His Princess (A Royal Romance)(107)

Go what, crawling on all fours, begging for him? No. I’m not going to let some man wrap me around his finger ever again. Never ever. I did that before and look where it got me. The only thing I have in my life is my girls.

My girls.

I wait at the bus stop with the other moms. It’s weird how many of my neighbors don’t work. Half of them are in sweatpants and the other half are dressed up from whatever part-time job their husbands pat them on the ass and send them off to during the day. Selling houses or whatever.

The kids file off the busses (the neighborhood has enough kids to require two) and I wait.

I wait, and I wait.

All the kids pile off. The doors slap closed, and the busses’ diesel engines snort as they roll off, rumbling, and my kids aren’t there. Karen and Kelly aren’t there.

Panic reaches up from somewhere deep and squeezes my heart.

I’ll call Karen. I pat my pockets. No phone. I left my f*cking phone at home.

Turning back to the neighborhood, I bolt, running full tilt, ignoring the burn in my legs and lungs. I run all the way back to the house and stop, almost falling when I spot Russel’s Jeep in my driveway.

I can’t muster the energy to run. It feels like I’m swimming up to the house. The door is open.

Russel is in my f*cking house, and so is his slut. Her name is Skyler. She’s twelve years younger than I am. When she started riding Russel’s dick she was barely older than Karen is now, a freshman just like I was, although this time he learned his lesson and plucked a flower that wasn’t in his classes.

I hate the sight of her. Tall and willowy, she has a model’s proportions, a pretty heart-shaped face with rosebud lips and high cheekbones, and a haughty look. Her hair is bleached blonde and she’s either wearing a padded bra or she’s gotten implants since the last time I saw her. She’s in my house, making sandwiches in my kitchen.

“Oh, hi,” she says, “The kids were hungry.”

Kelly doesn’t care. She’ll eat anything anybody puts in front of her. If looks could kill, Karen would burn a ragged, hot hole through Skyler’s forehead. She accepts the peanut butter and jelly sandwich in sullen silence and takes one bite before slapping it contemptuously on the saucer and folding her arms.

Russel stands in the living room, staring at the television.

“Hello, Rose.”

“What do you want? Why are you in my house?”

“It’s my house,” he says blithely.

“Then you should pay the mortgage.”

“I’m up to date on all my payments.” He gives the tomato sauce stain on my chest a contemptuous look. “I see you’re keeping yourself up.”

“I had a day off from work. I don’t get many of those. I have to work myself to the bone taking care of my kids and paying the mortgage on this monstrosity.”

“That’s a shame.”

Russel doesn’t look much different from the first time he connived me into his bed. He’s got a little more gray—when I first fell for him he had those little wings along his ears and exuded that “older man” charm that dumb girls like me fall for so easily. God, I’m such a cliché. If I’m not falling into the arms of an older man I’m getting used as a f*ck toy by an obnoxious bad boy.

“What do you want?” I ask again. I fold my arms over my chest, careful to avoid the stain on my shirt.

“I picked the kids up from school. I can do that. I’m their father.”

“You get one weekend a month, and this isn’t it.”

“For now,” he says. “I’ll be in touch, Rose. I don’t think this is a good living environment for my children. I understand you have them unsupervised for long periods of time.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Russel. Leave.”

“Well, alright, then. Come on, honey.”

Skyler flounces out of the kitchen and glues herself to his side. He makes sure to grope her in front of me, never mind that it’s in full view of my daughters. They head out the door and I slam it shut behind them, turn the deadbolt, and sink to the floor.

Silence reigns in the house, except for the sound of chewing. Kelly finished her sandwich and is now eating Karen’s for her.

“She has fake boobs,” Karen announces.

“Karen,” I drawl, trying to sound mad at her for saying that, but I can’t muster the energy to pull it off.

Kelly giggles through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly.

“What did he say while he was driving you here?”

Karen shrugs. “He just asked us about our day, and wanted to know how your job was going and about your classes. I didn’t tell him anything. He wants to take us away and make us live with that bitch Skyler.”

“Karen!”

“She is a bitch,” Kelly agrees.

I sigh. “Stop saying that.”

“It’s true.”

“I know it’s true, just don’t say it.”

Karen gets up, walks over to the door, and plops down next to me. A minute later Kelly joins us, carrying a bowl of cheese doodles.

How does she eat all that?

The hell with it. I take one, crunch it between my teeth, and sigh.

“Block party tomorrow,” Karen says, a hint of hope in her voice.