CHAPTER 16 JOLENE

Ken approves the podcast immediately, and we're signing Ellie's contract a day later with plans to get the first episode up before training camp begins.

That means we have a whole hell of a lot of work to accomplish in a rather short window of time.

Lincoln wants to get a few episodes done before training camp so we have something waiting in the wings just in case, and I'm definitely not opposed to that idea, though I like the immediacy of filming weekly so we can keep up to date on current events.

It's a Friday morning after I kissed Jonah a million times since he's going to his dad's house after school—much to both of our dismay, but my lawyer is still working on getting Jeremy cut from the visitation plans—when my phone rings.

And speak of the devil, it's Jeremy.

I cross my fingers that he's calling to let me know he can't take Jonah this weekend. It'll simply give me more fuel to cut him out.

Instead, when I answer, I'm met with silence. "Jeremy?"

"She left. Alyssa took the girls and left."

I can't tell if he sounds drunk or sad. Maybe both.

And I have no idea what to say.

"I'm so sorry. That must be heartbreaking." My voice is flat, but I'm at work. I'm not exactly here to listen to this dude's sob story, particularly when he cheated on me with the woman who just left him a little over seven years ago—a constant reminder anytime I think of my son's age.

"Thank God Jonah is here this weekend so I won't be alone."

Poor Jonah. That's an awful lot to put on a kid. I don't say anything because I'm still not quite sure how to handle this one.

I'm waiting on a social visit to prove Jeremy doesn't deserve mandatory visitation, and now that Alyssa isn't there, I'm more convinced than ever that Jonah has no safe zone at his place.

"I'm sorry to call you at work," he says. "I just needed…someone."

Yeah. I felt that way too when I found out he cheated on me.

I'm not about to volunteer for the position this time around. He hurt me, and I've never forgiven him for it. But over time I learned that I am much, much better off without him.

"I'm sorry you're hurting," I say, my voice still flat. "But please don't put this on Jonah." The end comes out a little more pleading than I intend for it to.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, his tone defensive, and I knew I made a mistake the second the words came out of my mouth.

It was better when he was sad. Now he's angry, and he's directing it at me, and then he'll direct it at Jonah. He's not violent, so I'm not worried for my son's physical safety, but his emotional well-being is a different story completely. I don't want this to be one of those times when my son comes home from his dad's house and he's sad for two days. I hate when I feel helpless to do anything until he emerges from the fog.

"It means exactly what I just said. If you need to vent, find an adult who wants to listen. Don't make your kid miserable because you are." Oops. More words I immediately regret.

He's quiet a few beats, and I wait for him to unleash the wrath on me.

To my shock, he doesn't.

"I was hoping we could maybe…I don't know. Meet for coffee. Talk. Maybe take Jonah out for dinner together one night this weekend."

Now I'm certain he's drunk.

Not once in seven years has he offered to do dinner together for the sake of our son.

It sends up about a billion red flags and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

And yet, I find myself saying, "Sure. Dinner tonight would be fine."

Why do I say that?

Because of Jonah. If it means I get to be there as a bumper between my kid and his dad, then so be it.

Besides, Lincoln is taking Sam to an event tonight so they can have another fight. It'll be perfect if I'm also out to dinner, and then the evening will end and I can sneak over to Lincoln's place and spend the night there.

That's the plan, anyway. But sometimes the best laid plans go astray.

"Jolene?" Marcus says, and I glance up. "Can I have a word?"

I nod at him then say into the phone, "I have to go. Gridiron at six?"

"Sure. Bye."

I hang up and head to Marcus's office. "What's up, boss?"

He chuckles. "Close the door." I do, and he turns serious. "I have your podcast producer."

I raise both brows. "And?"

"It's Rivera."

"Rivera?" I whine. "After what I told you?"

"That's why I chose him." He presses his lips together. "Keep your friends close and all that."

"You want me to keep my enemy closer? Why? What good would that possibly do?"

He shrugs. "It will throw him off the scent. It'll give him free access to the two of you to see for himself nothing is going on."

"But won't the chemistry between us on the podcast make him question it even more?" I press.

"Depends what angle you're taking, Jolene. You're a professional, and I assume you'll be acting like one during all events related to this podcast since it's a station event now."

So does that mean no sex on top of the studio equipment?

I make the rather wise decision not to pose that question.

"Of course, Marcus. But—"

He holds up a hand. "No buts, Bailey. Of course you'll have chemistry. We wouldn't have you two working together if you didn't. But that'll just be part of the picture he's seeing, and you know he's our best content producer right now. He'll put together the exact right clips to make a piece that's flattering to the two of you and to whatever local establishment you're promoting."

I heave out a sigh. There's nothing I can do, but I hate the idea of having Rivera be any part of this project whatsoever.

Though I suppose he does have the time since he missed out on the correspondent position.

The nasty errant thought runs through my brain, and I'm not even a little sorry about it.

Later in the evening, I pull into the Gridiron to meet Jeremy and Jonah, and my baby boy comes running up to me the second he sees me. I guess Jeremy didn't tell him I was coming, but I physically see a change in my son's demeanor the second I arrive. I wish I got it on video to share with my lawyer.

More ammo against the ex.

But I didn't, and now we're here at my dad's restaurant putting in our order. We're seated at a booth, and Jonah sits next to me instead of his father—something his father clearly finds offensive by the way he rolls his eyes as we slide into the booth together.

"How was school?" I ask, putting the attention on my son.

He starts in on a story when Jeremy interrupts.

"Yeah, I don't know what school was like for Luna and Lily today since Alyssa just up and walked out with them." He shrugs, and I can't tell if he's just trying to steal attention, if he's upset, or what the hell he's doing.

I glance over at him with a dirty look that he clearly misses, and then I turn back to Jonah. "You were saying?"

He tells his story while Jeremy peruses the menu, paying no attention to our son, and then Debbie appears at our table.

"The usual for you two?" she asks Jonah and me, and I smile and nod. "And you?" she asks. She knows who Jeremy is, and since she's basically an extension of my family, she hates him.

And I love her all the more for it.

He places his order, and then he looks at me. "Tell me how to get her back."

"I'm not your therapist, and this isn't an appropriate discussion to have in front of our son," I say pointedly.

He blows out a frustrated breath. "I told you I needed someone to talk to."

"And I agreed to dinner so I could see Jonah. Phone a friend if you need someone to talk to," I suggest.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. I'll call my good friend Ryan Rivera. See what he's up to." He hisses it as if I'm supposed to feel threatened by that.

"Okay, good. Glad you have someone." I smile tightly, but he doesn't return the smile.

Instead, he gets up and walks out of the restaurant.

I glance at Jonah, and he looks confused—but not entirely upset.

"Is…is he coming back?" he asks.

I shrug, but then my eyes move out the windows toward the parking lot where I see him get in, start the car, and drive away.

"Let's just enjoy dinner, and if he doesn't come back, you'll come home with me," I say as Debbie sets our drinks in front of us.

"I kinda hope he doesn't come back."

Me too, kiddo. Me. Too.