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“But, babe…”
Unlatching Bean, my attention is drawn down as Iz picks the chunky thighed baby up and starts patting her back. Extending my hands in request, Iz smiles and passes the gassy baby to me and works to fix her top. “So… your song’s sorted. When’s the fight?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Bobby snaps. “The song isnotsorted, and while we’re going, neither is the fight. We need to make these decisions together.” He takes Kit’s chin and pulls it around so their eyes meet. “Baby. No.”
She smiles playfully. “We did discuss it, remember? Way back when you told me to train. Then you put me into a fight I didn’t want. All part of your‘let’s empower Kit’bullshit.”
“But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to be empowered anymore.”
She snorts. “Too bad. It’s done, but if you ask nicely, I might get you tickets to the fight to watch.”
“I’ll train you,” Jon rumbles distractedly. “You don’t need Nancy. I’ve got your back.”
Bobby glares, but Kit flashes a beautiful smile. “Thank you.”
“So, let’s get started.” Iz claps her hands like she’s head cheerleader readying for a basket toss.
I look down curiously. “You’re going in?”
“Sure. I have med clearance. No time like the present. Plus, I really want to spar. Kit will make a good punching bag.”
My shoulders droop with disappointment. I was hoping we’d have a quiet day at home. I’m tired as fuck, and dammit, she should be, too.
“Come on, we’ll do a couple hours, then we’ll go home and order a pizza. You can train, too.”
“What about Bean?”
“I’ll look after her,” Jack says easily. “I’ve got dibs onnotrolling with Jim.”
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“Twittersphere says you’re filthy with STD’s, dude. Theory is that you got them from your freaky sex club.”
Slapping a hand over her mouth, Izzy draws in a shocked breath. “Oh my God. She did it. She sold the story!”
I laugh. “Does it really say that?”
“It really says that,” he snorts. He looks down at his cell. “The basic theme is that you were out with a beautiful, high paid escort last night–”
Kit fist bumps Iz. “That’s my girl.”
I shake my head.
“… apparently, you were discussing some freaky shit over dinner. And that you both rushed out without dessert.”
“Gross.” Jon steps away. “I don’t wanna know what you two were talking about last night.”
“Probably don’t go online, then,” Jack adds seriously, “because whatever venereal diseases he has, she probably has them now, too.”
“Jack!”
