Page 88 of A Simple Life

“Hi.”

I glanced at my watch. “We have to leave in about twenty minutes. Where’s Momma?”

“Right here.”

I looked over my shoulder to see Quinn in the corner. She was watching us quietly.

“Everything okay?”

Abby leaned closer. “Momma and me talked while you were sleeping.”

I was glad they’d had some time to discuss what had happened earlier. “I see.”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“No, you’re not.”

“But I won’t punch people.”

“Good plan.”

She dropped her voice, covering her mouth, as if telling me a secret. “You’re not supposed to teach me no more bad words, Farmer John. Momma says I’m like a parrot.”

I had to contain my smile. My bad words had been used perfectly today, but I knew I couldn’t say that. “Momma is right,” I said seriously. “No more punching or bad words.”

Then Abby smiled. “But Momma is going to put me in real karate classes!”

“Well, that’s a good idea.”

“I think another good idea is we get ready to go,” Quinn stated.

Abby scrambled off my chest. “I’ll get my shoes!”

I sat up. “She seems fine.”

“You were right, I think. She is fine. We talked, and I’m leaving it alone now.”

I stood and pulled her off the sofa. “Good. Can we forget about him and go back to the birthday celebrations?”

She smiled at me. “Yes.” She patted my chest. “Are you okay? I mean seeing, ah, her?”

“The only thing I thought when I saw her was how grateful I was not to be him. And once I knew who he was, I decided he deserved whatever she did. I hope she drains him dry.”

“Even after your warning?”

I chuckled. “She’ll sweet-talk her way out of it. But at least I would have made her sweat a little. And he deserves what he gets. Between the epic junk-punch from Abby and the one coming from her eventually, he’s in for a world of pain.”

Amusement danced in her eyes. “Couldn’t happen to a better asshole.”

I nodded. “Cooties.”

She giggled. “Full of ’em.”

“How they met, I have no idea, but she has obviously recreated herself again. And this time, he was the idiot that fell for it. I think they’re both going to suffer.”

“She’s pretty,” Quinn offered. “He likes that.”

I shook my head. “She’s hard and fake. She might have the outside package he is looking for, but inside, she is a cesspool of greed and selfishness.” I trailed my fingers down her cheek. “You’re real. Beautiful—inside and out. There is nothing fake about you. And I love you.”