Not caring to argue, I said, “The snow’s stopped. If the pilot says we’re clear, I’m flying out.” I opened the call screen. “You can stay—I’ll send for you when the cabin stay is over.”
She turned on the light located on the nightstand next to the bed. “You serious?” she asked, looking like I just said the worst thing in the world to her.
“Dead ass,” I responded dryly.
She laughed—a mixture of sinister and disbelief. “You bastard. You unbelievable motherfucker.” Her pitch began to elevate. “I knew this would happen. I knew you’d let that bitch ruin everything we have!”
I turned, heat rising in the back of my neck, my temper finally making its appearance in the room.
“What do we have, Paris? Huh?” I closed the gap between me and the bed. “I fuck you. You spend my money. That’s it. You only started trying to be a girlfriend when you learned Mahasin was pregnant, and I wasn’t on no deadbeat shit.”
Silence flashed between us, and for a second, she looked as though she was shocked by her own behavior. I didn’t give the moment time to recover.
“You know what’s crazy?” I said, my voice lower and calmer, because I too was shocked by my behavior. “I was going to try with you. I told myself I’d give this a real shot instead of ending it when we got home. This short time at this cabin—I assumed you were showing me another side of you. One that felt enjoyable—dare I say, lovable.”
Her eyes widened. “End?” “You were going to break up with me?”
“Yes.” Honesty felt like a breath of fresh air. “Because you care more about competing with Mahasin than making this relationship work—for all of us, for my kid.”
“I’m not obligated to help you raise a baby I didn’t make!”
That line came straight from her soul—she meant that shit and probably had been saving it to cut me deep in a moment like this.
“You’re right,” I said, nodding once. “And I’m not obligated to keep raising you.”
“What does that even mean?” Her voice thinned but still contained a generous amount of attitude.
“It means you’re not my child,” I said. “You’re not even a good girlfriend. Shame on me for wasting both our time. Just like I made my daughter, your parents made you—let them pay your bills, allow you to splurge in stores, and pay for you to travel privately where you want, whenever you want.”
She stumbled out of bed, her bare feet slapping the floor, panic now replacing her rage. She knew she had fucked up.
“Gage, no. Wait.” She grabbed my forearm with both hands, nails pressing through my hoodie. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—baby, please, we can fix this, we can—”
“Nah.” I pulled my arm free, not rough—just done. “I’m finished fixing people who don’t want to grow up. I got to be insane dealing with the same type of female and expecting a different result.”
I hit the pilot’s number and he answered almost instantly. “John, listen, sorry to wake you, brother, but I have an emergency. My daughter’s mother went into labor, and I got to get to her, man.”
John wasn’t a man of many words, but the long pause after my request had me uneasy.
Just when I was about to call his name, he spoke; the pause must have been him checking to see if we were safe to fly. “We’re good to go. I’ll send a car to you now. Roads are clear—should be there in twenty.”
Relief slid under my skin. “Bet, I’ll be out front,” I said.
Snatching up my coat, I headed toward the door. I was going to hop in that car as soon as it pulled up.
Paris backed into the doorway and spread her arms, blocking the exit, sheets knotted in her fists, covering her naked body. “If you walk out, we’re done,” she said. “I’ll tell everyone you cheated on me.”
I laughed, the sound coming from someplace past tired and full of annoyance. “Paris, we've been done. And you can tell whoever you want. I’m good at a lot of things, but giving a fuck was never one of them. Now move.”
I stepped closer and shifted her aside with my shoulder—a gentle push that was final. The cold air met me as I stepped onto the porch. She followed me, hollering like a madwoman.
“You’re a weirdo, Gage!” she screamed as I took one step off the porch. “You are lucky a bad bitch like me even wanted your disabled ass. You may appear fine on the outside, but you are extremely boring and unappealing. Reason why—somebody else has been serving this wet pussy!”
The wordweirdoused to hit a nerve in the past. It was Kelsey’s favorite insult to throw before I sent her ass packing, too. Same script, different actors. I descended the rest of the steps.
Headlights swept the pines, drawing lines across the snow-dark driveway. The all-black, bulletproof Cadillac truck came to a stop, and my driver stepped out in a navy wool coat, grabbed my duffle, and placed it in the back seat of the passenger side.
Opening the rear driver-side door, I placed one foot in when Paris rushed toward the vehicle, barefoot, with only the room sheets to shield her from the cold.
