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She turned to look at me. “Why?”
I shook my head. “I already told you.”
“Then can I stay at your house?”
“Molloy.” I released a pained sigh. “Don’t.”
“Please.” Reaching across the console, she placed her hand on my jean-clad thigh. “I know I’m holding back, okay? I know. I’m just…” Releasing a pained growl, she shook her head and reached a hand up to swat what I presumed was a tear from her cheek. “Ugh, why am I such a fucking girl?”
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Molloy?”
“I’m being stupid.”
Throwing on my indicator, I waited for a break in traffic before pulling off to the side of the road and turning on the hazard lights. Killing the engine, I turned to face her. “Okay, you need to start talking to me.”
“Really, I’m fine,” she sobbed, batting tears left, right, and center as they dripped onto her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” she half laughed, half sobbed as tears continued to fall from her long lashes. “See?” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hands, she smiled across the seat at me and said, “I’m totally fine.”
“Jesus. No, you’re not.” Pushing my seat back as far as it went, I unfastened my seatbelt and reached over to unfasten hers before pulling her into my arms. “Come here.”
“I’m fine,” she full-on cried now, sobbing uncontrollably as she buried her face in my neck. “This is ridiculous.”
“You’re not pregnant, are ya?” I joked, wrapping her up in my arms.
“Could you imagine?” she joked back, still crying.
“Fuck no.” I chuckled. “I think I’d rather open the door and lie down in the traffic.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not,” she replied, laughing almost manically before another batch of sobs racked through her. “It’s probably just period hormones or something.”
34
I’m an Addict, You’re a Bitch
AOIFE
My pitiful attempt at telling Joey about our little situation had resulted in him indirectly admitting that he would rather play with traffic on the M8 motorway than father a child with me. Joking or not, it wasn’t a risk that I was willing to take, especially when Friday night traffic was so heavy.
By the time we made it back to his house, I was fresh out of tears and he was fresh out of patience.
“I don’t know, Molloy,” he said, parking the car after I finished giving him a detailed rundown on the woes of womanhood and premenstrual syndrome, literally anything to buy myself more time from having to tell him the truth. “It’s not my area of expertise, but surely they can give you a prescription for that.”
“You think I need a prescription for mood swings?”
“No, not a prescription, per se,” he hedged, climbing out of the car. “More like a light tranquilizer.”
“Well, you’d know all about those,” I huffed, stepping out and slamming my door shut. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Forget about it being light, a horse tranquilizer should do it,” he muttered, slinging an arm over my shoulder. “Come on, cranky.”
Sighing, I slid my hand into his back pocket, leaned into his side, and said, “I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you.”
“Meh. I’m an addict, you’re a bitch,” he mused, pulling me close. “No relationship is perfect.”
I laughed. “It works, though, right?”
