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24
Izzy
It’s On
As soon as the front door slams open and a car-load of grown ass men who don’t know how to be quiet stomp into the house, Kit and I look up from the couch with rolling eyes.
“Come inside, we’ll clean you up before you go home.” Jim’s voice is the equivalent of a toddler trying to hide a mess from his mom.
A loud whisper. Stupid.
I turn back to Kit and grin.
We sat down only twenty minutes ago after she made me coffee and baked a cake while I slept. I probably love her more than I love Jim, or even my daughter at this point.
Last night was bad.
Bad,bad.
So cake and coffee and a sleep in are the equivalent to a wedding proposal. And I’m screamingyes, yes, a thousand times yes.I don’t need a man. I need Kit.
Bean refused to sleep last night. She didn’t want to be held. She didn’t want to be fed. She didn’t want company. She didn’t want to be alone. She was miserable and mean, and I swear, Jim and I had our first, honest to God parenting night.
Then when I broke down in tears from pureI-can’t-do-this-anymoreexhaustion, Jim packed them up and took them for a drive. I was anxious about him driving tired for about three-point-two seconds, then I fell flat on my face and woke to Kit holding my baby and a wonderful tray of coffee and cake.
Everyone was safe, I had slept, and Bean was no longer crying.
Of course I’ll marry her.
“Oh God, oh no!” Jim’s toddler whisper turns to flat out panic, which has Kit and I snapping to our feet in an instant. I balance a sleeping Bean in the crook of my arm, and together, we walk toward the front room expecting to find someone’s head on fire.
But it’s worse, so much worse.
“What the hell happened?” Kit roars. I jump from the venom in her voice. Bean, bless her fricken heart, sleeps right on through it. Kit storms toward a rapidly backing up group of men. With strong hands, she grabs Jacks face as Bobby steps back with his hands raised in surrender.
“It’s not what it looks like, Princess.”
I shake my head at the ground. Rookie mistake; Jim should never have spoken first. He should know this by now.
Dumbass.
“What,exactly, is it, James?”
He holds his hands up between them. “There was an incident.”
“Why have Jack – and Jon! – got busted faces?”
“Well, it’s just that–”
“And why do you have bleeding knuckles?”
“Well–”
“James, you better fucking answer me.”
“Kitten, don’t swear in front of the baby.”
And there it is. I got the man for two weeks, and then he committed suicide.
