“You got hit with a truck. Can you judge her?”
My eyes widen and I slap him with the back of my hand again. “Youhit me with the truck.”
He smirks. “It’s an unconventional method, but it worked.”
Only because my ankle is so much better and I’m ready to go back to work, I allow the joke to continue. Who laughs about hitting someone with a truck? What is wrong with people in this town?
“Did you have a good time?”Nate asks as he pulls back in my apartment parking lot.
After everyone finished admiring Tabitha’s ring and she continued refusing to explain how he proposed, we celebrated with cake and I even purchased a piece to bring back for Emma. It’s better than anything I could make from a Duncan Hines box.
“I did. Thanks for taking me.” I’ve never been with someone who not only realizes when I need a little support, but acts on it to help me out. But spending the last few hours with friends in the bakery helped so I didn’t miss Emma so much.
“What the fuck?” Nate asks, and I’m on high alert. My eyes scan the parking lot looking for whatever he sees.
Barry, with his hair gelled back, knocks three times on my car window, a scowl across his face.
I check the clock radio seconds before Nate turns off the car. We still had forty minutes before he was supposed to drop off Emma.
He steps back to get out of the door, and before my feet are even settled, he’s passed Emma to my waiting hands.
“Where have you been?” He spits the question at me in disgust, as if he’d been waiting around for an entire day.
Emma looks at her dad, scared. She’s never liked hearing him yell. Nate tenses beside me and I worry what will happen if I allow these two men to stand off in the parking lot. Thinking quickly, I pass Emma over to Nate to occupy his hands.
“Can you take her upstairs?” She shouldn’t see her parents fight.
“Josie?” he asked, his eyes wide with displeasure.
“Please, Nate.” I can handle Barry. I’ve been doing it for years. But I don’t want Emma to see him lose his temper.
I place more weight on my hurt ankles to keep my balance as Nate walks with Emma to the apartment door. A small tingle of pain coils itself around my ankle, and it’s the first bout I’ve had in the last few hours.
“Well?” he asks again, but I’ve already forgotten the original question.
I cross my arms. Screw him. I’m no longer the sad little girl who got married too young and puts up with his bull crap. “Why are you here so early?” He never drops Emma off a minute earlier than he’s ordered. I swear he used to drive around the block making sure she didn’t make it back a second earlier when I wanted her.
“Where were you, Josie? Did you spend the night at his place?”
My mouth drops open, mostly because he has the audacity to ask that question. We’re divorced. “No, I did not sleep over at his place.” I leave out the part where he slept at mine. I’ve never been to Nate’s house, and I get lost in the small moment thinking I need to invite myself over and see where he lives.
I must make sure he is not hiding a secret family somewhere. Not that I expect him to be that kind of guy, but I also didn’t expect it of Barry either. I used to think he was too honest to keep secrets. Ha.
“I don’t like Emma’s mother out running the streets.”
“Excuse me?” What street does he think I’m running around? “Is Pelican Bay a dangerous town in your opinion?”
He has no concern over what I’m doing. He’s only pissed because he thinks I’m having fun. Barry doesn’t like the fact I’m seeing Nate. He’s allowed to move on, but I never should in his opinion.
“You should concern yourself with raising our daughter rather than someone you’re sleeping with.”
When he gets out this outrageous, it’s easy to ignore him. I roll my eyes and step to the side, ready to walk in the apartment. I can pick up her bag of clothes later.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he says grabbing onto my arm.
I rip out of his grasp. “You’re only pissed off because I’m dating someone, Barry. At least Nate is of proper age.” He’s older than me, rather than ten years younger.
The comment works as Barry hesitates for a moment before he stomps over to his car and retrieves the overstuffed diaper bag I packed for Emma. He practically throws it in my direction, and I’m forced to put more weight on my hurt ankle to reach out and grab it.
