At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(157)
I felt winded again so I had to force out my, “Joe –”
“And I’m not livin’ under the cloud of how it began, Vi. I f**ked up, you know why, I explained it. You don’t accept that, you keep handin’ me this shit, we’ll have problems we can’t overcome and then I’ll move on a different way and you’ll be right back where you f**kin’ started.”
I felt my body get tight. “Are you threatening to leave?”
“I’m not livin’ under that cloud,” he repeated.
“How can you threaten to leave when you’re arguing about staying?” I demanded to know (and I did this loudly).
“God f**king dammit,” he bit out, his voice nearly a snarl then he let me go, turned away, ripped the sheet of paper off the top of the pad and stated, “I’m gettin’ steaks. Sort your f**kin’ head out while I’m gone.”
And as I stood in the kitchen staring at him, he whistled for the dog and both Mooch and Joe walked out (well, Mooch kind of trotted), they went to his truck and they drove to the store.
Why he took Mooch, I had no idea and I was too angry to care.
The time he spent at the store I did not spend, as ordered, sorting my “f*ckin’” head out. Instead, I spent it thinking Joe was a jerk and I should never have started it with him. I spent more time thinking this was never going to work, primarily because he was a jerk.
He arrived home with two bags of groceries in one hand, his phone at his ear in his other hand and Mooch, in doggie heaven after getting a ride in Joe’s truck, at his heels.
He stayed on the phone while I started up the grill for the steaks and seasoned them (I also seasoned good steaks, salt and pepper, seasoning salt and Worcestershire sauce, brilliant), put some new potatoes on the boil and got the water ready for the peas when they needed to go in.
Then I took the steaks to the grill and was in the beginning processes of ruining them (with Tina sitting on her deck, reading a magazine and drinking a cocktail) when Joe came out and plucked the fork right out of my hand.
“I’m grilling steaks,” I snapped, glaring up at him.
“Yeah, now I’m grilling steaks,” Joe clipped back then fiddled with the knobs.
“What are you doing? I have it like I want it.”
“It’s too hot, Vi.”
“So?”
“You’re gonna burn ‘em.”
I crossed my arms on my chest, threw out a foot, tilted a hip and shot back, “I’ve been doing things just fine for nearly two years without your help, I think I can grill a couple f**king steaks.”
He glowered at me, I glared right back then he said, “Right,” handed me the fork and walked away.
I turned back to the grill, saw Tina smirking in my direction, I ignored her, readjusted the knobs and finished ruining the steaks.
Joe didn’t get a chance to eat his ruined steak since he took off, not saying good-bye.
I added that to my list of reasons why he needed to move the f**k out right, f**king, away.
Keira and Kate were both home before Joe and they both asked where he was. Since he didn’t tell me, I didn’t have an answer. They decided, wisely, not to pursue it. They had, I didn’t realize, been around when Tim and I fought and they knew, I didn’t realize, that I could hold a mean grudge. So they steered clear.
In fact it was dark, the girls were asleep and I was in bed by the time Joe got home and I’d been in bed a really long time.
Long enough to cool down, get my head sorted out and remember three things.
One, Joe didn’t have seventeen years with a partner to practice communication. Hell, I did have that time and Tim and I often got into tiffs, mainly because he was hot-headed and when my temper blew, it blew huge. I didn’t know how long Joe and Bonnie were married but I didn’t figure she was that good of a communicator and he certainly wasn’t. I needed to cut him some slack.
Two, Jackie told me that the only way sure to fail was to give up and that was always the first thing on my mind, giving up on Joe. I needed to stop doing that.
And three, right in the middle of a fight he said he’d waited seventeen years (even longer) for me and my girls. I hadn’t waited that long to find him but the time after losing Tim to finding Joe wasn’t fun and I never wanted to repeat that again so I couldn’t imagine waiting seventeen years to find someone I gave a shit enough about to try out a life with them. After all that time, we’d given him something to wake up and get out of bed for, he told me that too, and that was huge. So I also needed to stop being a bitch.
I heard him enter the house then our room then I heard his clothes hit the floor and, seconds later, I felt it as he hit the bed.
I rolled into him instantly.
His body got tight.
“In no mood, buddy,” he growled this warning, clearly not done being mad.
“I was a bitch,” I replied, his body got tighter and I pressed closer and kept talking. “I didn’t think it through, I have too much on my mind but you’re important, I should have thought it through and I shouldn’t have lost my temper when I was caught off guard.” I kissed his neck and whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry, Joe.”
He didn’t reply, his body still taut, and kept his silence for long enough for me to take a deep breath and a big risk and do everything I could not to give up on Joe.