by Kate Benson
Okay.
I reach for a cup from the cupboard, filling it with now cold coffee and reheating it in the microwave, scouring my brain for whatever fresh hell I just walked in to. I glance through the small cut-out in the kitchen wall that reveals her sitting on the far end of the couch, holding Vinnie in her lap while she reaches for her e-reader.
She looks content, relaxed. In fact, six months ago, I’d have been naïve enough to blow the whole exchange off. I’ve lived with Evie long enough now, though, to know her tell-tale cycle of psychosis.
That girl is many things, but fine ain’t fuckin’ one of them.
And when she ain’t fine, you can damn sure bet I’m about to be anything but, too.
Shit.
“What the fuck did you do, dude?” I whisper almost silently to myself.
I pull my now hot coffee from the microwave, studying her from the safety of the kitchen. My mind runs rampant, eager to do whatever necessary to negotiate my safe passage, but I’m coming up short.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not perfect. I piss that girl off every thirty seconds. Fine. Admitted. But this time? Right now? I have no idea what the fuck she’s mad about.
Fuck.
I’m going to have to go in.
“What are you reading?”
“A book,” she says, her tone clipped.
“Are you enjoying it?” I ask, biting my tongue when she replies with a nod. “What’s it about?”
“It’s a love story,” she sighs. “It’s about two cousins, Chase and Drake Mitchell. They meet two best friends and fall in love.”
“All of them?” I ask. “With each other?”
“Why would they all fall in love with each other?” she asks, raising her eyes from her e-reader to stare out in front of her before her extremely unamused expression meets mine. “No. Chase falls in love with one girl and Drake falls in love with the other. One’s a nice guy and the other is a rich, Southern Dom.”
“Rich, Southern Dom, huh?” I ask, scratching my beard as she nods again. “You into that?”
“I’m into reading the rest of the story,” she snaps, redirecting her eyes to the screen and effectively telling me to shut up.
I come to a stop at the edge of the couch beside her, studying her features for any kind of clue, but finding none.
Dammit.
“You okay, pussycat?” I ask, my voice low, but light and easy as I take a seat beside her on the couch.
I lean into the cushions as comfortably as the waves of annoyance rolling off her will allow. She taps the screen, her actions giving no indication that she’s any intention of talking to me before finally, she proves me wrong.
“Yes,” she repeats, scooting away from me another half inch and taking Vinnie with her. “I told you I was fine.”
I glance down at him to find him glaring at me like usual and I can’t help but release a sigh. I may be an idiot when it comes to relationships, but I do know one thing as fact. If a woman tells you she’s fine, she’s full of shit. Fine is nothing more than a not-so-subtle warning that you’re a single misstep away from taking up residence on the couch until you find some magical way to make sure she’s no longer feeling fine.
And by magical, I mean she’s going to make me kiss her ass like a fuckin’ chump for three days before demanding I buy her some stupid, overpriced chick shit to reclaim my side of the bed.
Not today, Satan.
“You sure?” I ask, reaching to place my palm on her forehead in a feigned effort to check her temperature, biting the inside of my cheek when she gently pulls away. “You seem like maybe something is bothering you. Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes, Dash. I’m fine,” she insists a third time. Her nostrils flare slightly, so slightly, in fact, I almost miss it. “Why are you staring at me?”
“No reason,” I shrug, my fingers trailing over the stray blonde strands that have fallen from her messy bun. “Just felt like looking. You’re cute.”
This time, she doesn’t hesitate giving me her eyes.
“Well, aren’t you a liar?” she counters.
“I’m not lying,” I smirk, grateful that for now, I don’t have to lie to try and get myself out of whatever trouble I’ve unknowingly found myself in. “I’ve told you I always think you look prettiest when you’re not covered in makeup and obsessing over bullshit you don’t need,” I admit, my eyes still greedily taking her in. “You’ve got those sexy little shorts on that showoff my babies and you’re still rockin’ the sex hair I gave you this morning,” I husk. “Not to mention, I can see your nipples through that shirt,” I wink, trying my best to ignore the way her expression refuses to shift in my favor. “I think you’re hot as fuck, princess. You’re damned right I’m gonna look.”
She sets her book to the side, finally turning to face me, but as her eyes bore into mine, where I’d hoped to find forgiveness, I’m only seeing contempt.
“So, let me get this straight,” she starts, pulling a silent groan from my chest. Shit. “You’ve just pointed out every single thing I’ve been self-conscious about since I woke up and put this on and that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Baby, I was giving you a compliment.”
“What part of that was meant to be a compliment?” she snips. “The fact that I’m too big for my own clothes now so I have no choice to wear these shorts unless I want to drown in your sweats and suffer a heat stroke? Or that my nipples are so swollen, the thought of putting a bra on right now legitimately makes me want to sit in the middle of the floor and cry? Not that I can do that without getting stuck and having to ask you to come help me,” she continues, my chest sinking. “Or the fact that when I was in the bathroom trying to make myself feel somewhat human, my brush fell on the floor and I couldn’t bend over far enough to pick it up, so I was forced to leave my hair like this?” she demands, her shoulders flying up in annoyance as she glares back at me. “What part of that makes you want me the most, Dash?”
“Baby, I didn’t know…”
“Yeah, because you don’t listen!” she cuts me short. “I’ve been talking about this for days and just like usual, you block it all out and focus on yourself,” she accuses sharply as she shakes her head, her eyes moving back toward the book we both know she’s not actually reading. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter what I say or when I say it, Dash. You just hear what you want to hear and sleep through the rest.”
“That’s not fair,” I argue, setting my coffee on the table in front of me, my eyes moving directly back to her. “When the fuck did I do that?”
“Constantly!” she insists. “Every single time I say anything to you that isn’t about us fucking or your car, Dash.”
That’s like the seventh time she’s said your name, dude.
And not in a good way.
“Listen, baby,” I start, rubbing my palms over my face in frustration. “I know you’re obviously going through some kind of hormonal shit right now, but…”
“Oh, so now it’s my hormones?”
“I sure as fuck hope so!” I reply, facing her. “I hope this isn’t some newfound sparkling personality bullshit because I’ll tell you something, sweetheart. I’m not in love with it.”
“Ooh! Well, I’d best learn to properly behave myself then. I wouldn’t want my big, strong, hardworking, savior of a master to look poorly on little ol’ me, now would I?” she fans herself dramatically, her sarcastic tone making me deadpan. “What would the church elders think?” she challenges once more before wiping the look of theatrical concern from her lips. “Get fucking real, Dash. I’m not going to let you treat me like one of the little skanks you used to fuck with before we got together.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, shaking my head. “Seriously, Evie. If you’re pissed at me about something, just tell me what it is. Don’t deflect by accusing me of treating you like shit.”
“You don’t even know what you did?” she asks, her mouth fall
ing open in offense. “Unfreakingbelievable!”
“Yeah, it is pretty unbelievable,” I agree. “I’ve been awake for fifteen minutes and you’re jumping my shit over some made up crap-”
“You’re doing it right now!” she insists.
“Doing what?” I ask, my tone a combination between confusion, frustration and sheer fascination at her ability to be so fucking dramatic at every turn. “I’m talking to you.”
“No, you’re hearing what you want to hear and ignoring everything else!” she argues, and I immediately shake my head in disagreement. “Yes, you are, Dash! You never listen to me!”
“Baby,” I groan, leaning back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before my eyes fall back on hers, unable to keep the subtle smirk of annoyance from my lips. “You are so full of shit.”
“No, I’m not!” she denies, making my eyes widen of their own accord. “Stop it!”
“I’m not doing anything,” I sigh. “This entire situation is you.” She starts to argue again, but I cut her off. “Yes, it is. You’re having an argument with yourself right now. I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I admit as I release a long, low breath and reach for my cup. “You’re telling me I never listen to you and seriously, not trying to be a dick, sugar, but I can’t remember the last time you were awake and not fucking talking,” I blurt, making her jaw drop in offense. “I love you to death, Evie, but you talk so much,” I shake my head. “And that’s fine, baby. I’ll listen to you all fucking day long, but did you ever think maybe I don’t respond because you don’t stop to let me?”
“Ah!” she screams, crossing her arms and glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“What?”
“Whatever. I don’t even care anymore,” she insists, moving to lift herself from the couch and failing miserably, her anger only multiplying as she falls back against the cushions. “If you want to be a pig, be a pig. I just wish you didn’t have to argue with everything I say.”
“How could I do that if I never listen to you?” I challenge, my smirk triumphant. “If I’m so fucking terrible to you-”
“That is not what I said!” she heaves, trying to lift once more and swatting my hand away when I move to help her. “I don’t want your help!”
Jesus Christ.
“I never listen, I treat you like my inferior, I disregard your feelings,” I tick off her accusations on my fingers. “You’re some put upon, mistreated, peasant of a woman who I’ve left barefoot and pregnant to serve me or whatever made up bullshit you’ve pulled out of your ass today,” I continue, shaking my head. “Did I cover it all? Or did your hormones have more to add?”
“Stop blaming this on my fucking hormones!” she shouts, finally managing to lift from the couch. “I mean, thank God you knocked me up! You can use that excuse for just about anything you want now, can’t you? It leaves you with zero responsibility. Just blame Evie’s crazy on her fucking hormones. Is that it, Dash?”
“I need to blame it on something, baby!” I reply, standing with her, my voice moving into a shout to match hers this time, too. “I mean, for Christ’s sake! When you woke me up to fuck you, everything was fine. I wake up now and you’re accusing me of being some kind of misogynistic fucking Neanderthal!” I continue. “And do you want to know the real kicker here?”
“Do I?” she responds, her voice dripping in sarcasm that only further pisses me off, but I ignore it.
“Six months ago-”
“Nine!”
“Nine! Whatever! The point is I wouldn’t have even tried to deny that shit, Evie, but I haven’t done a fuckin’ thing wrong this time. If anything, I’ve been catering to your spoiled little ass,” I insist, pulling an unamused laugh from her seething lips. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ve done. You think I’d take this shit from anyone else?” I demand, raising my eyebrow as I release my own little laugh and shake my head. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.”
“Whatever,” she huffs. “If you’ve been kissing my ass so much, why are we doing this?”
“Hell, if I know!” I throw my hands up, thoroughly over this ridiculous non-fight she’s insistent upon having. “Fuck it, baby. You want to be mad? Fine. Be fuckin’ mad, but don’t accuse me of some made up bullshit. Either tell me what I did so I can make the shit up to you or get the fuck over it so we can move on with our lives. Those are your options.”
She holds my eyes, glaring at me ruthlessly while her chest slowly rises and falls in fury. Calmly, she sets her e-reader onto the side table and moves her livid gaze back to mine.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Dash,” she finally says, her low, even voice forcing a chill up my already annoyed spine. “Because I can think of at least one other option that suits me much better.”
“Yeah?” I ask, watching her glare up at me. “What’s that?”
“Don’t worry,” she smirks. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, watching her step around the coffee table to leave the room, pulling an eye roll from me in the process.
“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it,” she says under her breath, storming down the hallway toward our bedroom, the door slamming behind her.
Fuckin’ psycho.
I stare back up at the ceiling as I shake my head and release a long, low groan of frustration.
“Well, we made it a month that time,” I sigh, throwing back the last of my coffee before I set the cup down hard on the table. “It was a good fuckin’ run.”
I briefly consider Mexico while I stare at the door and shake the thought away altogether.
“She’d fuckin’ find me,” I mumble, moving toward the hallway. “I’d never hear the end of it.”
I push a long, low breath through my lips as I make it to the doorway. I pray against certain insanity, gathering my strength for what I’m hoping is resolution, but fear is about to be round two of the dumbest fight we’ve had in a while.
“Babe,” I call out, tapping the frame before checking the doorknob and find it locked. “Open the door.”
“Eat a dick!”
I bite my tongue before I bury my hand into my hair, giving it a gentle tug. She’s going to have me fuckin’ bald before she hits her third trimester. I glance up to the top of the door frame and find the emergency key still hidden over the ledge and tuck it into my hand.
“I have a key, baby,” I admit. “Are you going to make me use it or are you going to talk to me?”
“What’s wrong? Do you miss my voice already?” she counters sarcastically. “I thought you’d enjoy some silence since I never shut up.”
“Evie, you know I didn’t say th-”
“Liar!” she cuts me off, her voice getting louder as she stomps back toward the door. “That’s exactly what you said, Dash!” she insists, yanking the door open and glaring at me through the small opening. “And do you know how I know that? Because I fucking listen!”
“I know what I said,” I reply, my voice low and even. “And you do talk a lot, but I knew that before I started fucking you,” I continue, shoving my knee into the gap between the door before she can slam it in my face again. “I just needed you to open the door and knew that would do it.”
“I thought you had a key?” she counters, making me flash the small, silver piece in my hand before she replaces her gaze on mine.
“I was trying to save B&E as a last resort,” I admit. “I talk a lot of shit, but I don’t want a relationship where I’ve got to pick a lock to talk to my girlfriend.”
She stares back at me for a long moment before my words make her swallow hard and she turns away, releasing her grip on the door. I watch her move toward the bed, sliding onto the edge of the mattress but still hiding her eyes from me just enough that she doesn’t know I can see her trying not to cry. She discreetly swipes at her tears, her chest heaving silently as I move across the room to sit beside her, wrapping my arm around her waist to press
my lips into her hair.
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” I whisper, squeezing her a little tighter, grateful when she raises one hand slightly to cuff around my wrist affectionately. “I went a little overboard and I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay,” she manages, her voice breaking on the words. “I was way meaner than you were.”
“That’s fair,” I tease, my lips curving up slightly on either side when she pinches my hand playfully. She twists to face me and when she does, I finally see the tears she’d been trying so desperately to hide. I pull the bottom of my shirt up and use the cotton to gently wipe her cheeks clean. “No more tears, killer,” I whisper, releasing a low sigh. “It was just a stupid fight.”
“I know,” she admits, glancing away for a moment before her eyes come back to mine. “I just…”
“What?” I ask when her words coming to a standstill.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“So what?” I shrug, smirking at her blank expression. “Tell me anyway.”
She stares back at me for a long moment before finally, she releases a long sigh and glances down at her hands.
“Earlier, when we laid down to take a nap, I was thinking about how things are still kind of fucked up, but not in the horrible way we thought they would be and it just made me emotional,” she starts. “Like, I really thought we were going to be totally screwed, but we’re not and I know it’s because of you,” she allows, her words making me swallow the knot of emotion in my throat this time. “I’ve known that for months, but I guess in that moment it just hit me really hard because I didn’t ever think that would happen,” she shakes her head. “Not just with you, but with anyone. And I guess because it is with you, it’s even crazier, you know?” she continues, her nerves making her words even more endearing. “And the amount of love I felt for you in that moment, that I feel for you in every moment lately, is so overwhelming sometimes. I’m always giving you hell for not knowing what you’re doing, but a lot of this is new for me, too, Dash. I’ve never been with someone that I could tell all of those things to and not worry about being vulnerable or let down, and so I told you,” she whispers, shaking her head in silent wonder for a moment before she continues. “I bared my entire soul to you in ways I never have with anyone else and it was fucking magical and perfect and probably the sweetest shit I’ve ever said out loud,” she admits, her eyes filling with tears once more as my chest begins to tighten with a combination between the very same affection she’s describing and intense understanding of why she’d been so upset. I’m about to apologize, try my best to make things right between us, but she cuts me off, her shaking hands pressing into my chest with a gentle shove. “And your sorry ass fell asleep!”
