Birthday Girl(94)

“Because you’re allowing Jordan to stay. Why?”

I pull the garment over my head. “If you want to know what’s going on with Cole, ask Cole. As for who I rent out a room to, that’s none of your business.”

I comb my fingers through my hair, having forgotten to style it. She’s quiet for a moment, and I don’t look at her as I pull my phone off the charger and stick it in my pocket.

She steps up to my side and takes my chin, forcing me to face her.

I jerk away. “What?”

“You’re flushed.”

“It’s warm out,” I retort.

But underneath my skin, my blood warms and my heart pounds harder. I pick up my coffee, taking a sip to conceal my nervousness. The woman is a shark. She can smell blood across an ocean.

“I know what you look like after you come,” she charges. “So, question is… Is it the sweet piece of teen ass upstairs or someone new?”

I slam my mug down, glaring at her. “That’s enough.”

Goddammit. I forgot how smart she is. I haven’t even left the house yet, and I can’t even get what I’m feeling by the one person I’ve run into. Awesome.

Heading over to the table, I sit down and pull on my socks and boots and gather up everything I need for the day.

“Cole quit his job at the plant,” she finally tells me. “Three days ago.”

I look up, stopping what I’m doing. Three days?

“Let me give you a tip,” she condescends. “Parenting didn’t stop when he turned eighteen and you no longer had to pay child support. He still needs you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take parenting lessons from a woman who got pregnant so she’d have a meal ticket for the rest of her life.” I turn to her, pinning her with my stare. “Maybe he quit, so he wouldn’t have to work for nothing, since you guilt him into giving you half of his paychecks.”

She slaps me across the face, and my head jerks to the side.

But I just laugh.

Of course, I’m worried. He’s been out of work and hasn’t been home, but I’m not taking a lecture from her. She’s used him, and I’ve had enough of her bullshit.

“That’s the reason you don’t let him come work for me, isn’t it?” I ask, not backing down. “Because in exchange, I was going to pay his bills and give him a stipend to make sure you didn’t get your hands on his whole damn salary. You only care about him when he comes bearing cash.” I gather up my shit and walk for the door, yanking it open. “You know who I’m really jealous of? All the men who got away before you trapped them with a kid. I’m not sorry I had Cole, but I am sorry it was with you. Get out.”

I’m proud I kept my voice down and was able to muster some control, but I’m seething inside. She comes into my house, accusing me of being a bad parent, and then hits me. She’s not my wife and never has been. I have to put up with her, but not with everything.

She stands there, looking almost amused, and finally walks up to me. “Yes,” she says, about to leave but turns and taunts me over her shoulder, “because your house is the only area of your life you can get me out of.”

And then her eyes flash up my stairs and back to me, a sick smirk playing on her lips.

She walks out, and I remain still, everything I felt in my bedroom minutes ago completely gone. Cole is spiraling, and he needs me now more than ever.

And Lindsay knows about Jordan. She may not know anything for sure, but her suspicions will be enough.

She’ll tear Jordan apart. There’s no way I’m putting her through that.

I just wish I could’ve had her for more than seven hours.





Jordan



I press the stones onto the step with my pick and grab the glue, squeezing it into the crevice to fasten the pieces to the model. I feel an urge to glance at the clock on the microwave again, but I refrain, knowing it hasn’t been more than two minutes since the last time I checked.

It’s after six, and Pike is late. He’s hardly ever late.

As the minutes go by, though, I feel my temper rise, because he hasn’t called, either, and he specifically asked me to be home. This isn’t like him, but it’s damn-well like every other guy I’ve known. I’m that girl they can treat like garbage and make wait, because I take it.

For a while, anyway.

The pizza I ordered, half pepperoni and half taco, was delivered an hour ago and is keeping warm in the oven, while my salad is in the fridge, staying chilled. The Lost Boys, continuing our 80’s horror movie marathon, is on the TV, ready to play, and I’m alone.

Again.

Okay. He could be in the middle of something, still at work. Understandable, and I’m an adult. I don’t need my hand held. He could’ve also been in an accident, but that’s extreme, and I don’t want to be that girl who calls, either. He’ll think I’m…getting attached or something.

I glue the glass balls onto the bed of what will soon be the stream, letting the minutes tick away his chances as I sit there, wait, and get angrier.

The day has been so great. I woke up sore but hardly even noticing, because the memories of last night had me blushing constantly. He was not out of practice at all, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I cleaned up the broken lamp and fixed the nightstand again.