Right?
Forty
Zach
“Well, clearly you’re not paying close enough attention to our daughter and spending too much time shacked up with your new slut, because she certainlydoeshave a Facebook.Anda Snapchat.” Her tone is harsh and accusatory, and I’m knocked off balance for a second.
What the fuck does she mean Abigail has social media accounts that I’m not aware of, but somehow she does? I’m reeling with this information.
Jesus fuck.
Why.Why does Brittanee have to show up like this? She’s been MIA for the better part of two years, and now… now that I’ve taken a chance on someone, she decides to magically pop up outof whatever hole she’s been hiding in?Goddammit.I don’t have the fucking patience for her this early in the goddamn morning.
I glance over my shoulder toward where I’d left Louise, not surprised to see that she’s disappeared from view. Dammit. I need to get Britt out of here so I can get back to my girl.
And I need to have a talk with my eldest about her secret social media accounts.
“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting your sleepover,” Britt grits out, and I turn back toward her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shakes her head. “So is this why the girls haven’t been home when I stop by? You’re shipping them off to someone else so you can get your dick wet?”
Stepping forward, I force her to step back and I slam the door behind me. Because Louise doesn’t need to hear the trash coming out of my soon to be ex-wife’s mouth. “You’re not even supposed to be stopping by. Jesus Christ, Brittanee.” Pointing to the minivan parked in my driveway, I tell her, “You’re done. You need to go. Now.”
“I want to talk to my daughters,” she demands, but descends the stairs and heads toward her vehicle. “You can’t keep them from me.”
Crossing my arms over my naked chest to ward off the chill in the October air, I bobble my head, pulling my lips tight in a smirk that I know will just piss her off more. “Actually, that emergency custody order I filed that the judge granted says I can do exactly that. Until we go back to court—which you keep postponing, by the way—that order stays in effect.”
“This is bullshit, Zach, and you know it.”
“Bye,” I grunt, nodding down at her before I turn and go back into the house. I don’t wait at the door to make sure she leaves.
I need to find my girl.
Striding through the house, I find her in the bedroom, pulling on a pair of my sweatpants. She looks up when I enter the room,startled, those green eyes going wide. She stands up straight, too fast, almost falling over in her haste to yank the sweats up and over her ass—the ass I didn’t get nearly enough time with this morning while it was bare beneath my damn t-shirt.
“I’m s-so sorry,” she mumbles, dropping those eyes to the floor. Fuckkk. “I didn’t mean to make things worse by being here—”
“Hey,” I murmur gently, stepping forward and taking her cheeks between both of my palms, cupping her jaw and tilting her head up so that she’s looking up at me. My eyes bounce between hers, and I can see the doubt and suspicion and fear clouding them. “I’m sorry that she showed up like that. It’s classic Brittanee. She’s trying to cause discourse; it’s the only way she knows how to try and control what’s happening. Don’t let her get between us, okay?”
Her hands come up to cover mine where they’re cupping her cheeks, and her fingers curl around mine. Blond brows pull together to knit above her eyes in worry. “She’s right though. I shouldn’t be here, making you choose between the girls being home or-or me—”
“My girls have sleepovers at my mother’s house every few weeks. They have since they were little. They love going over there, my mother loves having time with her granddaughters, and I get a little time to recharge, too. It’s nothing new, and she knows it. Again, she’s just trying to instill suspicion and lay a guilt trip on me… and you. I’m sorry she’s dragged you into this,” I whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss to that spot between her brows, hoping to release some of the tension there. Her fingers tighten around mine, clinging desperately. “She’s known for exaggerating everything, and if it’s not an exaggeration, it’s an outright lie. Don’t listen to her,” I plead, lowering my mouth to hers. I kiss her, slowly, so fucking slowly. “Don’t let her ugliness win. Stay here with me, please.”
She nods inside my hands, kissing me back. “Locked in?”
Smoothing my thumbs over her cheeks, I whisper against her mouth, “Locked in, baby.”
Forty-One
Louise
Ileft Zach’s after a delayed breakfast. He’d sat me on his lap—despite my protests—and honestly, it was exactly the kind of closeness I needed after the eventful morning. After he made sure I ate enough, he headed out to pick up the girls from Lydia, and to have a much-needed chat with Abigail about the alleged social media accounts he had no idea about.
Taking the longest, hottest shower known to mankind back at my place—I really should let him fix my showerhead—I get ready for a shift at Bliss Garden. It’s a Sunday in October and our fall schedule is in full force. Our pumpkin patch is open for picking, we have tractor pulled hayrides on the hour, and Tessa’s beena baking fiend with her homemade apple pie donuts rolled in cinnamon sugar.
But to be real… I’m still reeling a little from the interaction with his ex this morning.
Dressing in a pair of wide legged black jeans and a black Bliss Garden sweatshirt to offset the chill in the air, I tie my hair back into two Dutch braids for something different.
Stopping at my favorite local coffee shop, I park along the street and passThree Blossom, the floral shop Willow runs with her two sisters. I wave at Willow’s sister, Val, who waves back with a smile before dropping her eyes to her work.
