What Lovers Do(74)

I roll my eyes. “Yes. No more cleansing. I’m uh …”

I’m sad. So very sad.

“Sophie? Is everything okay?”

“I’m good. Really. I’ll be over in a bit to get Cersei.”

“Okay. See you soon.”





I get Cersei and make it home and still no sign of Jimmy. It should be a relief, but he’ll return. I’d rather just get that over with now. He can have his little tantrum and take his stuff to a hotel or move to Tennessee. Or I can call the police if he gets too irate.

Just when I give up on him coming back, assuming—hoping—he’s with someone else, the doorbell rings.

I glance out the window. It’s him. The door handle rattles as he tries to open the door.

“Soph …” he says in an agonizing tone. “My key doesn’t work. Open the door.”

I stand right next to the door, hugging my arms to myself. He had to see his stuff at the end of the driveway. He knows what’s happening. “Go away, Jimmy. You no longer live here. I changed the locks. If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.”

“Soph …” He sounds like he’s in pain, a little broken.

Now he knows what he’s done to me for weeks and weeks. Now he knows what it feels like to be worn down, mistreated, and helpless.

“It’s over, Jimmy. I’m going to bed. Go away.”

“Soph … m-my … my mom … d-died.”

I stop after taking several steps away from the door. Nope. I’m not falling for that. He just wants me to open the door. I can’t do that again. I have a baby inside of me. That’s my priority. Period.

And I already miss my friend, Shep. I want to crawl into bed and forget about so much of this day.

“Sophie …” he cries. An actual cry.

I grimace. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying! S-she died … a h-heart attack … Soph … s-she’s gone …”

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I skitter to the bedroom and close the door. He sounds like an injured animal. I open my suitcase and start unpacking. Then I take a shower and get ready for bed. Before I call it a night, I glance out front. Jimmy’s on his side, curled into a ball, shaking, sobbing.

No. I can’t. It was the last straw ten straws ago. Every time I think I have the courage to rid Jimmy from my life, something happens in his life, and I cave.

No more caving.

I shut off all the lights and crawl into bed. It takes me forever to get to sleep, but eventually, I do. Waking early in the morning, too early, I peek out the window.

“No …” I sigh and rub my temples.

He’s still there.

His mom died. I let him sleep outside all night. I can’t win. I can’t find that balance between doormat and raging bitch.

I slowly pad my way toward the front door. Before opening it, I have a moment. Everything hits me all at the same time. Leaning my back against the door, I hold my breath to keep from making a single noise, but my body vibrates as emotions shake me, the earthquake I knew was coming.

Sniffle.

Wipe my tears.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

The look in Shep’s eyes when he thought I might be pregnant with his baby. It slayed me once then again when I told him it wasn’t his.

And the story about Millie not wanting kids.

It’s so much.

Jimmy …

His mom who I knew and cared about too …

It’s too much.

I slip outside, my feet at Jimmy’s head. “I’m very sorry, Jimmy.”

He sniffles, lifting his head just enough to gaze at me through red, swollen eyes. I’ve never seen Jimmy cry.

“I have nowhere to go, Sophie.” His face scrunches, and he begins to cry again. Shoulders hunched. Body shaking in silent sobs.

Fuck my life.

If heaven exists, I want wings. Crowns. A parade in my name. Something really special because I’m being a saint. I’m giving people babies. I’m taking in the homeless. Caring for abandoned dogs in my own way.

“Come on.” I hold out my hand.

Jimmy stares at it for a few seconds before taking it. We go inside to the bedroom. His bedroom. After he crawls onto the bare mattress, since I threw out the sheets, I grab a blanket and cover him. Then I make a dozen saintly trips from the driveway to the house, returning all of his belongings to the bedroom.

“Sophie,” his gravelly voice stops me just as I shut off the light to the bedroom and start to pull the door shut. “You’re too good to me … too good for me.”

Jimmy … who knew he would be the one to humble me at the end of a long couple of days?

I’m not too good for him. I’m not better than anyone else, just different. Just not the one for him. He deserves what we all deserve: to be loved, to be desired, to be wanted.

As I get dressed, and do my hair in the bathroom mirror, I let a few tears make a slow descent down my face. I don’t know if this round of tears is for me, for Shep, or for Jimmy. I’m just incredibly sad.

The image of Shep looking at me in bed—the moment I knew he was about to say something that I wasn’t ready for him to say—it takes front and center in my mind.

So I call him.

Setting my phone on the edge of the vanity, I wipe my tears and pull out my makeup to fix my blotchy face before I have to go to work.