Mortician felt as if he was in the fucking Twilight Zone. What the fuck had happened to his wife? He’d repeatedly asked himself that question. After not finding that answer a few weeks ago, he’d moved to the club. It only increased the divide between them.
“Bailey, I fucking love you. You so fucking gorgeous, you take my breath away every fucking time I look at you. No one,nothing, compares to you. No woman alive can ever take your fucking place in my heart, my life, or my bed. But we go around and around about the same fucking shit. You wearing me the fuck out. What the fuck do you want from me?”
“A new baby,” she said, an answer he should’ve expected because she’d become obsessed with another pregnancy. “I want another daughter. A better daughter—”
“There’s no better daughter than our girl, baby,” he told her, all the fight gone from him. “Harley need you. She need me. Don’t turn your back on her or try to replace her. Whether we have a new baby, another daughter, don’t take away the fact that Harley ours too.”
Bailey’s tear-filled eyes touched upon his chin, his lips, and his nose before meeting his gaze. “She apologized to me,” she started in a reasonable tone.
Wary, Mortician nodded.
“For disrespecting me. Not for turning into a miserable fucking slut.”
Mortician stared at her, a fucking stranger who looked like Bailey.
“Yourdaughter,” she spat, thrusting an accusatory finger at him. “A black daughter by a black man in a white club. Aren’t you fucking ashamed of her? I am. I’m the only black—”
“What the fuck is my mama-in-law?” Mortician growled. “The child of fuckingShrek? She black!”
“I am, too!”
“Congratulations for finally deciding that, but who gives a fuck? You fucking haven’t all the fucking years I knew you. All of a sudden, motherfucking fuckhead, miserable Lowman Jr., say some shit to you and you go off themotherfucking deep end? Sounding like a fucking raving lunatic bitch? Fuck you, Bailey. Ishouldfuck Kendall,” he snarled. “Johnnie made you feel wanted? Fuck you and him. Kendall did the same for me. At least she got fucking sense. You’ve lost your motherfucking mind. I never slept with Kendall. I never slept with Symphony. I never fucking wanted to sleep with Symphony. I—”
Her gasp interrupted him.
“Fuck, what now? What the fuck did I say this fucking time?”
“Do you want to sleep with Kendall?” she demanded.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Mortician thought over what he’d said. He was so fucking angry with Bailey, he just didn’t give a fuck, so he said, “Kendall the only woman who could make me betray you. Take that for what the fuck it’s worth. It don’t have nothing to do with her fucking color or her fucking hair or nothing buther. That’s what the fuck you wanted to hear? I fucking said it, so fuck you. Fuck you and Johnnie, Bailey. Fuck you.”
Glaring at her, he shoved back from the table and got to his feet.
“I love you, Lucas—”
Mortician could only take so much bullshit and he kicked the chair. “You a motherfucking liar. You don’t fucking love me. You sound like you hate my fucking ass. And let me tell you this, the way you feel aboutmydaughter makesme never want to look at your motherfucking ass again. In fucking life. Harley didn’t ask to come here.Wefucked up, you fucking bitch. Us. Not her. It was up to us to try to steer her from the fucking path she was taking and—”
She jumped to her feet and raced around to him, shoving him and catching him off guard. He stumbled back. “Go ahead, motherfucker! Blame me for what that bitch did. Blame me for Harley fucking Nardo and Ryan.”
“Fuck you. I do fucking blame you, bitch. I do. It’sallyour motherfucking fault, Bailey. All of it. She wasn’t a fucking slut or a bitch then. She was the excuse you needed for your bad fucking behavior. To shit on me and let her shit on me, too.” He stepped away from her, storming to the other side of the room. “This is what the fuck I mean. This rehashing shit. You looking for another response? Maybe I might feel differently? Yeah, I fucking hate you. How’s that? That’s different, right, baby? I hate the fucking sight of you.”
Did he? He didn’t know. He was just so hurt and devastated because of what Bailey was handing down to him and to Harley. He could blame Johnnie, but that motherfucker planted a seed, he didn’t grow that fucking tree that sprouted such derision and resentment. That was all Bailey.
“You hate me?”
Her broken sob floated across the room where he stood looking out of the window, notseeing anything, and almost brought Mortician to his knees. But, fuck, they never resolved a motherfucking thing. Bailey would tell him stories about couples who rehashed the same bullshit over and over. She didn’t do couples’ therapy—if she did she would’ve needed to hand over her fucking license—but she had colleagues in the field. Even therapists got frustrated when a couple was stuck on thesame motherfucking thing.
“You hate me?” she asked again, sounding so fucking pitiful.
He turned. She was a short distance away, on the other side of the couch, her head hung and her shoulders slumped, her thick, dark hair curtaining her.
“I love you,” she told him in that same tone.
“If you hated my fucking ass, I guess you’d fucking murder me.” She was destroying him emotionally.
“You want to sleep with Kendall?”
Fuck, he hadn’t meant those words. He was just so fucking frustrated. “No, Bailey. She’s like a sister to me.” Who he’d kissed a few days ago. Or she’d kissed him. They’d kissed each other. He glanced away, wishing he could regret that kiss.
