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Who is it?
I stand up for a closer look, and the car door opens, and I quickly duck back down. I hear high heels clicking on the driveway.
A woman.
He has a woman over.
Of all the nerve . . .
I crane my neck as I try my hardest to see what she looks like, but I can’t see a thing.
His front door opens. “Vanessa,” his deep voice says.
“Hello, darling,” she replies before going inside. The door shuts behind her.
I step back, shocked. Yet not surprised. On autopilot, I walk back inside and empty the trash with vigor. “I hate that man.”
I shake the new bag aggressively in the air. “He’s such a fucking asshole.” I stuff the bag into the trash and struggle around with it and then kick it for good measure. “I wouldn’t go out with him if he was the last man left on earth.”
Barry looks over at me from his bed. His face is flat and unimpressed.
Even he knows I’m talking shit.
“If he came over here right now and begged me for sex, I would slam the door in his face.” I go back over to my front window and peer through the curtains over to Henley’s. “What’s going on over there with fucking Vanessa the Undresser?”
I peer through the curtains some more. “With her fucking Mercedes. So what? You have a fancy car and high heels. Big whoop. You can have him. He’s a giant dickhead.”
Barry sighs and gets up and leaves the room.
I march to the freezer and open it in a rush. “I need ice cream.”
I sit at my kitchen counter as I write myself a to-do list. I’m not wasting any time today. I’m getting straight to it.
I open the kitchen blinds and look out into the backyard; the sun is just coming up. I’ve been waiting for it to get light enough to be able to see where I’m going. “Let’s go, Barry.” I put his leash on, and he dances around all excited. Our morning run has become the highlight of both our days.
We walk out the front door. I lean on the mailbox and curl my foot up behind my bottom and hold it as I stretch my quad. I glance over to see that Vanessa’s car is gone.
Stop.
I don’t care what he does. Good for him.
I stretch my other leg and then put my headphones on and begin a slow jog up the road. I’ve been running for a few minutes when from the corner of my eye, I catch sight of something and glance over to see Henley drive past. He doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t try and talk to me, and I know it shouldn’t matter.
In fact, it doesn’t; I hate him.
Chloe walks back into my kitchen. “So . . . tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I roll my eyes. Just like I knew she would be, Chloe was here bright and early this morning to find out the gossip.
“What happened last night?” she asks.
“With what?”
“With Henley.” She screws up her face as if I’m stupid.
“Nothing.” I act casual as I go to the fridge. “Warren went over there and warned him to look after me, and Henley, being the dick that Henley is, thought it would be comical to mess with me.” I pass her a glass of water.
“It was pretty funny for us too.” She smiles.
