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Raf grimaced, and it was like watching my own expression on someone else’s face.  “He’s not wrong.  Every time Dad calls either of us, the first thing he asks is if you’re seeing anybody.  I honestly think he’s more interested in learning about that than he is in actually talking to us.”
I found it encouraging that either of them even took his calls, and I told him so, “At least you’re speaking to him.  That’s something.”
He gave me a look, a seriously, Mom? look.  “I only answer his calls to reiterate to him that he better not be bothering you.”
“Oh.”
“And if that’s why I’m picking up the phone, you can just imagine what Gus has to say to him.”
Nothing good, I knew.
“It’s not your burden, worrying about what we think of our father, but yeah, I think he’d freak if he knew you were seeing somebody.”
“And somebody like Heath.”
He sighed.  “Yeah.  The age thing . . . and Heath himself.  He wouldn’t react well to any of it, but you can bet he won’t hear it from either of us.”
I hugged him, kissed his cheek, and said good night.
Heath was waiting for me, right at the front door, when I came back in.
“It went okay, right?” he asked.  He said it like he was worried and that made my heart soften for him all the more.  He might be rough around the edges, but I was starting to feel some genuine affection for those edges.
“I think it went brilliantly,” I reassured him.
“I learned something important tonight,” Heath said.
“That my boys are overprotective?”
“That’s true, but not what I was talking about.  They’re attached to you, and who can blame them?”
I swear I was blushing.  I wasn’t even sure why that one got to me. Likely it was the look on his face, and the affection in his normally affection-less voice.
“Flowers,” Heath continued.  “I need to bring flowers when I come to see you.”
“You don’t have to.  They learned that from my father who dotes on me to a ridiculous degree.”
“Not ridiculous.  You should be doted on.  By all of us.  He sounds like a wise man.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure you two would like each other.”
“We’ll see.  I’m hard to get used to, but I promise to be on my best behavior if I ever do meet him.”
That sounded promising, and I didn’t press the issue about him meeting my father or a future for us in general.  Everything was moving fast enough as it was.
Heath had been a perfect gentleman for the duration of my sons’ visit.
He was sure to balance that out, however, by promptly tying me facedown to my bed and pulling my hair while he fucked my brains out.
It was a balance that I thought I could get used to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I woke up the next morning to another rather alarming development.
It was becoming a pattern.
A commotion in my house.
What the hell was it today?
Someone was at my front door.  Someone loud.  They were yelling.
Ah hell.
I knew that yell.
Fuck.
What the ever-loving fuck?  Could I not get a break?
And what the hell was he doing at my house?
Once again I came out of my bedroom in only a thin robe having not a clue what to do with the sight in front of me.
The first thing I took in was an agitated Heath at my open front door wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a scowl.
And just outside, looking harried, outraged, like he was trying, and had tried, to charge into the house, was my ex-husband.
Eduard had always been a handsome man, and still was—dark eyes and black curly hair that set off his olive skin.  He was tall and lean, but next to the bulky mountain that was Heath, he suddenly looked thin to me.  Skinny.  Had he lost weight, or was it just that the comparison left him lacking?  I really didn’t know.
Eduard saw me and stilled.  “What the fuck is this, Lourdes?” he called out, sounding outraged, like he’d caught me at something.
He’d always had a nerve.  When we’d been young I’d called it pluck and found it charming.
That was a very long time ago.
I almost laughed.
Instead I shook my head at him.  “What in the world are you doing here, Eduard?”
“What’s he doing here?” he shot back as though he had some right to question who should be at my house.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated.
“He spent the night?” Eduard cried out like he was honestly shocked.
“What gave it away?” Heath asked him dryly.
“What do you want, Eduard?” I asked him.  “This is not a good time.  If you have something to say to me, you need to call, not just show up at my house.”
“I can’t believe you!  How long has this been going on?”
It was strange.  The divorce had had opposite effects on us.  The longer we were apart, the more indifferent I became to him and the more bitter he grew toward me.
It was a refreshing change from our marriage where I’d cared too much and he too little.
I looked at Heath, who was calm as could be, just watching me while he kept my ex easily out of the house.  “Just shut the door on him,” I told him.  “If he has something important to tell me, he can call and leave a message that I may or may not listen to.”