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Grabbing an empty glass of water, I stare over my kitchen counter.
If someone had told me I’d witness a scene such as the one in my living area, I would’ve paid their therapy bills.
Maybe this is an indication that I should start with my own therapeutic session. The reason is simple. As strange as the view is, it feels…fucking right coupled with all the wrong emotions I shouldn’t entertain.
Nicole, who graduated from multitasking school with flying colors, is helping Jayden do his homework while going through her pending assistant tasks.
Herbrother, Jayden.
A nine-year-old little fucker of epic proportions. He’s almost like a younger Nicole but with more bite and less snobbishness.
As much as I hate to admit it, the little fucker has grown on me since I first met him a week ago. Not only is he as allergic to stupidity as I am, but he has a sassy mouth that nearly rivals his sister’s.
Almost.
It’s part of the reason why I opened my home to them. I told Nicole I wouldn’t be driving back and forth to her shabby flat for dinner and demanded she bring it to me.
Although her place should be listed as a noise, danger, and life hazard, that’s not actually the real reason I no longer want to go there.
The thing is, I couldn’t keep seeing her in her skimpy robes and then have to get up and leave with a hard-on bigger than Mount Everest.
Naturally, she gave me a piece of her mind and blathered about how not everyone can afford a luxurious flat. She has this annoying tendency where she likes to express whatever’s on her mind.
She usually goes red at my biting replies, though, so we’re basically pushing and pulling with no strings attached.
Anyhow, after she agreed to bring me dinner every night—correction, after I gave her no choice—I provoked Jayden so he’d suggest that he’d tag along. I wouldn’t have said it myself if I were on the brink of death.
Even I know that their shitty, humid flat is not good for his condition. Not to mention the endless noise that can be heard through the paper-thin walls.
Even the cat is constantly jolted awake by a sudden thud or scream in that hellhole.
The same cat that’s currently rubbing against my sweatpants and leaving hair galore. In the span of a week, she ruined exactly five of my suit jackets and dirtied double that amount of the rest of my clothes.
And yes, even the cat, Lolli, had to come along. Jay insisted not to leave her alone.
Lolli.
Jesus fucking Christ. Nicole couldn’t be more predictable than a criminal who’s been caught red-handed pleading not guilty.
The cat mewls, probably trying to get my attention, so I sigh and lower myself to pet her. She purrs, headbutting my leg, and then she jumps on my knee.
“Give you an inch and you’ll take a mile, huh?”
She just meows in response and it almost sounds like a whine.
What the fuck am I doing?
Jesus.
Not only have I opened my house to Nicole but also to her brother and cat.
And the worst part is that my flat feels…full. There’s no emptiness echoing from the walls or the biting edge of loneliness.
Though that dreadful atmosphere does return after I drive them home later. Which defies the whole purpose of my not going to their awful neighborhood that could turn into a crime scene at any second.
Still, I couldn’t let them take a taxi.
Not at night, when the psychos and predators come out to play.
