Typical.
When she finally pushes through the door, shaking snow off her glossy black hair and scanning the room like she expects every head to turn and stare, the only thing that stuns me is that I ever put a ring on her finger.
Jesus. I must have been out of my goddamn mind back then.
She spots me in the booth and her lips curve into a familiar smile. She used to practice it in the mirror because she thought it made her look irresistible, but it just makes her look unhinged.
Eyes locked on mine, she sways over, her coat sliding off her shoulders so slowly it’s obvious she thinks I’m about to stand and help her. I don’t move.
“Boone,” she purrs as she slides in next to me. Her perfume hits instantly, a sweet, cloying, artificial scent that has alwaysmade my stomach curdle. “You look good, baby. Have you been working out?”
She reaches for my arm, and I lean back so her hand hits air. “Don’t touch me, Tessa. Go sit over there.”
I jerk my chin at the chair a normal person would take, across the table instead of next to me. Her smile flickers, but she does it, scooting across with just enough attitude to let me know she hates being told no.
“What’s going on?” she asks, folding her arms and leaning forward like a glimpse of her cleavage will seduce me into forgetting every horrible thing she’s ever done. “You texted out of nowhere?—”
“You showed up at my home,” I cut in. “Twice. You harassed Roxie, so here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get right back up, walk out of here, pack your shit, and leave town. Tonight.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head, incredulity written all over her face. “Boone, come on. You can’t seriously be choosing some little city mouse.”
I stare at her. “You don’t belong in my life anymore. You never really did, and we both know it. I might not know what the fuck you’re doing here, but I’m not going to sit back and find out.”
She blinks rapidly, probably taken aback by the blunt rejection in my tone. She still thinks she has some kind of hold on me. Tessa is allergic to accepting that she can’t just snap her fingers and I’ll come running.
“Boone,” she tries again, gentler now, like she’s going for sympathy. “Look, I heard you were doing well, that you built something out here. And I know you. I know how lonely you get. I thought maybe?—”
“No.” I bark the word sharp enough to make her flinch. “You don’t know me, Tessa. Once upon a time a very long fucking time ago you knew a young, immature version of me who was drunk on fame, fighting, and bad decisions. You don’t know the man I am now, and you’re not going to.”
Her lips curl. “So, you think this Roxie does? That she knows you better than I do?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “It hasn’t even been that long, and she already knows me better than you ever did.”
I watch fury spark in her eyes a moment before she snaps, “She’s using you, Boone. All of you. God, you’re smarter than that.”
I lean in. “What I do with my life doesn’t concern you. All you need to know is that I’m telling you to stay the hell away from her, from us, and from my home.”
She mutters something under her breath, probably nasty, but I keep going. “And in case it wasn’t clear, the baby is ours. Roxie is my family now, and you know how protective I am of my family, so I strongly suggest you take my advice and fuck off.”
Her eyes go huge with outrage. “You can’t seriously think?—”
“I’m not discussing it with you,” I say firmly, narrowing my eyes just a little.
She sits back, head shaking, lips tightening into a snarl. “You’re making a mistake. Boone, she’s not right for you.”
“You need to leave town,” I repeat calmly. “Now. If you don’t, we’ll make sure that when you do leave, it’s in handcuffs in the back of a van.”
Her face twists, but she grabs her purse, shoving out of the booth and standing there trembling with anger. “This isn’t over.”
“It is,” I say. “For you.”
She storms out, pushing through the café doors so hard they rattle. Snow blows in after her, swirling in the doorway before the doors fall shut. I watch her stalk across the street to that over-polished SUV of hers, but as she climbs in, I know she isn’t the real problem we’re facing.
If she knows Roxie is from New York, it’s because someone else told her. Tessa isn’t stupid, but she doesn’t know how to dig deep. With nothing but a face and maybe a name from that first visit to our house, there’s no way she could’ve tracked Roxie herself.
