“Excuse me?”
“You’re not excused. Here’s the thing, Terrence. I get you now; I really do. You like plump girls like me, you do. More than you care to admit. That’s why you were drawn to me, why you proposed to me, why you wasted a year of my life with what turned out to be empty promises.
“Because you knew your mother would never let you marry me. And you’re mommy’s good little boy. You’ll marry whoever she tells you to marry, a pretty New York debutante.” I pause and give Katrina an appreciative smile. “Case in point.”
“You sound bitter,” Terrence sneers.
I laugh from the bottom of my belly. “Oh, I love that you mistake bitterness for absolute relief. I am thankful for the way things turned out. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.You’re the miserable and bitter one, not me, because deep down, I really am the woman you wanted to marry.
“So what do you do to soothe your misery?” I add, a grin slitting my face as I watch his silent rage unfurl beneath the surface. “You try to take it out on me. You try to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you, when you know you were the one who wasn’t good enough for me. You’ll never be good enough for me because you’re not a man, Terrence. You’re Mommy’s good little puppet.
“Don’t think for a second that your words hurt me. I don’t give a rat’s ass, but I had to let you know. I had to do you this one solid favor because you clearly need to hear the truth for once.”
“I married the perfect woman,” he says, absolutely seething.
I can tell from Katrina’s disappointment that she doesn’t believe him. It’s okay. He doesn’t believe himself either. It’s obvious from his high-pitched tone.
“Then why are you still trying so hard to hurt me?”
“Because you got it into your head that you’re something special. You think you’re something else now that my brothers are passing you around, and you don’t even realize it’s not a privilege to be a Morgan whore?—”
My fist flies out before my brain can process the movement. Terrence doesn’t see it coming. I get him right in the nose, and blood gushes out.
Katrina lets out a scream, then rushes to his side. Reluctantly, Ian produces a handkerchief and hands it to Katrina, so she can use it to stem the blood flow.
“Oh, my God!” she croaks. “Willow, are youinsane?”
“No, I’m just tired of his bullshit,” I say, though I’m shaking like a leaf. I can’t believe I just did that. However, I show no sign of regret. My only option is to double down and point a warning finger at a traumatized Terrence.
“Let that be a lesson to you, Terrence. The next time you try to put me down or address me in any way that isn’t considered polite or respectful, I will break your nose again. And then your stepbrothers will break every other bone in your body, too, for good measure.”
“You crazy bitch!” he snarls, on the verge of tears.
At the same time, Ian stifles a laugh. “Shall I call you an ambulance, Mr. Madison?”
“No!”
“And by the way,” I add with a dry chuckle. “I hope you noticed the irony of calling me a Morgan whore, considering your own mother’s history with this family.”
I leave them all behind, eerily satisfied with my reaction. Perhaps violence wasn’t the best answer, but damn, it felt good. It felt liberating. It was as if I was released from all the anger and the pain that Terrence caused me when he dumped me.
“What happened in there?” Jamie asks as I get back in the car.
“Drive; I’ll tell you all about it,” I say with a sly grin.
Jamie is still laughing as we pull up outside Toby’s bike shop in northern Hoboken. It’s closed, though. The main door is shuttered, the office door is locked, and the lights are off inside.
It’s just a little after noon.
“Maybe they’re on a lunch break?” I mutter, turning around to look at Jamie.
He’s out of the car, joining me by the office door with a frown of his own. “Maybe we should just call them.”
The prospect sort of disappoints me. I was angling for a grand gesture, to surprise them, and then, the big reveal. I’d brace myself. I’d hold my breath for a moment, but know that they’re in this with me, all the way through to the end. I felt it for sure last night: the commitment, the desire to be a part of my life.
Jamie notices my hesitation, his lips curling up into a cute smile. “I get it,” he says. “It’s your way of flipping the script, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
