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Girls, go put on your shoes, please.
The kids hustle upstairs, which is good.
Trying to take them could
come down to blows.
“Not without Brad’s permission.”
The cobra strikes quickly. I don’t
know who you
think you are, but
I’ll do as I please with my daughters.
“No, I don’t think you will. You lost that
privilege when you
walked out the door.
Now let’s give Brad a call, okay?”
You are awfully possessive of someone
else’s children. She
looks me up and
down. And you don’t dress like hired help.
My face heats, but I stand my
ground. “One call
will settle this.
Let’s go into the kitchen and make it.”
It’s a Short Conversation
Brad is on his way home.
Angela sits at the kitchen
table, waiting. The girls
bound into the room, all
giggles. I think I’m jealous.
I know I’m jealous when
Brad walks through the
door. The look on his face
