A crowd has started to form around my little jam stand to watch the scene unfold, but I’m on a roll. There’s no stopping me now.
“Sadie and I have been out of your house for months, Earl. How many times have you called to say hello to her? How many times have you asked me about her, or where she’s living, or what she wants for her next birthday? None. And you know what, Earl? Sadie hasn’t asked about you either. She doesn’t notice when you don’t show up because she never expected you to in the first place. That is the relationship you built with your daughter. One where you’re complete strangers and she is the one who is going to suffer for it.
But don’t worry, Earl. Ivy and I will be here to support Sadie. She might not know the love of a father, but she still has two parents who will walk through fire for her. You know who has been there atevery game and every recital and every practice, sitting next to me and showing up for our kid? Ivy. You know who Sadie asks for when she has a cold and wants to cuddle? Ivy. And who is going to be in the delivery room with me to welcome Little Bean into the world when they’re born? Ivy. Not you. Ivy is more of a parent to Sadie and Little Bean than you’ll ever be. So yeah, I might be missing one game today so that I can make some money to support our kids, but you’re going to miss their entire fucking lives. And you have no one to thank for that but yourself.”
My skin is on fire, and my breathing is labored. Even though I’m pissed as hell and my lungs are burning like I just finished running a marathon, I’ve never felt better. I almost expect a slow clap to erupt from our audience, but this is real life and the good people of the Fox Hole Farmer’s Market have the decency to at least pretend they aren’t listening intently as I give my ex-husband the verbal beatdown of a lifetime.
I’ve never spoken to Earl this way, except maybe that day at the shop when I told him I was pregnant. I’ve always just quietly taken his shit and gone on with my life because it was easier that way. But with every passing moment, I just keep getting angrier and angrier.
Maybe he was trying to bait me by questioning my devotion to our child, and maybe I fell for it, but fuck. It feels so goddamn good to lay into him for what a shit fucking parent he has been all these years, and especially to do so in front of the crowd of people straining their ears to listen to my outburst. Earl treating me like shit might have been the worst-kept secret in Fox Hole for the last decade, but I have always made excuses for his absence at Sadie’s events. Not for his sake, but for hers.
The last thing Sadie ever needed to hear was me berating her father around town for being a deadbeat.
But now it’s all out on the table, and he can try to put on his stupid fucking mask and parade his girlfriends around town like he’s the…
Well, like he’s The Earl of Auto or something, but this can of worms can’t be unopened.
Earl’s pinched face is fire engine red, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he stares back at me, wordless. Good. I hope he has nothing to say. There is no defending himself, and I wouldn’t hear it even if he tried.
Blondie at his side seems to shift away from Earl, putting space between their bodies as she gives me an uncomfortable look of something that resembles sympathy. I hope she gets herself away from Earlsoon and finds someone who actually gives a damn about anything besides himself.
“Delilah. That is enough. If you want to talk about our family, we can do it in private.”
“Our family, Earl, not yours,” Ivy says, looping her arm around my waist and pulling me close. The scent of her body spray fills my nostrils and makes my knees wobble. Her possessive hold on me is so infuriatingly sexy, I almost forget that I’m supposed to be angry right now.
“Your family? Are you the one getting Delilah pregnant? I thought you just liked to dress like a man. But I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if you were packing a dick and balls in those ugly shorts.”
“Want me to whip it out, Earl? I know for a fact that what I’ve got in my pants is a thousand times better than the dick you’ve been dipping into half the female population of Eastern Tennessee. Yeah, you’re such a big man leaving sperm everywhere you go, but have you ever brought a woman to orgasm with your little pecker?”
“Oh, fuck off, Ivy. This has nothing to do with you. Just because you’ve wanted to fuck my wife since you were teenagers but never got the chance and now you’re a lonely, pissed-off?—”
Earl starts to hurl a disgusting slur at Ivy, but I barely hear it. In fact, I’m not sure he even gets theentire four-letter word out of his crusty thin mouth before Ivy has my chin pinched between her thumb and her forefinger, bringing my lips to hers in a kiss that seems to stop time around me. It can’t last more than a few seconds, but the seconds when Ivy’s mouth is pressed against mine feel like a lifetime.
Kissing my best friend feels perfectly natural, like it was always meant to be. Like the dominoes have been tipped and are now cascading in a meticulously formed, artistic and scientific line in perfect succession. From the graze of her teeth along my lower lip to the soft indent of her fingertips on my hip to the way my hands glide up over her chest and link around her neck, every part of this kiss is exactly what a kiss should be. Like this simple touch is everything I was missing and all the things I didn’t know I could want.
The moment that Ivy pulls back, I’m leaning in for more, unable to stop myself from planting another peck on her plump bottom lip. Her eyes meet mine for just a millisecond, but I’m able to read the question in her gaze because it’s part of a language that I’ve only ever been able to speak with Ivy.
Was that okay?Ivy’s eyes ask mine.
Was it okay? Ivy, that kiss changed my fucking life. I want more. I never want to stop. We should have been kissing this whole damn time. Can we quit our jobs andlive off your inheritance from Grandma Millie for the rest of our lives so we never, ever have to stop kissing?My eyes answer.
At least I hope they do. I’m pretty sure I’m too lip-drunk and strung out on adrenaline to coherently speak our secret language, but Ivy seems to get the gist that I’m on board with at least this one kiss.
“That’s right, Earl,” Ivy says smugly, turning back to my ex and the woman who has strayed even further from his side and is now looking at me with hearts in her eyes like that kiss was the cutest thing she’s ever seen.
Damn, I think I like her.
“I wanted Delilah, so you know what I did? I showed up. I was there for her. I put her first. I take care of Sadie. I know your daughter’s blood type and all of her allergies and every single one of her teachers' and camp counselor’s names. I know what she and her mom like to eat for breakfast and the books they read before bed. I stepped up, and now I’ve got your wife and your kids. They’re mine, Earl. And there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. You can demand a paternity test for the baby in Delilah’s belly and you can walk around Fox Hole making everyone call you the Earl and acting like your shit don’t stink, but guess what? I won, Earl. Delilah is mine. Your kids are mine, and the only personaround here getting called ‘Daddy’ is me when I’ve got your wife underneath me in our bed making sounds you could only ever dream of getting out of her.”
Earl gasps like a fainting debutante, and it’s like I can see the gears in his head turning as he tries to think of something—anything—he can say that would come back at me and Ivy after this. The surrounding crowd is no longer pretending not to listen, but actively watching Earl sputter and fail to turn over his engine to retort. He only manages to mutter something gross and homophobic before storming off.
But it seems that the universe and mother nature are on our side. They send a gust of wind so sudden and strong that the baseball cap on Earl’s head is blown away, revealing a bald spot on the back of his head that resembles a short, fat penis with three balls covered in faded pink pubes.
Artie can’t hold back his laughter any longer, and while he is holding up his hand to Ivy for a high-five, Blondie takes a step closer to me.
“I am so sorry,” she says, her thick Tennessee accent dripping with warm honey. “Honestly, I had no idea he was such a loser. He told me he was divorced, but the rest of that stuff? Serves me right for always falling for those devil-tongued sweet talkers.”Blondie shakes her head and begins rummaging in the bum bag resting on her ample bosom.
“It’s about time I learned that men ain’t good for a damn thing. Maybe I need to think about finding myself a good woman like you’ve got here. I’ll try anything once.” She shrugs, and even though her words are borderline offensive, somehow it’s clear that she is nothing but sincere in what she says. “Anyway, I’m Brandy. I own a hair salon in Bear Creek. We do nails and eyelash extensions, too. If you and your daughter ever want to come in for a girl’s day, your cut and color are on me.”
