I ask.
Her eyes are imploring. “I have an appointment soon. Can I walk you out?”
Even knowing Trevor’s on the phone, hell if I can say no to those eyes. “Ah, sure.”
Outside, we stand on the sidewalk in front of my car.
I turn to her and force myself to say calmly, “Tell me he’s not coming here. Tell me you got a restraining order on him already.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
“You’re not going to get a restraining order?” I ask in an incredulous tone.
She glances at the ground.
My stomach does this strange little drop thing I’ve never felt before. “What the hell, Allie? He basically attacked you on Saturday.”
“Listen, Justin, things are complicated. He’s my son’s father. I own a shop with him. Todd and Shay, even Mandy and Mac, they all rely on me. I have rent and bills to pay. I can’t make a decision based on what’s good just for
The image of Trevor shoving her flashes through my head. “Good for you? He’s dangerous.”
Her chest rises and her arms tighten. “He’s just a jerk, but no matter what, he’ll always be part of my life. I can’t get around it.”
My head spins with incomprehension. I’m not sure what to make of this. On our nature walk, Holly had set my mind at ease about Trevor. I’d believed what she’d said—that Allie wouldn’t allow me to meet Ben if she still had feelings for Trevor. But if that’s true, then what Allie is saying makes no sense.
“What is going on between you two?” I ask, my jaw tight.
She rears back, blinking in confusion. “Nothing. He just…can make things difficult.”
I’m trying to wrap my head around what she’s saying. “So you let him control you?”
She shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Of course you don’t get it. You have no responsibilities. You go to school and play in a band, while your parents…”
“Throw money at me,” I finish for her.
Biting her lip, she stares across the street and wraps her arms around herself. “I need some time, Justin.”
The entire world fades away as I stare at her while those words slowly seep into me.
Her pewter gaze lifts to mine. “I need to think some things through.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, refusing to believe what it sounds like she’s saying.
“Things are hard right now. I need some space.”
“From me?” I ask hoarsely.
Digging the tip of her boot into the cement, she nods.
“Allie, don’t push me away.” I reach for her, but she steps back. My newly awoken heart cracks like the damaged concrete on the sidewalk below us.
“Just give me some time.”
“So I’m supposed to wait?” She doesn’t answer, just stares at the sidewalk. Anger jolts through me. “What the fuck am I waiting for?”
“I need to straighten some things out.”
“Will you quit talking in riddles? Is this because of what I told you yesterday?” I finally ask.
Her expression is conflicted. “Partly.”
I step closer to her. Close enough our bodies almost touch. “I can’t take those words back because they’re true. But they were given freely, without any expectations.”
“I get that,” she says with a nod. “But those words are still weighing on me.
“Does ‘everything’ have to do with Trevor?”
“I don’t want to discuss him much less think about him right now.” She reaches for then squeezes my hands. “Give me a few days, okay? I need some space to get my head on straight.”
She pulls away but pauses after taking in my desolate expression. “This isn’t the end or anything, Justin. It’s just a break.”
“A fucking break,” I murmur, trying to control my anger as it spikes again.
Her mouth tightens. “Please don’t make me feel guilty about this. I have enough on my mind right now.”
Though it’s harder than hell, I force down my anger, and hurt, and keep my face neutral. “A few days?”
She nods and tugs open the glass door. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”
I nod but as she steps into the shop, this break feels like it’ll be more than a few days. It feels like the beginning of the end.
Even though I work only until eight, I haven’t taken a Friday night off in ages. But on this occasion, it’s Ben’s spring play at school, which is not something I’m willing to miss. Along with my parents, Holly and I have front-row seats. My father readies the video recorder while we wait for the kids to come onstage. I’m a little worried Ben might not show since he’s not too keen about performing onstage. Acting is one thing I can say is not in my son’s future. Which is why I was reduced to parental bribery in the form of ice cream. He does come on though—and afterward I applaud until my hands hurt.
It’s just a short drive from his school to the local diner near our apartment, where Ben insists on ordering a massive banana split.
While kneeling on the booth’s bench seat and diving into the ice cream, Ben says, “I thought Dad was going to come.”
“He must have gotten tied up with business stuff,” I say carefully, not wanting to give away how much I hate Trevor right now. “Grandpa got it on video. You two can watch it together and laugh.”
Ben smiles. “I said my lines funny, huh?”
I wrap an arm around his shoulders. “You said your lines perfect.”
“Dude,” Holly says from across the table, “your performance was Oscar-worthy.”
“Who’s Oscar?” he asks.
“Not a who but a what,” Holly says, snagging the cherry from the top of the mound of ice cream while Ben frowns at her. “Every year a bunch of people get together and give out trophies called Oscars to the best actors.”
Ben pushes his lips together. “So where’s mine?”
Holly throws the cherry stem at him. “You have to wait for Oscar night.”
He throws the stem back and it lands in her hair. “When’s that?”
“Next winter,” she says, digging through her blonde locks for the stem.
He gives her a long glare, then digs into chocolate ice cream. “The banana split is better.”
“Way better,” I agree, skimming off some fudge sauce.
Even with three of us, we don’t make a dent in the massive mountain of ice cream in front of us. Holly, refusing to take no for an answer, pays.
We get home late. Well, late for Ben—it’s almost ten when he gets into the tub. I keep an eye on him through the open bathroom door while I pick up his room. Holly, with an overnight bag on her shoulder, pauses in the doorway.
“Just look at tonight. Trevor would never win. Stop worrying about it.”
She’s referring to Trevor’s continued threats about custody and the tight expression I’ve worn all week. The expression I’m wearing at the moment.
“You’re right. He probably wouldn’t.” I stuff a dinosaur book onto a shelf. “But he’d probably get joint
