Egomaniac

I could get used to this.

I’d just gotten out of the shower and walked into the kitchen. Emerie was standing at the stove wearing one of my dress shirts, which hung to her knees, and making something that smelled almost as good as she did. Music was playing, and I hung back in the doorway and watched as she swayed from side, singing some song I didn’t recognize.

As if sensing me, after a minute she turned and smiled. “Breakfast is almost done.”

I nodded but stayed put another minute, enjoying watching her. Five days ago, after Alexa had stomped in and started in on me about wanting to take Beck on a road trip, I’d assumed my week would be shit—as was typical after one of our arguments. But Emerie had a way of calming me, making me focus on the positive. It might also have helped that she’d been in my bed every night to help me alleviate any stress, and that I’d woken this morning to her head beneath the covers and her tongue licking me like I was a lollipop.

She smiled and winked with a blush. “Go sit. My turn to feed you.”

Yeah. There’s a distinct possibility I could get used to this.

“What time is your first appointment?” I asked. We’d finished breakfast, then I’d fucked her on the kitchen counter before cleaning up the dishes while she got ready. Now she was brushing some shit onto her eyelashes as she leaned in to the mirror.

“Ten. But I need to run to my apartment first. You?”

“No appointments until this afternoon, but I have to draft a motion and get it over to family court by then. What do you need from your apartment?”

“Clothes. Unless you think I can get away with a belt and heels with this?” She gestured to my dress shirt, which hung open, and she had nothing on underneath it. Loving the easy access, I cupped one tit in my hand before reaching down and kissing her perky nipple.

“Why don’t you keep some clothes here for the nights you stay over, so you don’t have to run home commando in your clothes from the day before?” Even though the statement came without much thought, it didn’t freak me out after I’d put it out there. Odd.

Emerie looked up at me. “Are you offering me a drawer?”

I shrugged. “Take half the closet, if you want. I don’t like the idea of you running around the city with your skirt and no underwear on in the mornings—even though I don’t really get why you can’t just turn them inside out and wear ’em again.”

She crinkled up her nose. “That’s a guy thing.”

After she finished putting on the makeup she kept in her purse, she got dressed and went back to her apartment. I called Alexa and left a message that I’d be by to pick Beck up for the weekend about five tonight.

Grateful that her voicemail had answered instead of her, I went downstairs to get some work done, still in my good mood—only to be greeted by a process server waiting at my door. I was a divorce lawyer; it wasn’t unusual to be served first thing in the morning. It was unusual for the service to be from an Atlanta court.

I’d just finished reading the same paragraph in the motion for the fifth time.

Changes have occurred since the last custody judgment that necessitate a modification in the child visitation order. The changes were unknown at the time of the final decree and justify a revision to the custody arrangement.

It was the next part that had me sitting in my chair, rather than heading to Alexa’s apartment, because I feared what I was capable of after reading the rest.

Annexed hereto, paternity has been established for Levi Archer Bodine and not the defendant granted visitation in the final decree of custody.

The petitioner requests a modification from equal shared custody to allow the defendant visitation every other weekend for a period of eight hours. The increased visitation of the petitioner is to allow time for the introduction of the biological father to the minor subject child.

Further, the defendant’s shared custody should be reduced based upon recent incidents of child neglect. Namely, the defendant has engaged in conduct which put the subject child at risk by exposing the child to known criminals. As a direct result of that conduct, the subject child has been injured.

Wherefore, the petitioner has reason to be concerned about the safety of the minor subject child and requests an immediate modification of the custody decree.

The annexed documentation in support of the petition included a copy of the purported criminal’s most recent arrest and an emergency room report. The criminal was Emerie, and of course, it was only a partial copy of the charges of indecent exposure. There was no mention that she’d been a teenager or that the charge was reduced last month. In addition to that crock of shit, there was a copy of the emergency room report bearing the diagnosis of accidental burn, along with an affidavit from a nurse that verified Beck was brought in with his father and the woman who had been watching him at the time of the injury: Emerie Rose.

After the third time I reached voicemail, I couldn’t take it anymore and headed to Alexa’s in person. It wasn’t the smartest idea, considering the mood I was in, but I needed to have it out with her. I had only one thing to lord over this woman, but I had lots of it: money. I wasn’t above paying her to cut this shit out. Again. This little game was retaliation for telling her she couldn’t take Beck on a two-week tour following the NASCAR circuit. She needed to show me who was in control. I knew my ex-wife; she was cunning and all about making sure she had the upper hand. Our fight, and likely seeing Emerie, had left her feeling that I needed to be put in my place.

The first knock on her apartment door went unanswered and only served to piss me off and make me knock louder. After two impatient minutes, I took out my key. When I’d kicked Alexa out and rented her this place, I’d kept a key for myself. There’d never been an occasion to use it, but I was done with her avoiding me.

The lock was jammed, but after a minute of jiggling the key around, I felt some sense of relief hearing the loud clank as it slid open. Not wanting to get smacked in the head with a pan, I cracked the door open and yelled.

“Alexa?”

No answer.

A second time. “Alexa?”

The hallway was quiet, and there wasn’t a sound coming from inside the apartment. Deciding it was safe, I pushed the door open.

And my heart stopped when I saw what was inside.