I could see how his words hit her, the way her shoulders slumped as she whispered, “I know. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to lunge at him. He’d been married to her for almost a decade; he shouldknowby now that she didn’t need anyone piling on when she already did it to herself. Jules was her own harshest critic. He kept going like he needed to twist the knife.
“I don’t want to seem like the jealous ex-husband here, Jules. But how well do you know this guy to let him near our kids?”
That was it. My cue. There was no way I was going to stand by and let him make this whole situation worse. We were walking on thin ice, and if counterfeit Dean Winchester here was the push that drove her away from me, I wouldn’t be held responsible for what happened next. Before she could respond, I stepped into the kitchen, making sure to make my presence known.
“Hey,” I said, extending my hand like this wasn’t the most uncomfortable encounter of my life. “I’m Chris. Nice to meet you.”
George glanced at my hand, then up at me, and didn’t move to shake it. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I know,” he said coldly. He wasn’t even going to pretend to be polite.
Fine.
For a split second, I considered punching him. But then I remembered I’d promised Jules to keep my asshole tendencies in check. So, I swallowed the urge and plastered on a calm expression instead.
“Don’t worry,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “I’llschedule a meeting with my team this afternoon. Nothing like that will happen again.”
“You can’t guarantee that,” George said, being confrontational.
Who did this guy think he was?
The kids’ father,I reminded myself. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to keep it together. I needed to play nice. I raised an eyebrow.
“Well…”
“And I can’t say you look like the kind of guy who would care enough to do something about it,” he cut me off.
My hands flexed at my sides, and I could see his fists clench, too. Our unspoken resentment was boiling over, ready to explode. I couldn’t keep the nice guy act any longer. I looked him up and down, letting my own intensity match his.
“I can’t say you look like the guy who would have the means to actually keep them safe.”
His expression hardened instantly.
“We were all doing fine before you showed up.” There it was. That jab, that bitterness, like he’d been waiting to get it out.
I leaned in slightly, deliberately keeping my voice calm but letting the provocation land.
“Come on, Gabriel,” I said, throwing in the wrong name on purpose. “I got it from here. I can give them what you never could.” Then, because I couldn’t resist, I punctuated it with a pat on his shoulder. It wasn’t friendly—it was dismissive, condescending.
His face turned red, his fists clenching even tighter. For a second, I thought he might actually take a swing at me. But before he could, Jules stepped in between us, her hands pressing against George’s chest to hold him back. The sightof her going tohimfirst, instinctively choosing to calm him down instead of me, hit like a sucker punch to the gut.
“Please,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “Since you’re already here, why don’t you take the kids for ice cream? We can talk when you get back.”
She didn’t even look at me.
I swallowed hard, holding back the wave of jealousy and frustration growing inside me. George’s jaw tightened, and his eyes locked onto mine, the silent confrontation between us stretching longer than it should. I kept my gaze steady, daring him to make the first move.
God, I wished he would.
One swing, one excuse to break his pretty-boy face.
“George,” Jules’ voice broke off the standoff.
He finally looked at her, but his posture stayed rigid.
“We need to talk about this,” he bit out his words.
