What Lovers Do(60)

“Then take him and leave!” I pound my bare feet to my bedroom with Cersei right behind me, and slam the door and fall onto my bed, screaming into my pillow.

In the middle of my tantrum, my phone rings. It’s Chloe.

“Hey.” I clear the anger from my throat and roll onto my back, staring at my ceiling fan, the one Jimmy didn’t risk his life to dust.

“I’m on my way. I’m bringing you some clothes that Sarah gave me. I know you’re not showing yet, but when you do, I don’t want you to have to spend a bunch of money on maternity clothes. And you and Sarah are the same size.”

Sitting up, back ramrod straight, I blow my bangs out of my face. “No. Don’t come over. I’ll stop by your house tomorrow and pick them up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m literally three blocks from your house. I was just making sure you were home; otherwise, I was going to get your garage code and leave them anyway.”

“Actually, Chloe … it might be a good idea to just leave them on the front porch. I’m just getting ready to jump in the shower.”

“Well, unlock your door. I’ll wait for you. I want to talk about some other things. Like the birthing classes. Mason and I want to attend them with you.”

“Yep. Fine. No problem.”

Chloe laughs. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She disconnects the call.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I toss my phone aside and open my bedroom door like I’m trying to rip it off its hinges.

Jimmy’s back in his spot on the sofa, and thank god Kora is gone.

“I’ll give you fifty dollars to go to your room, not make a sound, and not come out until I tell you it’s okay to come out.”

He gives me a lifted eyebrow. “Let me guess … you’ve invited your boyfriend over here. I want to meet him.”

“No. Chloe’s on her way. And she thinks you’ve moved out.”

“Why does she think that?”

“Because I told her.”

“Why did you lie to her?”

“Jesus Christ, Jimmy! Just go to your room.”

“What do I get in return?”

“I just said I’d give you fifty dollars.”

“I don’t need your money.”

Just my house and a death grip on my sanity.

“What do you want?”

“I want to stay and work things out.”

“No.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Then I want a blowie.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

“Then I’m not getting off the sofa.”

Everyone has a limit, maybe not the same limit, but everyone has one. I march into the kitchen and grab that gifted butcher knife. “I’m going to cut off your testicles.”

“No you’re not.” He scoffs.

Gripping the knife tightly, I make a beeline for him, cock my arm back, and plunge the knife forward between his spread legs.

“The fuck?” He jumps back, covering his junk with one hand while eyeing the knife I just stabbed into the sofa cushion where his left testicle was just seconds earlier. “Are you insane?”

Yes. I’m officially insane. A docile optometrist by nature. My non-confrontational demeanor is what got me into this Jimmy situation. I need something bolder to get me out of this situation. Maybe that’s destroying a sofa that I plan on burning after he leaves. Maybe that’s removing a testicle. I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to figure it out.

“Not insane Jimmy …” Okay, I can feel my wild eyes on the verge of busting a blood vessel or two; they might look deranged. “Fed up. I’m fed up with you and your assholiness. I’m spending way too much time thinking about all the ways I could make you leave my house and at least half of them involve your body being unresponsive and lacking a pulse.” I remove the knife from my sofa cushion and rest it gently at my side while taking a slow breath and an easy step backward.

Jimmy releases an audible breath.

“It’s not a threat. Don’t think you can twist my words and use them against me. It’s just a natural reaction to you fucking with my life. You are responsible for all of this. You are the culprit. You are the reason I feel twitchy and violent. If you poke a bear, bang a stick against a beehive, or step on a rattlesnake, you will get a violent reaction that is not the fault of the bear, the bee, or the snake. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jimmy’s wide-eyed gaze ping-pongs between me and the hole in the sofa just inches from his man parts. “I’ll move out tonight for fifty grand.”

I have the knife. He should be paying me fifty grand not to kill him, maim him, castrate him. “Sleep with one eye open, asshole.”

The doorbell rings.

My grip on the knife handle tightens again.

His gaze flits to the knife. “I’ll go to my room.” He slowly stands, throat bobbing. “It will cost you.”

With Chloe at my door, I don’t have time to negotiate any sort of cost. As he makes his way to the bedroom, I quickly return the knife to the block and hide his shoes and hoodie by the door before opening it.

“Hey.” I smile.