26
Ihadn't believed that Monica would actually approach me. She was haughty, aloof, and snobby. Maybe she was confrontational with Brody, but I doubted that she would behave that way with me.
I discovered that I was wrong the next Monday when I was alone at the shop, prepping for the following week. And, boy, when I was wrong, I was damn wrong.
I was scrubbing the heck out of the floor, something I did once or twice a month. We mopped every night, but sometimes dirt and sticky splatters remained on the bottom edge of the tile that ran around the base of all the walls in place of baseboards.
Which meant that I was on my hands and knees when she knocked on the front door of the store.
I looked up, saw Monica standing there in a lavender sheath dress that clung to her figure in all the right places but skimmed just enough that it wasn't trashy.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
Not only was I on my hands and knees, but I was also wearing my oldest, rattiest t-shirt and shorts because I was using bleach water to scrub the tiles and I didn't want to ruin any of my nicer clothes.
Monica shoved her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and gave me a pointed look as she knocked again.
Ugh. I tossed the rag I was using in the bucket and stripped off the rubber gloves I was wearing. They were bright yellow and had a white ruffle dotted with sunflowers near the elbow.
Monica gave them a disdainful look as I dropped them next to the bucket.
I didn't roll my eyes, but it was a near thing. If she hoped to make me feel small by sneering at the fact that I worked hard, she was definitely going to fail. I was proud of how much I'd accomplished and all of it through my own sweat and effort.
I was pretty sure that Monica hadn't worked a day in her life.
I unlocked the front door and planted myself in front of it. "Hello, Monica."
"Cameron." She didn't say anything else, as if she was waiting for me to speak or do something. When I didn't, she asked, "Aren't you going to invite me inside?"
"I haven't decided yet. How about you tell me why you're here? I'll have a better idea of what I want to do then."
She seemed taken aback by my words. I didn't want to provoke her, but she had no reason to come see me unless she intended to stir up trouble.
Or use me to make peace with Brody, in which case I didn't want to do. If she wanted to improve her relationship with her ex-husband, she needed to approach him directly. And apologize.
"I want to talk to you about Jacqueline," she said.
"Okay," I replied without moving from my spot in the middle of the doorway.
"Are we really going to have this conversation out here on the sidewalk?"
"We don't have to," I answered. "We don't have to speak at all."
Monica sighed, a sound of pure frustration. "Look, Broderick isn't listening to me about this, so I thought maybe you would be more reasonable. Obviously, I was wrong." She shook her head but continued. "Bottom line, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be spending so much time around Jacqueline. It will make it more difficult for her when her father and I get back together."
My train of thought screeched to a complete halt. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
Monica gave me a self-satisfied smirk. "Broderick and I will be getting back together. And your continued presence in Jacqueline's life until that happens will only confuse her further."
I threw my head back and laughed. Monica stared at me with equal parts confusion and irritation.
"I'm not sure why you find this so funny." Her tone was haughty and she squared her shoulders, leaving her spine rigid.
"I find it hilarious," I said. "And also pathetic."
Monica's eyes narrowed. "Pardon me?"
I stopped smiling then and stared at her. "It's clear to me that you're attempting to manipulate his life, and therefore your daughter's, by coming to me in an effort to stir the pot."
