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I wanted to grind my teeth together but I was afraid I’d cut my bottom lip with my fangs—which Christopher still hadn’t noticed yet, since his eyes were glued greedily to my breasts. Speaking of my fangs, they were itching and aching once more and the Thirst was coming back full force. The bottle of water I had downed in the car was long gone and my throat felt like sandpaper.
“Look, I don’t have time to stand around talking about why you divorced me and left me with nothing—” I began. But just like when we were married, Christopher couldn’t let me get an entire thought out without interrupting.
“Left you with nothing? I gave you the minivan, didn’t I? Besides, it’s clear you’re doing fine for yourself,” he scoffed. “I mean just look at what you’re wearing and how much you’ve changed! Where did you get the money to get yourself all fixed up like that? Have you had plastic surgery? I like it except for the dental work.” He frowned, finally noticing my teeth. “Are those supposed to be vampire fangs or what?”
“No!” I exclaimed, feeling my frustration climb even higher. “And I haven’t had surgery of any kind but that’s not what I’m here to talk about!”
Christopher shrugged.
“Sorry, I just asked because for the first time in years, you’re actually attractive. I mean, maybe if you’d spent more time on your appearance instead letting yourself go, we might not have had a divorce.”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” I demanded, putting a hand on my hip. My throat ached from dryness but I was definitely going to have my say. “It didn’t matter to you that I gave up any kind of career I might have had to raise your kids or that I kept your house spotless and did all the household labor without complaining.” I poked a finger in his chest. “You didn’t care that I always had your supper ready on time and got the kids to all their practices and meets and basically did everything I could to support you. All that mattered to you was that I was getting older and my boobs were getting saggy, so you decided to trade me in for a younger model!”
The words just came pouring out of me—they were thoughts that had been running on an endless loop inside my head ever since he’d kicked me to the curb and now I finally had a chance to get them out.
Christopher’s face shut down immediately—just as it always had when I dared to complain about anything.
“All right, that’s enough,” he said coldly. “I see what happened here—you got yourself all dressed up and thought you could come win me back. Well sorry, Lily but I’ve moved on. So you might as well just go on back to wherever you’re living?—”
“I’m living in the minivan, you son of a bitch!” I shouted, completely losing it now. “Because you kicked me out with nothing! After years of being your maid, nanny, and sex toy—until you stopped wanting me—you threw me out on the street with nothing to my name but an old car. You’re an asshole—a selfish fucking monster!”
His face got even colder.
“Good night, Lily,” he said and started to shut the door.
But I wasn’t done with him yet.
“No, you don’t!” I exclaimed, pushing my way into the house. Christopher tried to keep me out, but to my surprise, I was stronger than him. Maybe my rage was making me strong.
Or maybe it’s the Thirst, whispered a little voice in my head, but I pushed it aside and ignored it.
“Hey!” Christopher complained. “You can’t just push your way in like that!”
“Yes, I can!” I snapped back. “I haven’t gotten what I came for yet!”
“Daddy-bear?” a young, feminine voice called from the other room. “Is everything okey-dokey in there?”
Christopher raised his voice, obviously trying to sound reassuring.
“Everything is all righty-tighty, Honey-bunny,” he called back in a sing-song tone. “You just stay on the couch and wait for me. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Okey-dokey, Daddy-bear!” she called back.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“’Daddy-bear?’ How old is she—twelve?”
Christopher bristled.
“She’s twenty, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Oh no, of course not,” I said sarcastically. “Why should the age of the girl you left me for be any of my business? Even if she’s only one year older than your own daughter!”
Christian crossed his arms over his chest self-righteously.
“You leave my children out of this!”
“Your children?” I demanded. “I’m the one who raised them! Tell me something—do they know that you kicked me out with nothing to my name but a duffle bag of clothes and the old minivan?”
