“Because I was mad. I am mad. You can’t bulldoze my affairs, butt in where you don’t belong. I don’t need your protection. Lucky for you, I’m disgusted with Bryce right now, and yes, I quit my job. But I’m going to get another, and you can’t bully every one of my bosses. I’ve been independent for a long time.”
“Did you see a doctor? A real doctor? Not an intern or resident?” I couldn’t listen to that other crap right now. Later, I would promise to stay out of her shit. Not now.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, but tell me about your foot. I can’t discuss you working right now. You’re injured.” I stood up and paced the room like a caged animal. “Did you press charges? He touched you ... I’m going to beat the fuck out of him. You know that?”
“No, you’re not. You’re going to leave him alone. And no, I’m not pressing charges because I just want to be done with him and that place, okay? Listen, we’re making a new life. We have to be on the same page.”
“I know, but ... no, it’s not okay. I am going to deal with that prick, but we can finish this discussion in the morning. Let’s get you out of those clothes and into bed.”
I couldn’t listen to her bullshit anymore. I would take matters into my own hands whether Jules liked it or not.
She started to stand, and I went to lift her. “No, my crutches, please.”
“Ugh, you’re going to be a stubborn one with this.”
“Drew, let me be.”
She held on to the banister and hoisted herself upstairs, and stood outside the guest room. I cracked the door open for her, and she leaned against the jamb and peeked in on our daughter.
“Did you have a good night?”
“The best.” I kissed behind her ear, pulling her hair away.
“She looks happy, even in her sleep.”
“She’ll be happier now that she has more time with you.”
That got me an eye roll before she hobbled down the hall on her crutches to the master bedroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jules rolled her shoulders and took off her solo clog. I came close and lifted her shirt above her head, taking my time, inhaling her hair and holding her close.
“I need a shower. Do you think you could hold me up in there on one foot?”
“I thought you would never ask.”
“Not now, Drew. Not now. I’m exhausted, and I want to get to bed.”
“Just lean on me, babe. Tonight, tomorrow, forever. That’s all I want.”
Jules
Isat up in the bed made for a king, leaning back into a mountain of pillows—big ones, little ones, satin ones, patchwork ones—and put my foot up on a huge stack at the foot of the bed meant for that exact purpose.
I watched Drew walking back into his—our—room.
Within two days of my foot being broken, he’d had a gang of twelve packing, moving, and unpacking our stuff. There wasn’t much, so I didn’t think that many people were necessary, but they also assembled Darla’s new furniture and painted her room.
Silver and pink, exactly like she wanted.
Oh, and then there was the mounting of a turtle habitat near the balcony door.
Mikey Oliver, our new turtle, lived in there. Yes, that was his full name. Calliope Kitty, our new cat, made herself comfortable wherever she saw fit. At the moment, she was burrowed next to the pillow where my foot rested.
Within two weeks, Drew’s bachelor pad had turned into a family home/petting zoo. There was talk of a rural house in the Midwest and a pony. I couldn’t even think about it.
Basically, Drew was a yes machine when it came to Darla, and since I was currently a helpless gimp, I allowed my daughter to become the most spoiled little girl on the planet, giving Drew carte blanche to undo everything I’d done.
