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Almost like how something about Fiona unraveled me.
But no.
Fuck no.
I was already unraveled, already un-fucking-hinged long before I met her.
I slammed the fresh glass of Jameson the bartender handed me.
“You can save your pep talk,” I told Rowan, still not looking at him. “About how your life is fucking aces or whatever now that you’re married and in love and have a kid. I get it. It’s great for you, and I’m happy as fuck for you, but that is not the same as this, and I won’t do well if you even try to say it is.”
I wouldn’t wish the shit I’d gone through on anyone. I was glad as all fuck that my best friend was sitting beside me completely unable to empathize with my past. But I fucking hated that he was here to try and guide me on my future or some shit.
“Unfortunately, it is the same,” Rowan said.
I looked at him then. At my friend with the even gaze, the one who got me through the darkest of nights, saved my life more times than I could count, and had seen me at my absolute worst. Right now, I wanted to kill the motherfucker.
“It is not the goddamn same,” I gritted out. “And fuck you for even saying that.”
I was still gripping my empty glass, dangerously close to smashing it on my best buddy’s head. He knew it, too, but he didn’t move.
He didn’t walk the fuck away.
“You need to tell her,” Rowan said. “About Gabbie and Evelyn.”
Their names tore through me like missiles, shattering bones, flesh, organs.
“I do not need to tell her shit,” I seethed. “She’s my wife, not fucking yours. You don’t get to dictate what I say to her.”
“Yeah, she’s yourwife,” Rowan agreed. “And she’s pregnant. I cannot begin to understand what you went through before. But I’ll tell you right now that if you don’t step up for your wife and child, you’re not the man I thought you were. More importantly, you’re not the mantheythought you were.”
There it was.
I had to fight him now.
Because he’d brought them up. He’d struck that low blow, and I couldn’t let that shit go.
Rowan didn’t give me a chance, though. He’d had about half a bottle of Jameson less than me—meaning none at all—therefore he could get off his stool, give me some fucking meaningful look, and walk away before I even decided to plow my fist through his face.
And the motherfucker took my keys.
eleven
The New Arrangement
fiona
Kip didn’t come homeuntil the next day.
I hadn’t expected him to.
In fact, I hadn’t expected him to come home at all. He’d been pretty adamant about his stance on our unborn baby. Someone feeling that passionately about children did not just change their mind overnight.
I was sipping a sweet cup of tea at the breakfast bar when the front door opened and closed. I wished it was coffee since I hadn’t slept a wink last night, but the cup I’d made smelled like Satan’s asshole and made me throw up in the sink. Tea it was.
I’d attempted dry toast, but it sat on the plate in front of me with a bite taken out of it, taunting me.
Well, it had been taunting me up until the front door opened and closed.
