which isn’t a lot since she wanted a lot more house than we could afford when we first bought it.”

“Then there’s no reason for her to have a key, right?”

I chuckle. “That’s why I’m calling a locksmith as soon as possible.”

“Good.”

“The next couple of months could be hectic,” I admit. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with the custody battle.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll be here for you,” she whispers.

“I appreciate that, baby.”

“It was kind of crazy getting home and finding her here.”

Home.

She just called my house home .

Like she belongs here. With me. With us.

I really like that.

I really like her .

Hell, I think I more than like her. I’m starting to fall, and even though I promised myself I’d take my time before I got serious with anyone again, it’s already too late. She’s literally the girl of my dreams, and I refuse to let Brenna make me doubt her—or myself.

I’ve worked too hard and come too far to let her pull me back into the chaos that was our marriage and the early days of our separation. She’s moved on, so there’s absolutely no reason why I can’t. If she’s jealous, that’s her problem. She made her bed and now she’s lying in it.

It no longer has anything to do with me.

If she wants to make this a fight—beyond the custody issues—I’m fully prepared.

She’s the one who cheated, so I refuse to let her get away with anything else. The only reason I’m even entertaining three years of alimony is so that I can get custody of my kids. Beyond that, I don’t give a fuck about her, her life, or anything else. Money is just money, I can make more. My kids are my priority.

And now Stevie.

I plan to be a better man this time around, whether it’s as a boyfriend, husband, or something in between. Stevie deserves better.

She deserves everything.

And I want to give it to her.