Free Thursdays At Eight by Debbie Macomber

see my son,” Michael snarled, not giving her a chance to explain.
    â€œDid I say otherwise?” she returned in like tones. “Whether Alex sees you or not is his decision. Not yours and certainly not mine.”
    â€œI agree,” he said, but his voice still held an edge.
    â€œSee? We can agree on some things,” she said with exaggerated sweetness.
    â€œIs there a legitimate purpose for this call?”
    â€œYes.” She made herself sound calm and businesslike. “I understand you’re planning to attend Alex’s soccer games.”
    Clare could feel Michael’s tension through the phone line. “Do I need to call my attorney? Is that what you’re saying?”
    Clare laughed softly. “I can’t believe you want to tangle with Lillian Case again.”
    â€œI’ll do whatever is necessary if you try to keep me away from my son.”
    â€œMichael, really!” Her aggrieved tone was convincing, she thought. She was a better actress than she’d realized. Hell, Karen should take lessons from her.
    â€œDo you enjoy this? Do you get some kind of sick thrill out of making my life miserable?”
    Clare could almost see his face getting red. She could feel his anger—and she loved it. The exhilaration she experienced now made up for the months of strained, angry silence. Had she known the sense of triumph, of satisfaction, this would give her, she’d have phoned him much sooner.
    â€œI didn’t say anything about preventing you from seeing his games, did I?” she asked, again maintaining a cool, even voice. “If you want to go to Alex’s soccer matches, that’s perfectly fine with me.”
    â€œYou’re damn straight I have a right to see Alex play!”
    If he’d shut up long enough, he’d learn she had no objection to his being there. “Michael, listen,” she said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice.
    â€œNo, you listen! If I need to have my attorney call yours, then so be it.”
    â€œMichael—”
    â€œI’m warning you, Clare, I’ve had all I can take of your bullshit.”
    â€œI didn’t phone to start an argument.”
    â€œThe hell you didn’t.”
    â€œNo, really. All I wanted was to set up some sort of schedule. For Alex’s sake.” She waited for him to react.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œAlex’s soccer games. I was hoping we could be civilized about this. The last thing I want is to get the courts involved. Not again.”
    â€œI don’t relish the idea myself.”
    She’d just bet he didn’t. “You have to know how difficult it was for me to call you.”
    Silence.
    â€œWe haven’t spoken in more than a year. I’ve put up with the situation, got on with my life. It isn’t like I’ve made a pest of myself, is it?”
    â€œJust say what you have to say.”
    â€œYou want to attend Alex’s soccer matches. So do I. He’s my son, too. But I think it’d be best all the way around for us not to show up at the same time. That way Alex can concentrate on his game instead of what’s happening off-field between his parents.”
    â€œAll right,” Michael said, sounding guarded.
    â€œI tried to avoid this. If you’d read your e-mail, we could have solved everything without all this…unpleasantness.”
    â€œI assumed Alex told you I was planning to be there.”
    â€œOriginally, all he said was that you might start coming to the games. Thursday night, he dropped the news—he said you were coming to this game. But that’s not enough notice for me. Keith’s mother asked me to help her at the concession stand and it would be irresponsible to cancel at the last minute. Ifyou’d gotten back to me, I might have been able to find a replacement. I can’t now.”
    â€œIn other words, you don’t want me there this