Crossing her arms under her chest, she squeezes her tits to the point of nearly popping out of her shirt. The top button—one of only a few actually buttoned—threatens to pop, but it’s not enough. Hell, she could stand here completely naked, and I wouldn’t touch her.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Positive.”
I just want her to leave. What I found out last night isn’t something I could ever go to Chanel with. She wouldn’t care. It would turn into me pleasing her under the guise ofdistracting mefrom my problem, but it wouldn’t be about me.
Wanting her to leave and never come back is heavy, though. Like a death. For over a decade, Chanel was my world. Everything I thought I wanted, and part of me mourns that chapter ending. But only part.
“I understand.” Giving me doe eyes, she sighs. “Can I get a goodbye kiss?”
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but there’s a closure needed for both of us. The part of me that feels the sadness of this coming to an end gives in.
The moment our lips touch, I feel it. I should have let her come inside, but it felt safer to have this conversation in the open. Until I realize she fucking played me.
Pulling away, I turn around to see Misty and Bernie standing across the street watching us. And Chanel fucking saw her walk up. She wanted this.
Bitch.
Chapter Thirty-One
Misty
Watching Zeppelin kiss Chanel felt like a kick right in the vagina. How could I be so stupid and let him in? I knew he loved her—not me—but I thought we had something. He said we did, and I believed him. When he said he wanted Bernie and me, I trusted him.
I fell for it. I knew better, and I fell for it.
“Misty—”
“You stay away from my mom!” Bernie screams. “Go kiss your… whore!”
The word shocks me. I know I should scold her for using that kind of language, but I’m stunned. How the hell does she even know the wordwhore?
“Let’s go inside,” I say, guiding Bernie up onto the porch.
I knew telling her about Zep and me together was a bad idea, but she wanted it so much. And so did I. But we ended up just where I thought we would. She’s just as upset as I am. Actually, she’s probably more so because my anger dulls the pain right now.
“Learn to muzzle your brat,” Chanel calls out.
The bitch can have the man I’m in love with, but she does not get to call my daughter anything. Even her name. “Baby, go inside. Now.”
Thankfully, my tone tells Bernie it’s time to listen because she does.
Once that door closes, I whip around and glare at Chanel. “Don’t ever call my daughter a brat.” I storm across the street and get in her face. “In fact, don’t ever talk about her at all.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t the worst thing I could have called her. I could have called her—”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Zep growls in a tone I’ve never heard before. Not even the night he fought with Wylie in the bar.
From the look on Chanel’s face, she hasn’t either. She looks as scared as I feel, and I take a step back as she fumbles in front of him. “Z—”
“Get the fuck out of here before Misty beats your face into the curb for even thinking whatever you thought was okay to say.”
“I didn’t—”
“You fucking did. Just like you always do. You think I’ll be there to back you up and take care of things, but I’m not that guy for you anymore. Get your ass back in your car and fucking leave.”
Swallowing, she slowly backs off the porch and walks quickly towards the park. As quickly as her heels allow, which cause a few stumbles further down the sidewalk that makes me happy. She never looks back, which is preferable because I will curb stomp the bitch.
