“I should have never said that. At the time, I thought it was just a one-time thing. I thought he had just fucked up and it was never going to happen again. I knew it would kill you if you found out. And I didn’t know you already had,” he says.
He could be telling the truth. A part of me thinks it’s kind of nice, albeit misguided, that he wanted to do what he could to save me from being hurt. But a bigger part of me has a hard time believing anything he says. The name of our business isn’t Fool Me Once just for shits and giggles. I’ve lost my faith in mankind. Well, I’ve lost my faith in man, kind or not. Period.
“I haven’t spoken to him at all since I found out the truth. I told him he was a lying sack of shit and a pathetic excuse for a man for doing that to you and the girls. He’s tried calling me a bunch of times since then and I’ve ignored him. You know that you, Meadow, and Livia have always been my top priority.”
At least that part isn’t a lie; he’s always made sure the girls and I are taken care of. Even with my giving him the cold shoulder and refusing to have anything to do with him the last six months, he’s still called to talk to the girls and sent them gifts. And I know for a fact he’s the one who hired a landscaper to mow my lawn every week, even though I know he won’t admit it.
I always used to ask him why he never settled down and got married since I was sure he’d make an amazing husband and father. He would just shake his head and laugh and tell me that he’d get married when his dream girl became available. Then Alex would always pipe in about Griffin’s celebrity crush—Megan Fox—and make a joke about her being too good for him.
“Well, the pathetic excuse for a man you speak of has gotten worse. He hasn’t seen his daughters in two months. He was supposed to pick them up for dinner tonight and cancelled at the last minute. I’m sure Chloe with an e had episodes of Sesame Street she needed to watch or something.” I try to make light of the situation. I can’t take the heavy stuff right now. I can’t handle thinking about how much I’ve missed having Griffin in my life.
“Chloe with an e? Am I missing something? Is there some other way you spell Chloe?” he asks with a laugh.
“He actually brought her to Uncle Wally and Aunt Janet’s anniversary party a few months ago. He assumed that since he got an invitation before he cheated on me, he’d still be welcome. They stayed long enough for her to introduce herself. ‘Like, hi everyone! I’m Chloe, with an e!’” I say in a singsong, squeaky voice. “Bobby and Ted dragged Alex outside and told him they would use him for target practice if he ever showed his face at one of our family get-togethers again with that whore.”
Even though I wanted to puke when they walked into the restaurant together hand in hand, the night was made all better by watching Alex sob like a baby out in the parking lot. Real tears and everything. It was beautiful. If only he would have wet himself, I could have died a happy woman. Maybe next time.
“He’s an asshole,” Griffin growled.
“Yes, yes he is. Unfortunately though, there’s nothing I can do about his assholishness. He’s going to continue to let the girls down and all I can do is sit back and pick up the pieces,” I tell him with a sigh. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. All I want to think about right now is catching McFadden because he’s really pissing me off. Thank you for saving my ass when he tried shooting at me. I appreciate it. But I work alone.”
It’s one thing to go easy on the guy so that he can still be in Meadow’s and Livia’s lives, it’s a whole other thing to work side by side with him and try not to think about banging him. Or if he has birthmarks in any special places. Or tattoos that can only be seen with his pants off.
“I figured you’d say that. Which is why I came here tonight with a proposition for you,” Griffin tells me, one side of his mouth tipping up into his signature grin.
I’m always a sucker for this man’s smile and will agree to anything when he aims it in my direction. I should know by now just to run away when I see it.
“Fine. What’s your proposition?” I ask.
Obviously, I’m a moron.
“How about a little wager? We’ll each do our own separate thing. I didn’t reenlist with the army and I’m on furlough from the police force right now because of budget cuts, so I need the work. But I’ll leave you alone to chase after McFadden. If you catch him first, you win.”
Who doesn’t like a little bet? My heritage practically screams gambling aficionado; we go to the church and bet on simulcast horse racing all in the name of Jesus. If a Notre Dame game starts to get a little boring (don’t tell my father I said that), we’ll start placing bets on anything we can think of.
“I’ve got five on that super fan in the first row taking his shirt off before the third quarter.”
“Double or nothing on the announcer saying the phrase ‘ball and sack’ in the same sentence by the end of the quarter.”
“I’ll wash your car for a week if there’s a Budweiser commercial during the next break.”