Authors: Bijou Hunter
T
he kids aren’t thrilled to return to school
tomorrow. My mind is searching for a new job. Cricket offers to find a job and
work rather than going to school. She even suggests I could attend school for
her.
“No one will notice. The staff is a bunch of
morons,” she says, sounding like Hayes.
Sunday night comes, and they finally get a hold of
their grandparents after nearly a week of missing them.
“Where have you been?” Chipper asks the laptop
where their grandparents’ faces beam back at them.
His grandmother wipes her cheeks since she’s always
concerned she’s wearing too much rogue. “We took a quick trip to Canada.”
“To see Communists?” Chipper asks.
Grandma Edelle looks around confused. “Communists?”
Cricket nods. “Mom’s boyfriend said Canada is full
of Communists.”
“How is school?” Grandpa Charles asks.
“We got suspended last week,” Chipper announces,
and I roll my eyes at how proud he sounds.
“Why?” Grandma Edelle cries.
Cricket leans into the camera on the laptop and
says conspiratorially. “It’s mostly politics.”
“They got into a fight,” I explain, leaning into
view. “Someone was picking on Chipper and Cricket stuck up for him. The
principal made a big deal even though no one got hurt.”
“Oh, well, public schools can be rough,” Grandma
Edelle says, looking awkward.
Grandpa Charles adds, “Perhaps your mother can look
into a private school option.”
“Mom’s thinking about homeschooling us,” Cricket
says immediately, and I pray she doesn’t mention how I quit my job. “I think
having more attention would help me get better at math.”
Her grandparents buy her bullshit and nod in
unison. They are totally duped by their darlings. I wouldn’t be surprised if
they think the kids are incapable of lying. If only they knew…
After the kids finishing quizzing Grandma and
Grandpa about their Canada trip, they show off our new adopted cat. I think the
grandparents finally realize we aren’t moving back when they see the terrified striped
cat pressed against the screen. I know they miss the twins, but this is our
home now even if I have no way to pay for any of it.
The moment the kids tell their grandparents goodbye
and hang up, I sigh with relief at how they didn’t rat me out.
“Do you think you can work at McDonald’s?” Cricket
asks, turning on the TV. “We could get discounts on hamburgers.”
“You don’t want me working at a fast food place. I
wouldn’t make enough money to keep up with your Xbox subscription.”
“We’ll ask Grandpa to get it for us. They can pay
for everything, and you can stay home and be our teacher.”
“Ah, to be young,” I tease, patting their heads.
“You have a half hour of TV before bed.”
While the kids entertain themselves, I sit at the
kitchen island and think about Hayes. I think about calling him nearly every
fucking second I’m awake. I dream of calling him too. Despite the nearly painful
need to hear his voice, I hold my ground.
The knock on the front door sends the cat into a
panic spiral. The kids turn to me like we’re under attack because apparently
visitors are a sign of the apocalypse. I wave off their concerns and casually
reach for the bat on my way to the door. Checking the peephole, I see the man
I’ve been craving for days.
Both of Hayes’s hands grip bouquets. I admire how
he covers his bases by buying two different colors, but I don’t want flowers. I
need him to understand I come from a long line of people who take shit from
people and ask for more. I refuse to be one of them. My kids need to know they
can say no too. So I told Hayes no and walked away even if it broke my heart.
Flowers won’t fix our situation.
“I am sorry,” he says like someone has rammed their
hand up his ass and turned him into a dummy.
“For what?”
Hayes frowns, and I realize he thought the words
would be enough. He’s so arrogant and stubborn. Two qualities I normally find
quite attractive in the giant asshole.
“For upsetting you,” he finally says.
Narrowing my eyes, I take one of the bouquets. “Are
you sorry for what you did to upset me or just sorry that I got upset about
what you did?”
“Whichever answer that makes you happy.”
Hayes stares at me with his dark eyes, and I know
he doesn’t feel a bit sorry for what happened. He just wants things fixed. I’d
slam the door in his face if he didn’t look a little like a sad puppy.
“You can come inside and plead your case,” I say,
stepping back.
Hayes fills the hallway with his size, and I’m
relieved he doesn’t bang his head on the doorway. The kids look up from the TV
and stare at him. He stares back at them. I don’t know who would win the
contest if I didn’t break it up by gesturing for Hayes to follow me into the kitchen.
I have nothing to put the flowers inside, so I use
two large cups. Studying the flowers now sitting on the counter, I think about
the man behind me.
“So you liked the pink ones more,” he says.
“How do you figure?”
“You took them first.”
“Only because you looked ready to break them in
half.”
Hayes’s expression shifts from sad puppy to
junkyard dog. “So I’m the bad guy with the flowers too?”
“Yes. You are
always
the bad guy.”
Hayes glares at me. “I apologized.”
“Yes, you did, but you didn’t mean it.”
“Exactly. That’s why it means so much.”
I nearly laugh at his exasperated expression.
Instead, I gesture for him to continue. “Explain.”
“If I were sorry, it’d be easy to apologize. I did
something wrong, and I should apologize. Simple. Except I don’t think I was
wrong, yet I’m still apologizing. I’m doing it anyway because your feelings
matter more than mine. Doesn’t that make me the fucking nice guy here?”
I consider his words and shrug. “I hadn’t thought
about it like that.”
Hayes takes my words as a sign of agreement and
moves closer. “So we’re good?”
“Good for what?”
Hayes stops and frowns at me. “Do you want your job
back?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want anything else?”
“I don’t want to be Honey, so where does that leave
us?”
“I said I was sorry. Does Asshole Andrew apologize
when he isn’t wrong?”
“You
were
wrong, though.”
“I yelled at you. How is that wrong? I yell at
everyone. I’ve been yelling at you since before you started. Why are you
suddenly changing the rules?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“Sometimes I can’t deal with you yelling at me.”
“It’s harmless shit. I yelled at birds the other
night. They survived and so will you.”
“What about them?” I ask, pointing at where the
kids watch TV. “Think they can handle having you yell at them?”
“I didn’t yell at them, did I?”
“Not yet.”
Hayes waves his hand dismissively. “I won’t yell at
them. They’re good kids.”
“And I’m a good assistant and don’t deserve to be
yelled at.”
“First of all, you suck at your job half of the
time, and you know that. No one should spend that much time on Amazon while at
work.”
“I like to window shop,” I say, shrugging.
“You are a great assistant the other half of the
time. One thing you’re great at is knowing I’m full of hot air when I yell at
you.”
I shrug again, not budging. Frustrated, Hayes
glares at me for nearly a minute and then he has a light bulb moment. I see in
his eyes how he’s figured something out.
“You weren’t thinking like my assistant when you
threw your fit.”
“I did not throw a fit.”
“You were thinking like my… girlfriend or woman or
whatever. You weren’t thinking about your boss yelling at you, but your man and
that’s why you got your panties in a bunch.”
“I don’t want to end up like Honey. She got beaten
down by Douche’s crap until she couldn’t tell him no,” I say, crossing my arms
defensively.
“That’ll never happen to you. I’m not him, and I
don’t want you beaten down. I want you to be you. I just don’t want you making
me change either.”
“You can’t yell at my kids,” I say, uncrossing my
arms and stepping closer. “I don’t want them learning to eat shit when they’re
young. It’s in their blood to make a habit of getting stepped on. I want them
to grow up expecting to be treated well.”
“This isn’t about your kids. It’s about you.”
“I know, but I can’t explain why your yelling upset
me that day. It just did. You made me feel like shit, and I don’t let people
treat me that way.”
Hayes blinks a few times and then something shifts
in his gaze.
Oh, boy, I realize, he’s turning on the charm.
Erasing the few feet between us, Hayes reaches out
and caresses my messy hair. “We need a safe word. That way, when you’re feeling
especially sensitive and I'm especially loud you can let me know before I end
up in trouble.”
“A safe word, huh? Sounds sexy.”
Hayes smiles softly, and I realize he’s really
laying on the sweet guy shtick. I might be done for if he keeps it up.
“What if I hadn’t agreed to let you come inside?” I
ask. “Would you consider me your enemy? Kick me out of the house? Ruin me like
you ruin your enemies?”
“Even if you did me wrong, I’d never see you as my
enemy,” he whispers. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. You cleaned up my
office. Most importantly, you make me laugh, and people rarely make me laugh.
You’re a one of a kind woman, so you’ll never be my enemy.”
Rolling my eyes, I grumble, “Asshole.”
“I want you to know,” he says ever so softly, “that
I never pull this nice guy bullshit on anyone, but I’m doing it for you.”
Hayes leans down, and I notice a hint of hesitancy
in his kiss. He worries I’ll cut him short. Our lips meet for a moment, maybe
two, but I don’t allow the kiss to deepen. As much as I want to taste Hayes,
the kids can see us if they turn around. Knowing them, they’ve been peeking
since he arrived.
“I missed you,” I say, pulling away. “I really
did.”
“Would you have broken down and apologized if I
hadn’t?”
“Probably, but I would have lasted longer than you.
I’m just made out of stronger mettle.”
“Funny,” he murmurs before following my gaze to
where the twins now fully stare at us.
“We need a word for when Hayes is getting too
loud,” I say, focusing them on something besides Mom and a man kissing in the
kitchen. “What’s a good word to use?”
Chipper looks at his sister who is staring at
Hayes. “How about Doritos?”
Cricket grins and focuses on her brother. “Yeah,
Doritos.”
I walk into the living room and grin. “Okay,
Doritos, it is.”
“Inside joke?” Hayes asks, seeming awkward, which
isn’t a good look on him. The man should reek of bravado, but he’s feeling out
of place.
“What do you get when you mix a potato with a
tomato?” I ask, and the kids snicker.
“I don’t know.”
“Doritos,” the twins announce.
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s a joke they came up with.”
Hayes opens his mouth, and I suspect he plans to
poop on their parade. Fortunately, his brain works faster than his mouth.
“Funny,” he says instead.
“Are you staying here?” Cricket asks Hayes.
“I don’t know.”
“You can sleep in my bed,” Chipper offers.
“Yeah, and we’ll sleep with Mom,” Cricket adds
because Hayes isn’t the only one who likes to poop on people’s parades.
I caress Hayes's shoulder. “He’s too big for your
bed, but that was a nice offer.”
“Maybe I should go,” Hayes says without making any
effort to sell his words.
“Or you could stay the night.”
“Grownups have sleepovers?” Cricket asks like a
smartass.
Narrowing my eyes at my daughter, I grumble,
“Finish watching your show so you can get ready for bed.”
Chipper and Cricket turn around, but I hear them
whispering to each other. Hayes joins me in the kitchen where I set out the
rules.
“No sex.”
“Ever? I don’t think I can agree to that.”
Grinning, I glance at the kids. “I think I’ve done
a good job raising them to be emotionally healthy. I don’t want them hearing
anything and being horribly traumatized.”
“You do get very loud sometimes. Not that I blame
you.”
“You growl like a fucking bear. They’ll think I’m
under attack.”