How do I make him leave?
Frankie:
I’ll tow his ass out.
Ruby:
Or maybe see how this plays out? Let’s say his intentions are good. How bad would it be if he left you alone for the most part but provided an extra set of hands when you needed them?
Ruby:
Large, strong, capable hands. Probably a bit callused from all the manual labor.
Frankie:
Gross.
Ruby:
I can’t help it. Pregnancy makes me horny. This baby is killing me, and I’ve got months to go.
Frankie:
Maybe make staying there uncomfortable for him. That might encourage him to leave.
Ruby:
Yeah, send him out to fetch things and call him in for the blowout diapers.
Frankie:
Make him mow the lawn.
Evie:
I’m not making him do yardwork.
Ruby:
You should. Maybe the gods will smile upon you and he’ll take his shirt off while he does it.
Frankie:
It’s forty degrees out.
Ruby:
Just let me live. You’ve got a hot guy camped out on your lawn and at your beck and call. Accept this gift from the universe and focus on one of the other million things you have on your plate.
Frankie:
Or I’ll get the shotgun, just let me know.
Jeez,my friends were no help. It was either sex or violence with those two, and I needed to be clear-headed about this.
I wiped Vincent’s mouth, shoved my boob back into my tank top, and put him on my shoulder so I could coax a burp out of him. Silently, I walked the house, patting and rubbing his back and maybe spying on Jasper in the backyard.
Luckily, there was just enough space to peek through the curtains without moving them. And outside, the flood lights were on, bathing him in a hazy glow.
