She's referring to the fucking lecture I got at the wedding about how I never take anything seriously, and that it's time for me to stop fucking around—literally and figuratively—and find someone I can lean on and settle down. And for about the thousandth time, they brought up that I didn't go to theuniversity they picked out for me and how disappointing it was. But I couldn't leave Nolan. Who would take care of him?
The entire event felt like a fucking roast.
And guess what? I didn't take anything they said seriously. This has nothing to do with them.
"You've already met him—it's Nolan."
"Dax…" she shakes her head.
"What?" I start a third cup of coffee.
"Nolan cannot be your boyfriend. He can't make you better."
"You're wrong about that."
"No, I'm not, Dax. He's barely functional in society. And he bit a bird's head off once."
"Why does everyone keep saying that? It never happened."
"Because itdidhappen! I'm pretty sure there's a YouTube video somewhere."
"Yeah, okay. Send me the link." I roll my eyes and grab all three mugs.
"Why do you have three coffees?" Juliette asks. "Who else is here?"
"My girlfriend."
"Dax…" she throws her hands up, exasperated. "Youcannothave a girlfriend and a boyfriend."
I shrug, heading toward the stairs. "Well, I do. I don't know what to tell you."
"I'm telling Mom."
"Juliette, I don't care."
"You should care! They're going to cut you off, Dax. I know you think they're joking, but they're not. You don't hear whatthey say when you're not around. They're tired of you acting like a petulant child."
"That's ridiculous. I'm clearly a petulant grown man."
"That's not funny. You're not a teenager—no one thinks it's funny anymore."
"Well, you should have raised me better," I tell her. "Pull the stick out of your ass and have a great fucking day, Jules."
As I make my way upstairs, the door slams. I turn, watching through the front windows as Juliette gets into her car and drives off.
Juliette is wrong about Nolan, but the 'cut you off' threathasbeen coming up more often lately, and I don't fucking like it. At all.
I push the bedroom door open with my shoulder and set the coffees down just before Saige rolls over in bed.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey, pretty girl." I hand her a coffee and sit at the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"A little sore, but good."
"I think we should go out for breakfast—or I guess it would be lunch now—when Nolan finishes working out. You can wear whatever disguise you need to so people don't find out you're madly in love with me."
"I better make it a good one, then. I wouldn't want anyone to think that."
