by K. S. Adkins
“What do you mean?” Pharis asked, responding on my behalf.
“Are you dating long distance?”
“No,” I gladly chimed in. “I’m going with her.”
“Why?” she blinked confused.
“I told you,” Butch said with annoyance in his tone. “He resigned from the department to be with Pharis.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “But I don’t get why.”
“Nor do you need to,” Pharis fired back, having had enough of the questions. That was my girl, though. When it came to me, to us, she put the smack down. “I’m not sure how what we do affects you. And if memory serves this is the second time I’ve had to say it.”
Knowing Pharis and her tones, Butch back-pedaled, “I talk about you two all the time. She’s just curious, superstar.”
“Why do you call her superstar?” Emily pushed.
“Why do you care?” Pharis snapped, and honestly, part of me wanted to see where this would go, but the other part, the smarter one, tried to interfere. “We all call her superstar.”
Unfortunately, Emily snorted unattractively, “She gets paid to talk about football.”
Leaning in, Pharis warned, “She’s also sitting right here.”
Sensing mass carnage, the girls whisked Pharis off to the bathroom, leaving me to fend for myself.
Well, fuck.
Bridget had just found out her boyfriend of six months was cheating on her when Butch showed up.
I saw that the pain on his face mirrored the exact pain I saw in Bridget’s. But why he held himself back from her, I’d never know. While he asked me, of all people, for dating advice from time to time, I always assumed it was in reference to Bridget. That night he asked me what happened to her, I told him.
Eddie shared, three days later, the ex-boyfriend had his ass beaten so badly that he couldn’t even ID his attacker.
I thought for sure after Butch stepped in for Bridget that he’d seal the deal with her.
But in the end, he always ended up dating some awful woman who treated him like shit and who Bridget wanted five minutes alone with.
No amount of cold water was dousing this fire.
I was pissed. I hated feeling like this too.
Not just at Emily’s lady balls when it came to cooing over my man, but of her blatant disrespect of Butch. You know, the man she came with.
“If you beat Butch’s bitch, I’m recording it,” Connie said loudly.
“I’m not fighting anyone.” I laughed equally loud.
“She’d deserve it,” Bridget said angrily. “She’s weird, right? She’s here with Butch, but she’s fixated on Eddie. Butch doesn’t deserve that.”
She was right, Emily was, and I didn’t like it. Not just because it was a tacky thing to do, but because it wasn’t fair to Butch either. Eddie wouldn’t even know Emily was here if she didn’t ask him things directly. Butch though, he didn’t put himself out there too often and it pissed me off that she was dicking him over. But to actually assault her? I’m not that drunk.
“I don’t know what he sees in her,” Connie said, licking her lips, and I saw the hurt in Bridget’s eyes. Bridget, who has been head over stilettos for Butch for years. Having to share a table and conversation with a woman who isn’t even close to what he deserves was hard for Bridget. The crux of the problem with these two was that they were in love with the other but neither had any clue what to do about it.
Love...it fucked with everyone in different ways.
“Still,” I added. “We tried being nice. But playtimes over.”
“Incoming,” Bridget coughed, and when Connie and I turned around it was to Emily glaring daggers at me.
“If you’re looking to start shit, head to the men’s room,” I told Emily as I pushed by her. Not one to be dismissed, she followed us into the hall to say, “You have Eddie. Stay away from Butch.”
At this the three of us laughed together. “She’s not just a bitch,” Bridget said. “She’s delusional too.”
“How about you stop with fawning over my friend’s man,” Connie added. “And I would advise you to tread lightly about whatever comes out of your mouth. The six of us are a family, and we aren’t going to break up like some boy band over your plain ass pussy.”
“Boy band?” I questioned Connie.
“You know what I mean.”
“Stay away from him,” she repeated, and I rolled my eyes.
“Or what?” I taunted. “You’re going to ignore Butch more? Follow Eddie and I around the casino again?”
Emily had no idea Butch was standing in the hall until her asked her, “What’s going on, Emily?”
The smug look on her face told me this was about to get graphic.
Three years ago, Butch and I were having drinks on the deck while the girls dyed each other’s hair over margaritas. The pull he felt toward Bridget was palpable, and I couldn’t figure out why he fought it. Especially when her pull was equally strong.
“It’s complicated,” Butch said, wiping the beer foam from his mouth.
“I see the way you look at her,” I reminded him. “You’re in love with her.”
“So is every other guy that looks at her.”
“You’re not every other guy.”
“Man,” he sighed heavily. “Not every woman is like Pharis, okay?”
“What does that mean?”
“You walked up to her and nailed it down,” he said, twisting the cap of his next beer. “Bridget is shy, Eddie. She ain’t gonna be nailed down so easy.”
“She isn’t shy around you,” I pointed out.
“No,” he agreed. “She ain’t. But she should be.”
Butch was on edge.
Not that I blamed the guy, considering his date was clearly nuts.
But it took a lot to upset him and she had succeeded. Normally, he only got worked up when he found out Bridget was dating. So, the fact that this broad set him off did not mean good things. For her.
“I’m gonna go check on Emily,” he said and stood up.
“Pharis won’t kill her,” I joked, but then Aaron coughed, “But Bridget might.”
As a trio, we headed back to the bathrooms to find all the women squared off with Pharis in Emily’s face.
Catching the tail end of the argument, Butch asked, “What’s going on, Emily?” The look on the chick’s face was cunning.
“Your friends,” she spat. “Were just threatening me to stay away from you.”
Catching Pharis’s smirk, I knew full well Emily was lying. Judging by the look on my friend’s face, he knew it too, and he didn’t like being lied to.
“Bullshit,” Butch bellowed. “These girls only want me happy.”
“I make you happy!” she yelled, stomping her foot. “Me! Not her!”
“Not who?” Butch asked, confusion pulling his eyebrow together.
“It’s me or her,” she said petulantly.
“Wrong move, sweetheart,” Aaron whistled out.
While I’m certain all of us knew who the her was, it was Bridget who’d had enough.
“Butch, she came into the ladies’ room for no other reason than to taunt Pharis into staying away from you. This is ridiculous and juvenile. And while it’s clear you have absolutely shit taste in women, case in point, this bitch. I don’t need to stand here and be covered in it.”
“I’m sorry.” Butch laughed and faced Emily. “You told one of my best friends to stay away from me? You told my best friend’s woman to stay away from me?”
“But she—”
“Did you?” he roared, startling all of us.
Her silence was her confession. So I pulled Butch back muttering, “Not here, man.”
“You know what?” Butch grunted. “There's a reason I never brought you around. Your fucking games, the fucking drama. I thought when you came back sniffing around that you'd changed. Grown the fuck up. But you're still causing drama, still making me question why I ever got involved with you. I'm not that gu
y, never will be. I don't need your kind of crazy. I’m fucking done with you.”
At the finality in his voice, Emily paled, Pharis winced, Connie smirked, and Bridget closed her eyes.
Quick to recover, Emily flew forward and latched onto Butch. “You’re mine.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Bridget sighed in annoyance. “He belongs to me, always has. Now step the fuck off.”
“Bridget is the ‘her’?” Aaron asked me.
“Who else would it be?”
“About fucking time,” he said, giving me a fist bump.
Completely oblivious to the woman hanging from his neck, Butch asked Bridget, “I’m yours?”
“Really?” she answered back, her voice filled with sass. “Are you going to stand there and play dumb now?”
“Maybe I just want to hear you say it again?”
“Maybe you should take the trash out and we can talk about it privately.”
Never in all the years I’ve known Bridget have I ever seen her so bold. And in truth? It was fucking awesome. Clearly, Butch thought so too because he couldn’t get Emily off his ass fast enough.
“Allow me,” Pharis said, prying her away with Connie, Aaron, and I stepping forward.
As we escorted a crying Emily out of the bar, we all turned just in time to see Bridget launch herself into Butch’s waiting arms.
Fuck yeah, I loved it when love worked out.
The day I came home to find Eddie had moved out was crushing.
Because, for better or worse, this house was not a home without him in it.
For weeks, I sat on the couch by the picture window waiting for him to come back.
Like it had all been a bad dream, I had expected him to waltz through the door and kiss me soundly on the mouth. Selling the property came next. Luckily it went fairly quickly, and I was able to lease a place a few blocks over. Only had I sat by that window a little longer, looked a little bit harder, I would have seen him.
Little did I know that when I had given up, he had not. And he never would.
Tossing the pizza box into the trash, I grabbed us each a beer from the refrigerator and met Eddie outside to drink on the porch. Throwing his arm around me, he asked, “You going to miss this place?”
“The last couple of weeks here with you, yes. Prior to that, there’s nothing to miss.”
“You miss our house?”
“All the time,” I confessed. “You?”
“Same,” he smiled. “But I’m really looking forward to Miami, baby.”
“Me too,” I sighed happily. “The condo is pretty bad ass, huh?”
“Never seen anything like it,” he said staring at me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Is that something going to make me sad?”
“I hope not,” he said gently.
“Okay, then hit me.”
“Why don’t you hold me responsible for not catching Casanova? It’s because of me this is happening to you.”
“Honestly? He’s the least of my worries, Eddie.”
“Baby...”
“Because when you started to change, when we started to change...it was like, I mean, that’s when I started holding my breath.”
“I’m here, superstar,” he whispered. “Exhale. You can breathe now.”
“That’s why I don’t waste my oxygen on Casanova. I’ll only ever hold it for you.”
“We’re pretty fucking lucky,” he said, staring out at the empty yard I never planted flowers in or gave much thought to. Probably because it didn’t belong to me, and I lacked a green thumb. For a one-time farm girl, I couldn’t even maintain a city lot. “This time, this love, it’s different.”
“Different is good.” I winked.
“Different is fucking great.” He winked back.
“Miami.” I raised my bottle.
“Miami,” he said, tapping mine.
“Did I mention we got a boat?”
Choking on his beer, he said, “A boat?”
“Well,” I amended. “By Miami standards, a small boat.”
“You know how to handle a boat, superstar?”
“Nope.” I laughed. “You?”
“Nope,” he said, nudging me. “But together I bet we could figure it out.”
“And if we can’t, that’s what insurance is for, right?”
To this, Eddie didn’t answer me.
Instead, he pulled me into his lap and kissed the hell out of me.
While she was on the phone getting the scoop from Bridget, I pulled up the listing ticket for the condo we both fell in love with. It was not just any condo either. This was clutch.
Not that Detroit didn’t have its fair share of water front units, but in Miami you could actually go in the ocean. And she bought a fucking boat!
From the huge family room with floor to ceiling windows to the master suite with its own balcony, I was getting a chubby just reading the amenities list. Which led to fantasizing about my woman in the Olympic size tub that I wanted to make love to her in.
I won’t lie.
I was fucking primed for Miami.
For starting fresh.
For us.
Forever.
This was it.
We flew to Miami tomorrow, where we had a condo and new life waiting for us.
It was surreal and fucking exciting.
So that meant this was our last night in Detroit. Our last night with our friends.
The guys wanted cigars, and the girls wanted girl shit. Though we all agreed to meet up for one last drink at midnight. Then Pharis and I flew to Miami. God, I couldn’t wait to carry her over the threshold.
Checking the clock on my phone, I saw that she was running short on time before her girls arrived.
Banging on the bathroom door, I yelled, “Are you pooping?”
One of the few things Pharis quirked over and took far too seriously and personally was her shit.
“Eddie!”
“Are you still being weird about this?” I called through the door.
“I’m not being weird!” she yelled back. “Poop is private!”
“Not really.” I smiled wide. “Because the second you walk out and I walk in it’s not private, baby, it’s just the smell of fresh shit.”
“Great!” she huffed. “Now I can’t go!”
“So, can I come in and go?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m still in here!”
Pacing outside of the door because now I really had to go, when she exited, I entered only to gag.
“Christ! What did you spray?”
“Poopouri,” she said, quickly averting her eyes.
“It’s perfumed shit, Pharis,” I said, covering my nose. “How can I handle my shit when I’m gagging on yours?”
“The girls will be here soon.” She chuckled in embarrassment.
“Maybe crack a few windows then, baby, because fuck...”
After handling my shit, (like a pro), I stuck my tongue in her mouth, smacked her ass, and left to meet the guys for cigars and temporary goodbyes. Seriously, my life was good.
Eddie had always treated me like a queen.
He was kind, gentle, and romantic. Always putting me first.
Unless we were fucking. Then he was savage, and I loved that side of him too.
But, last night was something else...
Prior to our split, I would have told you that I knew everything there was to know about being a cop’s wife. If tonight’s episode was anything to go by it was that I didn’t know shit.
There were layers to Eddie, scars that ran deep and dark, maybe always had.
Things he had seen, things he had done to protect that won’t ever leave him.
I had been so hell bent on pretending I could handle it myself that I didn’t cue in on his pain.
His need to protect me. His fear of losing me.
I saw it in his eyes, felt it in the strength of his grip, the desperation of his
thrusts.
Eddie was afraid.
Which meant I needed to be as well.
Tangled up in him, still lying on the kitchen floor, I promised him, “You’re the boss, I’m the employee.”
Gripping my ass to let me know he heard, I added, “I love you, Eddie.”
And this time, I didn’t need the words.
I felt them just fine.
Eddie had just left with Butch to meet Aaron for cigar night, and the girls would be here soon for happy hour. With only a day left, we were all trying to squeeze in as much time as we could.
God knows we’d miss our friends like crazy.
After a quick FaceTime with Eddie for no other reason than to see him smile, I started scrolling through my Facebook laughing over the comments and well wishes from my relationship status change. While it was safe to say Eddie and I surpassed dating (again), I looked at my finger wondering how long it would take him to tell me we were getting re-married.
The man was seriously impatient.
But with the fresh start we’d been given and the move coming up, all he had to do was say the words, and I’d be there. I would always be there.
So, caught up in my own happy world, imagine my surprise when my back door opened and it wasn’t the girls stepping through. Confused and speechless, I swallowed a few times before I found my voice, “What in the fucksicle are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?”
Glancing down, I saw what looks like a gun pointed at me. “Hand me your phone, we’re leaving.”
Doing as instructed, I tossed it, wondering where we were going and terrified of what would happen when we got there. I married a police officer. So, I reasoned that made me the closest thing to it without the badge, training, service piece, or backup. Still, I knew shit. I knew this was bad. The second I walked out of my door, I was truly screwed.
Dammit, I was a lover not a fighter.
“No,” I choked out as bravely as possible, even adding the customary “Eat a dick” after.
It happened so quickly I had zero time to react once the needle pierced my skin.
