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If I needed proof that men were from fucking Mars and women were from Venus, I had it.
“Do you want to start a fight? Is that it?” he asked, the words coming out slowly as if he were still trying to reason it out.
“Daddy’s so smart when he wants to be, Jake, isn’t he?” I crooned, my gaze on Finn now.
“Fine,” was his gruff reply as he started to get to his feet. “If that’s the way you want it, we’ll go on Sunday.
“If you want to set the dinner table on fire, throw her roasted chicken into the trash, and grab the TV off the wall, we’ll go.” His arms flailed up into the air in a move I was starting to see more and more often, as if he were washing his hands of trying to understand me. “If that’ll make you feel better, we’ll even drive over her fucking flowerbeds—”
“That sounds like a trip.”
“A trip to the ER,” he ground out, shaking his head. “I’ll tell Senior to expect us.” He stormed off, but I heard him mutter, “And to expect fucking fireworks too.”
Though Jake jolted when he slammed the door, my lips curved. “We’re gonna have a blast on Sunday, aren’t we, baby? Daddy’s got the best ideas.”
Just thinking of our Range Rover sliding into her beloved flowerbeds was enough to ease my mood.
I didn’t see why Lena shouldn’t suffer some of my misery too.
