“Until we’re happy within ourselves, we’ll never find the thing that truly makes us happy.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That was extremely philosophical, Priest.”
“Believe me, I know exactly what people look like when they spend a lifetime chasing happiness outside of themselves,” he says with a crooked smile. “Comes with the territory of being a Catholic.”
Jordan’s phone pings, and he reaches into his jeans pocket to retrieve it.
“Sorry, it’s probably just work, I should check-” He stops short, his frown deepening as he stares at the phone. “What the fuck?”
“Is something wrong?”
“What thefuck?”
“Jordan!” I lean forward, alarmed at the look on his face. “Jordan, what happened?”
“Your husband just sent me a text,” Jordan says slowly, lifting his eyes to mine. “Congratulating me on last night’s game.”
He lifts his phone to show me the screen, and I stare at the words on the screen, glowing underneath Archie’s name.
Good game, mate. Proud of you.
“What the livingfuck is he playing at?”
Char sits at the kitchen counter, pouring hot water into a cup, her expression neutral and calm as I rage around the kitchen. Tank follows my every step, tongue lolling out of his mouth, not even reacting to my anger.
“He’s being a petty bitch as usual,” Char says, putting the kettle down and stirring sugar into my tea. “He’s got to remind everyone he exists.”
“I mean at least he’s alive, I guess? There’s still an outside chance of me fucking killing him when he dares show his face back here.” I boot a cushion across the room, and Tank chases after it with a delighted yip. “I swear to god, I am going to skin him alive.”
“Well, Jordan and I have the burial sorted, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“And poor Jordan!” I explode, resuming my pacing across the kitchen. “You should have seen his face! He was white as a ghost. Bloody typical Archie, he saw Jordan do well and he just had to swoop in and fucking make him insecure again.” I claw my fingers through my hair with a growl. “I hate him, I bloody hate him.”
“Come sit down and have your tea before you put holes in your floor.” Char perches on a stool and pats the one beside her.
But just as I sit down, my phone starts ringing. I snatch it up without looking properly at the screen, a decision I almost immediately regret.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Andrea bellows down the line at me. “How dare you not call me immediately, I have to find out from my bloody ex-husband?”
“And why in the fuck should I call you, you nasty old cow?”
Andrea makes a sort of strained gargling noise. “Howdareyou speak to me like that, I-”
“Has Archie called you? No. He hasn’t. So obviously, he don’t want to talk to you, or me, or his father, so get angry athimfor that. I haven’t done nothing, not to him, or to you. Don’t you dare call me and abuse me just because you raised your son to be a spoiled brat.”
“You classless little bitch,” Andrea spits out. “You know I’m getting him a divorce lawyer the second he comes back, and you won’t get a cent of his money.”
“Good job I don’t need his money then, isn’t it? I make plenty of my own, unlike you.”
“If only you could make your own children and actually keep a man.”
My face flushes with rage, and a sick feeling sinks into the pit of my stomach. “You’re a mean, vile old cunt, Andrea. Do not call me again.”
I hang up the phone, my hands shaking with rage, and I wobble over to the stool next to Char. She watches me carefully, reaching out to put a hand on my arm.
“Mother-in-law?”
I nod, wrapping my hands around the cup to try and warm them. “Yeah. Being her usual bitchy self.”
