AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Just take my word for it. I’m not father material.” I waved a hand. I wouldn’t trust me with a fucking houseplant. “What about a wife? Ever had one of those?”
“Almost.” He scratched the damp beer label off his bottle.
“Your baby mama?” I asked.
He nodded. “What about you?”
I thought about Duffy. It seemed insane to count her as anything other than a headache. But that was exactly what she was about to become. Though I wasn’t going to divulge any more information about our lives without her consent after my little stunt in the subway yesterday.
“Never been married,” I said finally.
Charlie balled the damp beer label into a wad. “We should do this again sometime.”
“Talk about depressing shit?” I took out my rolling kit, and he gave me a funny look again.
“Do projects together,” he explained. “Gotta keep busy.”
“Dunno what you’re talking about. I had a great time watching Jamie Spinner.”
“Jerry Springer.”
Maybe he did have a point.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DUFFY
I forgot the bloody tacos.
That, in itself, wasn’t even the fifteenth most terrible thing to happen to me today. But considering everything went wrong from the moment I opened my eyes—other than the proposal video disappearing from YouTube—that was my tipping point. The forgotten tacos.
I’d only noticed when I walked into my empty flat and my stomach made a sound eerily similar to a bear’s yawn.
Feed me, you daft cow.
But I had nothing to feed it with, because I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten because I’d gone to three job interviews that day. All of them ended prematurely, with none indicating any interest. Either my meltdown video had done the rounds and landed on my potential employers’ desks or nobody wanted to hire someone without a visa. Likely, it was a combination of both.
I dragged my arse to the shower. Riggs wasn’t home yet. I could only imagine where he spent his days. Probably hopping between one model’s bed to the other. Breaking our marriage vows before he’d even uttered them.
Not that I minded one bit. Not even half a bit. Not even a quarter.
Oh, but he was so lovely. So very handsome and sort of funny in his own juvenile way. And he never made me feel like he had the upper hand in our relationship, the way BJ did. Never used my weaknesses against me.
Speaking of BJ, his sister Brenda (yes, I was aware that Brendan and Brenda were the tackiest names for siblings) called me today to let me know that he was safe and sound. Apparently, he’d called his family to let them know he was okay. Well, Iwasn’tokay. I was put on the back burner while he did his thing. I was starting to see that Riggs had a point. BJ was a total tosser.
The worst part was that I couldn’t channel my anger at BJ, because I had no way to contact him. He was undumpable. MIA. Which begged the question—how had I allowed myself to leave the door open for a comeback to someone who’d cut off all contact with me for six months without batting an eyelash?
Because you care about money more than you care about pride. And you care about never allowing your children to go through what you did. Walking with torn shoes to a one-hundred-K-a-year school.
Flashes of my treading through the vast corridors of Saint Anthony’s School for the Gifted in my tattered Mary Janes zinged through my mind. Back then, I had my real accent, my authentic, awkward sense of humor, and a dream to become an investigative journalist. I shook my head fiercely until the memories evaporated.
I stepped into the shower and lathered my body soap until bubbles ran down the expanse of my flesh. I turned the water to extra hot and closed my eyes, practicing deep, long breaths.
Everything is okay.
No. That seemed wrong.
Everythingwillbeokay.
