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“And watching your daughter.”
That gives me pause for a second. Then, “Watching my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I ask, my anger — impossibly — rising more.
“Because you weren’t here.”
I breathe deep, trying to control my temper. “Well, Ipaysomeone to watch her. When I’m not here.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So again,” another deep breath, “why are you watching my daughter when I have someone else to watch her?”
“That someone else,” Cami says with a tight smile, “has a name.”
I grit my teeth. “Where is she?”
Cami blinks innocently. “Who?”
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Jesus.
Can I kill my sister?
“Where the fuck is she? The one who gets paid to watch my daughter.”
Cami hates my phrasing.
Which is exactly why I said it.
Among other reasons that aren’t important right now.
In any case, I’m not going to deny that I love pissing her off.
“She had to go home,” Cami finally tells me.
“She had to go home.”
“Yes, her brother’s hurt.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask instantly.
Concerned.
Actually I think I sound overly concerned, but right now, I don’t fucking care.
She has two younger brothers — in addition to two younger sisters — and from what I’ve gathered from Cami’s ramblings, she’s the one who takes care of them. Mostly because their mother’s flighty bordering on irresponsible.
Needless to say, I fucking hate her mother.
I hate her mother for leaning a little too much on her.
I mean she’s what, nineteen years old? She should be out there living her life, partying or whatever the fuck college kids do. I was in college not too long ago but because of soccer and Sophie, I don’t remember a lot of it. But I do know college kids are irresponsible and have the time of their life.
