Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Sit down,” I ordered, my patience fraying.
“This isn’t open for discussion,” she said, her ass hitting the stair again. “I have to work.”
“Jesus,” I murmured, staring at the mutinous set of her mouth and the way her body practically thrummed with tension. “What the fuck did they do to you?”
“What do you mean?” The words were indifferent. Condescending, even. I ignored them.
“Why would you twist yourself in knots to work a job that you hate when you don’t need to?” I asked gently. “What did they say to you to make you think that you had to do that?”
“Making me pull my own weight isn’t some horrible thing.”
“Jesus Christ, Emilia,” I spat. “You already pull your own weight and half of mine.”
She scoffed and shook her head.
“You’re takin’ care of our son.”
She didn’t respond.
“You’re takin’ care of the house—it hasn’t been this clean since I fuckin’ moved in. Doin’ the grocery shoppin’ so I don’t have to—”
“I live here, too,” she said, cutting me off. “Of course I clean up after myself.”
“Let’s be real here,” I replied. “You clean up after all three of us. You do three times the shit I do around here. How’s that not pulling your weight?”
“Like I said,” she muttered stubbornly. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. I have a job, and I’m going to go back tomorrow.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll call my fuckin’ cousin and ask her to fire you.”
“She’ll never listen to you.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Why are you doing this?” she barked, getting to her feet. “Why is this such a big deal?”
“You tell me,” I replied, standing. “What the fuck is goin’ on in that head that’s convincin’ you to go back to a job that makes you throw up and hack off your hair?”
“I’m going to pull my own weight—”
“There’s that phrase again,” I rasped darkly. “Where’d you hear it?”
“It’s a common phrase.”
“You keep usin’ it.”
“Maybe because I’ve heard it a few million times,” she shot back in frustration. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she paled.
“You haven’t heard it from me,” I said softly. “You wouldn’t ever hear it from me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest again, looking at her feet.
“You don’t gotta do anythin’ but be here, sugar,” I continued, watching her struggle, hoping she’d fucking believe me. “Me and you aren’t keepin’ score. You can do whatever you fuckin’ want, sleep all day, spend the entire day at the park with Rhett watchin’ the ducks, train to be a fuckin’ clown for all I care. I don’t need you tryin’ to meet some ideal of your share of the load—I just need you to be here with me. That’s it.”
“No one wants an albatross around their neck,” she whispered, raising her head.
“I do,” I countered. “Baby, I’d carry both our weight every day and twice on Sundays. No joke.”
“But for how long though?” she asked with a sad smile.
“Forever. I already told you that.” I waited a few seconds for my words to sink in, then reached out and pulled on a strand of her crazy hair. “But not if you’re keepin’ this haircut. A man can only take so much.”
“Shut up,” she said, shoving at my chest. “You’re not funny.”
“Who’s jokin’?”
I was about to pull her against me, hoping I’d gotten through to her, when a little voice at the top of the stairs made my heart drop into my stomach.
“Daddy!” Rhett called happily. Half a second later, he was stepping off the top stair like he knew exactly what to do and I was lurching forward, trying to stop him.
Emilia got there first. Just as Rhett missed the first stair and started to tumble, Emilia hit her knees a few stairs down and caught him before he made contact. He screeched in surprise as I came up behind her and helped to turn Rhett right side up.
“No, Rhett,” Emilia said, her voice stern before they both burst into tears. “No stairs!”
I dropped onto my ass and pulled them both onto my lap as I tried to catch my breath.
“Don’t pull your weight, my ass,” I mumbled, my heart still racing. “Jesus. We’re goin’ to get a gate right the fuck now.”
“After I get dressed,” Emilia said, sniffling as she kissed Rhett’s hair. “I’m not leaving the house in this… and I think I peed my pants a little.”
“Better than me,” I joked with a shudder. “Pretty sure I shit mine.”
Emilia started giggling, and I smiled. “Come on, Rhett,” I said, gently pulling him away from his mother. “Let’s get you dressed while Mama gets ready.”
It took nearly as long to change Rhett—he had shit his pants—and get him dressed as it did for Emilia to get ready. I’d just barely gotten his little shoes on when she came swinging into the room, her eyes wide.