“Try me.”
Her upper lip curls, which indicates where this is leading. I know her so well. She picks up one of my Brit Awards and, with genuine effort, aims it my way. Covering my head with my arms, I duck as it hits a vase on the cabinet beside me and the glass shatters into a million pieces.
A second goes by before I stand fully and confront her. “Are you fucking mad!” My hands fist by my side, and I’m doing everything I can to keep my cool. “I’m not putting up with your bullshit any longer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve smashed your last item in this house.”
A hum leaves her lips. “Oh, yeah?” She picks up a ceramic vase from the table and before I can speak, it’s flyingpast my head. This time, the noise wakes our boy. His crying tugs at my heartstrings, but thankfully, I hear Connie calming him down.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I growl.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell the nanny how clumsy you are. But you’d better watch it, baby. You don’t want her thinking you threw it at me,” Chelsea sneers.
What a bitch. Is she suggesting to our nanny that I was trying to hurt her?
“We both know that won’t work. Connie’s witnessed your temper too many times.”
“Oh, piss off. You don’t know what she’d do for a few extra quid in her pocket.”
“I trust her more than I trust you.”
“You piece of shit. How dare you?”
Chelsea has no idea, but while I was touring without the family, Connie called me in a panic. Chelsea hadn’t come home all night and Connie had no idea where she was. It happened more than once and I was stuck in the middle by keeping Connie calm and giving Chelsea the freedom I thought she needed. What a sucker.
“Look at it from my point of view. This isn’t just one night out. It’s every night with fuck knows who, doing fuck knows what. I don’t trust you, and I should be able to trust my wife.”
“I’m getting bored with this shit. I’m so done with you and all this made-up crap. Don’t wait up.” She storms past, and if I gave a damn, I’d go after her. Since I don’t move a muscle, I’m guessing I don’t, but her crap attitude towards our son has blown my temper out of control.
As she slams the door, I shout, “Don’t bother coming back!”
I check on Ozzie. Connie is sitting beside him, his littlehand in hers. Shit, all that shouting must have really shaken him up.
“I’m sorry, kid,” I whisper as I enter the room and sit down at the end of his bed. He crawls on my lap and looks up at me with puffy red eyes. This is not a good environment to bring up a five-year-old.
“What happened, Daddy?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” I tell him, stroking his hair.
I glance over at Connie. Her brown eyes seem sympathetic as she looks towards me. This has got to be a difficult situation for any twenty-two-year-old to cope with, but she does an amazing job.
“Sorry you had to hear that. I hate putting you in this position. Are you okay?”
Running her fingers through her dark hair, her lips purse into a smile. “Yes, we’re fine, aren’t we, Oz?”
Ozzie nods silently, and I can’t hug him close enough. He calms my temper quicker than any bottle of whiskey ever could, so maybe now is the time to cut back and re-think the way I live my life. Some things are more important than partying and living the dream. I have my kid to think about. I need to keep my head straight from now on. That woman has fucked me over for the very last time.
By early morning, Chelsea still isn’t home, not that I expected her to be, and I can’t find the energy to care. I contemplate getting out of bed to get Ozzie ready for his day, but when I turn over, I’m surprised to see him lying next to me. He must have climbed in during the night. He’s done that before.
“Hey, buddy.” I place my hand on his arm, but he’s out for the count. Ozzie never sleeps in. This is a first. Last night must have scared the shit out of my little guy, so I’ll keep him with me today. As I’m thinking about it, I hear the news channel in the kitchen, which means Connie is up and about already.
“Good morning, Ozzie. Are you awake?” I hear her call out, so I throw the duvet over my sleeping boy, chuck on my joggers, and creep out to find her.
“Ozzie, this isn’t the time to play hide and seek,” she says, coming out of his room.
I close my bedroom door and I’m standing behind her. “Ozzie slept with me last night.” Her body jolts around to face me. “Sorry, Connie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
