Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Rolling my eyes, I continued. “Frankie isn’t gone. She’s away at college. And if she’s not answering your calls, that’s likely because you embarrassed the shit out of her the last time she was with you—which you know damn well and good since she told you that you did. If you’re still not able to get a hold of her, maybe you should try being nice to her instead of leaving her a voicemail telling her how disappointed you are in her.”
The novelty of this was lost on my ex-wife.
I could tell just by the anger simmering in her eyes.
“I call, and she should answer. There is no other option. I’m the mother, and she’s the child. That’s just the way it is,” Beatrice replied stubbornly.
I sighed and wondered how much more of this I would have to deal with.
I’d divorced her because she drove me goddamn nuts.
Though, if I were being honest, if it hadn’t been for my daughter asking me ‘why I was still with her mother,’ I would’ve probably still been there dealing with it.
I didn’t like to make waves. I’d had enough of that during my DS—drill sergeant—days. I wanted to live my life. I wanted to work. I wanted to come home, and I wanted to repeat the process.
About two years into our marriage, I’d become so disillusioned to the idea of ever being happy with Beatrice that I was in a constant state of depression. Honestly, the only reason I found even the slightest bit of satisfaction during that relationship was due to the fact that I wasn’t actually home all that much.
Which also kind of sucked because that meant that Frankie was with her.
Luckily, Frankie had her grandfather—Beatrice’s dad. My only remaining parent—my mom—passed away about a year into our marriage due to a car crash.
But, Frankie’s grandfather was great with her, and when she wasn’t with me, she was with him.
When Frankie had flat out asked me why I never left her mother, I didn’t have a good answer for her.
Sure, I guess I could’ve said that I wanted to make it work for her sake but that would’ve been a lie.
I really had no clue why I’d stayed for as long as I did.
Not one single person blamed me for divorcing her—at least not anyone who mattered.
“Are you even listening to me?” Beatrice snapped.
“No,” I admitted. “I’m fucking busy, and I don’t know why we have to have this conversation at all. I’ve said what I wanted to say during the phone call you forced me to endure yesterday. I hoped that once you got all of that off your chest, you’d leave me the fuck alone and allow me to live my life.”
I wished it were possible to get a restraining order against the damn woman. I’d even looked into it with Tyler Cree, the chief of police. However, he’d informed me that I couldn’t get a restraining order against someone that I didn’t like. Apparently, that just wasn’t how they worked. I needed to have a legitimate excuse for one to be granted. He gave me some examples, you know like death threats, sexual assault or stalking.
And unfortunately, a nagging ex-wife that you hated wasn’t one of the things that would warrant a restraining order.
Bummer.
“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” Beatrice hissed. “This is about our daughter!”
I’d had enough.
The stupid flower beds were about to be run over. I had no choice.
I started the bike and was just about to take the begonias out when my neighbor headed out the door looking like she was on a mission.
She headed straight for Beatrice and then tapped her on her shoulder. Beatrice shifted just enough to allow me to get by.
Over Beatrice’s head, I saw the neighbor give me a short chin tilt, indicating that I should leave while she had her occupied. With relief, I did. My father taught me to never look a gift horse in the mouth.
I left, and only once did I look back.
And let’s just say, it wasn’t because I wanted to get a long, lingering look at my ex-wife.
***
Cora
I don’t know what made me do it.
Maybe it was the look on his face after he’d spoken to his ex-wife in the Taco Shop. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been eating dinner by himself. Whatever the reason, I found myself drawing him something that would hopefully make him smile.
I had no idea, however, that he’d frame it and hang it up in his office.
Chapter 4
The only thought I have while talking to someone is ‘how do I make this stop?’
-Cora’s secret thoughts
Cora
“Hey, Fire Crotch.”
I would’ve slammed the door closed had Janie not waltzed right in before I could. Kayla came in with Janie right behind her followed by another woman who looked vaguely familiar.