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“So you hit him?”
“Yes. That’s how on edge I am.”
Inessa scoffed, “Shut up. On edge. You might be with them, but you’re not with me.”
“I won’t be like my father.”
“Then don’t be like him,” she screamed at me, her voice all the louder because of how quiet she’d been before. “Don’t beat your children up. Don’t torment them into being mobsters. Don’t cheat on me and have a child with another woman! It’s that simple.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry for shouting but you’ve pissed me off.” Her hand slammed down against the counter. “In fact, no, I’m not fucking sorry.
“I put up with you steam cleaning everything that stays in the same place for longer than a minute, and I’ve watched you reorganize our kitchen cabinets twice this month, and do I say anything? No. I’m a good wife. A great one. You’re lucky to have me.
“You donotget to say shit like you’re leaving me because of the things thatIput up with without argument, do you hear me?”
“Inessa, the baby—”
“Fuck. You. Eoghan. Don’t bring up Bump when you’re the reason I’m mad in the first place. Don’t you dare get on your high horse when I draft your brothers in to make you see goddamn sense.
“You will not hurt me. You will put me on a pedestal, and sometimes, I’ll want to get down, and if you don’t let me, don’t worry—I’m not your goddamn mother. I will jump and I will do whatever I want because what you’re not taking into account when you’re so fucking terrified about turning into your dad is thatI’m. Not. Lena.
“I’m not my mother either.
“You think I’d let you treat me that way? No. You think I’d let you treat Bump like our fathers treated us? NO. N. O. I wouldn’t.
“So, when you talk about leaving me, health aside, pregnancy aside, it disrespects me. You’re thinking I’m that same old eighteen-year-old girl you married again, but I’m not. Do you hear me?”
Her words bit into me like bullets.
And that was what I needed.
Bullets.
That was my love language.
That was what I knew.
What I understood.
“I hear you.”
By contrast to her anger, my softly voiced reply was almost silent.
Her eyes narrowed upon me and, with a defiance that made me hide my smile, she picked up a piece of cake and took a massive bite.
As I watched her chew, she continued staring me down, then she proved again why this was the woman I’d chosen to love.
She delved into the box, selected the smallest piece, and said, “Here. You can have this slice.”
So, I did.
I sat on the stool at her side and ate my cake, drank her tea, and we stopped talking about stupid shit and talked instead about the things that mattered.
Us.
