by Hart, Cary
“Hold please,” I cut her off with a smile and answer Jeffery. “Hey, honey. What’s going on?”
“Where are you at?” His deep voice rumbles through the speaker. “I need to talk to you.”
“I made a quick stop on my way home. Is everything okay?” My forehead scrunches. Something seems wrong. Very wrong. Jeffery isn’t a talker, more of a head nodder. Don’t get me wrong, we have our conversations about what’s going on in the world, but when it has to do with menial things like what’s for dinner, movies, or even work, he tends to nod.
“Oh—um—yeah, it’s fine.” He stumbles over his words. “I’m almost home. This needs to happen in person. So, meet me there,” he commands as my phone beeps. I roll my eyes as CJ’s name flashes across the screen. I must have accidentally hung up on her. Oops!
“Okay, I’m about twenty minutes away. I’ll see you soon.”
“Perfect. When you get home, don’t go into the bedroom. Wait for me,” Jeffery insists.
I perk up at the request. This can only mean one thing.
“If you say so.” I smile.
“I do.” He ends the call, and CJ rings in. “I didn’t mean to hang—”
“Never mind that,” she cuts in. “What did Dahmer want that had you hanging up on me?”
“CJ!” I shout, ignoring the obvious insult. “I think Jeffery is finally going to pop the question,” I blurt while bouncing in my seat.
“Wh-Wh-What?” CJ chokes out. “You have been dating for over six years and every time we get together for a girl’s night, you complain about him never asking, yet he calls for five minutes—”
“Five very long minutes,” I butt in.
“Yeah, it did seem like forever, but…it wasn’t.”
“I know, but Jeffery and I have a plan. Do you know he asked me how I wanted to be proposed to?”
“Are you kidding me right now? Clover, listen to yourself. He had to ask you how you wanted to be proposed to. That doesn’t sound like a man you should be marrying.”
“Jeez, mood killer. Can’t you be happy for me?”
To most people, this would seem like an insincere gesture, but my Jeffery knows me. He knows I have a plan, and that plan includes a rose petal trail that leads to a bedroom glowing with hundreds of candles and him on one knee with a tiny blue box from Tiffany’s. It’s a day I have been dreaming of since forever—and it’s finally here.
CJ sighs. “Listen, Clo, I know you have a plan, but I don’t think—”
“I know you don’t like him, but I have waited all my life for this moment,” I plead with her.
Jeffery isn’t the easiest person to be around, but I need my friends to understand this is forever. I mean, it’s been six years and he hasn’t gone anywhere yet.
“Your plan,” she whispers.
“My plan,” I agree.
“Then shut up, hurry home, and make french vanilla with your man. Clover Kelley has a plan!”
“That’s right! I’m getting married!”
Or so I thought…
CHAPTER 2
CLOVER
This isn’t so bad…
Red lip—check.
Girls front and center—check, check.
I went from uptight real estate agent selling houses to a sexy seductress glamming it up for my very own open house—if you know what I mean.
“Clover?” Jeffery hollers out from the front room.
“In the bathroom. Give me a minute.”
Shaking off the nerves, I stare at my reflection.
Hair down?
Bright lips?
Unbuttoned blouse?
Hiked up skirt?
This isn’t me, but I thought maybe CJ was right—maybe I did need to spice it up a little. This, though…this is a far cry from french vanilla. This is more like a Mexican vanilla with a little too much chili powder. It was ridiculous for me to think Jeffery would be into this. After six years, you tend to know someone.
“He loves you…for you,” I whisper to myself as I reach for the makeup remover towelette and swipe at my lips, careful to not smear the Russian red stain. “You are enough,” I remind myself as I toss the wipe in the trash and smile.
I know Jeffery Dalton, my future fiancé, better than anyone. I’m his perfect as he’s mine.
“Clover, we really need to talk.” Jeffery’s voice vibrates down the hall.
“Coming!” I hurry to button up my white charmeuse silk blouse and smooth down the black and gray pin-striped pencil skirt.
“Clover?” The door swings open, and in this moment, I have two choices: stand there, eyes wide, like a moron, or jump into his arms and start this proposal off with a bang. I opt for neither.
There’s nothing for me to worry about. These nerves…they’re normal. Taking a deep breath, I step forward and wrap my arms, one by one, around Jeffery’s neck, welcoming him home.
“Looking for me?” I whisper across his lips.
“We need to talk,” he demands.
Hmm? This is new. Jeffery isn’t really a demanding guy. Assertive, yes—but demanding? Not so much. Maybe he’s as nervous as I am? I mean, we are talking forever here.
“You don’t say?” I flirt back, trying to ease his mind.
“Clover, we’ve been together for six wonderful years…”
Oh my God!
Here it comes. The moment I’ve been waiting for. Just me and my dream guy standing right—in the middle of the—wait…we’re in the middle of the bathroom. Okay, it’s not excactly how I pictured it, but when you can’t wait, you can’t wait.
“Yes, it’s a long time,” I cut in, practically bouncing from foot to foot, waiting for him to say those four glorious words.
“Agreed.” He nods as he reaches up behind his neck and pulls one hand down, then the other.
I hold my breath, afraid I’m going to interrupt this magical moment.
Here it comes.
“In six years, you should know whether it’s going to lead to something more and, Clover, I think we should—”
“Yes! It’s always yes!” I say at the same time he says, “Break up.”
I hear the words, but they don’t register. Instead, I drop his hands, fly into his arms, and feather kisses all over his face as I repeat the word yes over and over again.
“Clover…” Jeffery stiffens. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I love you so much, Jeffery. I have waited forever for you to say those—”
“Break up?” Jeffery questions as he lets out a nervous chuckle. “Thank God. Clover, you don’t know how relieved I am you say that. After all these years, I thought you surely would have flipped out. I mean, you have spent your whole life following those rules for that ridiculous plan. Years and years of those stupid rules.”
My plan?
Breakup?
Everything comes crashing down at once. The reality of his words sink in.
“Clover? Clover, can you hear me?” Jeffery’s hands are firm on my shoulders as his brown eyes meet my blue. “Shit, Clover. You’re turning blue. Breathe, honey.”
I’m not sure what came over me in that moment, but when you are deprived of oxygen, your thoughts become screams. With each pounding pulse of my heartbeat, everything suddenly became clear. It’s over.
I exhale and say the first thing that comes to mind. “You have shitty brown eyes.”
“You scared me…wait—what did you say?” His face twists with confusion as he straightens.
This is where I should ignore his question and ask him why. Plead for him to stay. Convince Jeffery what he’s feeling is normal. Instead, I let go. Every—single—annoying—quirk I’ve overlooked comes flooding—front and center.
Narrowing my eyes, I open my mouth and let the word vomit fly. “You heard me, jerk. You have shitty brown eyes,” I throw a finger in his face and twirl it around, “and a unibrow. A big, fat, out-of-control, hairy unibrow.”
“I do?” He turns to examine himself in the mirror.
Okay, maybe it’s not a unibrow, but saying it made me feel good, and this is about me making him feel like shit so I can feel better. After all, he’s the one who wasted six years of my life. Six freaking years!
Hmm…I wonder what it would feel like if I just took his head and bashed it against the mirror? Because I want to. So bad.
“What?” Jeffery snaps his head in my direction.
“Oops! Did I say that out loud?” I smirk.
“Clover, I know this is hard,” he tries to continue, but why? What’s the point? He already ripped my heart out, and now he wants to stomp all over it by telling me everything I did wrong? Not happening, Buddy.
“You don’t get to go there, but I do. Jeffery, do you want to know what is hard?” I don’t give him time to answer. “Wasting my love on you. For six years, I loved you. I gave you everything I had—and for what?” I throw my hands up. “For a head nod? A weekly romp in the sack?”
“Clover, it wasn’t like…” he pleads.
“Wasn’t like what, Jeffery? Because it is exactly like that. I gave you everything I am. Everything.” I tried to hold them back, but tears begin to fall. One by one, shedding over the life I’ll never have.
“Honey, please don’t cry.” He reaches up to swipe the tears away.
“You don’t get to do that.” I slap his hand away. “You claimed my heart, you don’t get to claim the tears.” I reach up and wipe my own tears, ashamed I’m letting this man see me cry. “I dedicated myself to you.”
“That’s where you are wrong,” he interrupts. “You dedicated yourself to that stupid binder of yours. You loved that plan more than you loved me and when—”
“Jeffery, are you okay in there?” A squeaky voice echoes in the foyer, and my head whips around to my asshole of an ex.
“Clover…” He holds his hands up. “It’s not what you think.”
My eyes dart between the doorway and Jeffery the jackoff. “It sounds like to me there is another woman in our house worried about you.” I throw his hand down and rush out to find out who that annoying voice belongs to.
“Okay, so maybe it’s exactly what you think, but I was trying to tell you…” Jeffery chases after me, but I refuse to let his words tackle me. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her…”
His confession makes me stumble, but I’m determined to keep going.
“It was only supposed to be one night,” he continued as we rounded the corner. “But then one night turned into forever.”
That did it. That last one is like a punch to the gut.
“What did you say?”
“Clover, she’s pregnant,” he admits as he walks right past me to the Victoria’s Secret looking Angel standing in front of us.
“Hiyee.” She waves to us both. “That’s me. I’m the one with the bun in the oven.” She smiles as if nothing is wrong. Like it’s perfectly natural for the three of us to be standing here. Man, woman, and mistress.
You know that Sesame Street song “One of These Things (is Not Like the Other).” This is one of those times. Except I’m the one on the outside looking in.
“Is this really happening?” I look at the man I thought I knew whispering something to his baby momma. If I think of her any other way, I may lose my shit right here and now.
“Angel, can you give us a minute?” He nods over to the living room.
“Sure thing, Poogie Bear.” She gives him a quick peck on the cheek just as Kramer decides to bark. “Oh-em-gee! You have a dog?” she squeals and skips into the other room.
“It’s a barking cockatoo!” I yell after her before I turn and glare at Jeffery. “So, Poogie Bear, does your Angel have a name?”
“Her name is Angel.”
“Of course it is.”
“You know I don’t do nicknames.”
“No, I don’t know that because everything I thought I knew isn’t real,” I spit back.
“Come on, Clover. That isn’t fair.”
“Not fair? Are you kidding me right now? What’s not fair is that I’m standing here while your pregnant girlfriend is playing with my barking bird you bought me for my twenty-fifth birthday.”
I hated that bird when Jeffery brought him home. Jeffery the Jackoff was allergic to dogs, and…well, I love them. So, I did what any loving girlfriend would do: I compromised. I found a hypoallergenic dog for us to adopt. I know they aren’t really hypoallergenic, but paired with his meds and a controlled living space, Jeffery would have been fine. Except he didn’t come home with the dog. Nope! He came home with a cockatoo the shelter owner was desperately trying to get rid of.
This bird would bark nonstop at the shelter dogs. You could only imagine what life was like for the owner, so when he saw Jeffery, a man allergic to every man’s best friend, he pounced, convinced him it was the perfect solution. Needless to say, I wasn’t too happy.
The dog was a part of my plan. You know, like Marley and Me. I wanted that life. I wanted the late nights, the run in the park, the chewed-up shoes…okay, maybe not the shoes, but a puppy is supposed to prepare you for parenthood.
Then Kramer and I bonded the next day. Jeffery was irritated at his new gift for keeping him up and slammed the door on the way out. I silently flipped him the bird, so to speak, and Kramer…well, he let out a slew of curse words that would make a sailor blush, then climbed up into my lap and nudged me to pet him.
So, yeah…Kramer is mine.
“Jeffery, can we quit pretending here?” I move to stand by the door, hand on the knob, ready to kick these two out.
“Fine. Let’s get down to business.” Coming to stand beside me, he pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it over. “I have packed most of your clothes and boxed up all of your belongings in the bedroom.”
“Wh-What?” I stumble over the words. I was prepared to send him packing and forgot one major detail: Jeffery inherited this brownstone from his parents. I’m homeless.
“I know this is hard, but this list should help.” He reaches over, running his finger along the little Post-It note that sums up our life together.
Move out.
Divide the business.
Split the savings.
Sign over the car title.
“Now, I assumed you would want to leave right away given the circumstance.” Oh, right! Baby momma. “But if you need more time, I can grab a few things and stay at Angel’s.”
“Of course, you will.”
He’s taken care of everything. My whole life, I’ve planned for my happily ever after, and with a few swipes of a pen, he’s destroyed it.
“I’ve signed over the title to you and transferred your half of the savings to your business account. I’ve also taken care of Lucky Listings.”
“Jeffery, that’s mine. I’ve made Lucky Listings what it is today. I’m the one who sells homes to families each and every day. I built that—not you.”
I begin to panic. Lucky Listings has always been mine. Jeffery did put up the down payment and co-sign, but that was only to build my credit, and should have been a non-issue since we were supposed to spend forever together. What’s mine is his and what’s his should be mine. Wrong.
“Calm down, Clover. What kind of guy do you think I am? Dalton Enterprises is worth billions, I don’t need your—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Jeffery. You are only worth billions because your daddy built that company with old money. With Lucky Listings, I can honestly say I built it from the ground up and made it what it is today,” I snap back.
“Okay, I can see this isn’t going as planned.” Jeffery backs away and hollers for Angel before he continues. “As I said before, I’m sorry, but I took measures to protect you. The car is yours, the savings is yours, the business is yours, but the house…it’s mine.”
“And mine.” Bleach blonde baby momma comes bouncing back in the room. “Poogie Bear, can we keep the bird? He’s totes adorbs and has this cute little Mohawk. We can name him Spike.”
&n
bsp; “It’s Kramer,” I defend my little cockatoo.
“Spike is more fitting, don’t you think?” Angel chimes in. “Like, I mean, he does have a Mohawk.”
Listen, Barbie. Don’t fuck with my bird.
“And, like, Kramer has, like, this totes crazy hair, which is why I totally named him that,” I mock. Where did he find her?
“Who’s Kramer?” She stands there, confused.
“He’s from Seinfeld, that TV show about…” I begin, but realize she’s already off, walking around the front room, looking and touching everything. “You know what? It doesn’t matter, the bird is going with me.”
I’m not sure how it happened, but I lost control of this conversation. Just an hour ago, I was in the car thinking I was going to become the future Mrs. Jeffery Michael Dalton, and now I’m standing here letting them tell me what I’m going to do with my life—how I’m going to proceed without him.
“So, when do you think you’ll be moved out so I can let my decorator know?” baby momma blurts out, and I can’t help but stand there dumbfounded at her statement. I don’t know if I want to scream or smack some sense into her. The hands-on approach is very tempting.
“Angel, honey. Let’s give Clover some space,” Jeffery says as he pulls her in for an embrace. “Plus, I want to introduce you to Mr. Hawkins, your new neighbor.”
She giggles.
I giggle and roll my eyes.
He side-eyes me.
I mentally flip him off and telepathically summon Kramer to spew all the bad things.
He doesn’t.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Clover. I never meant to hurt you.” Jeffery opens the door and guides his baby momma out. “Please take as long as you need. The last thing I want is for you to feel pushed out of your home.”
This isn’t my home. It was only a temporary place for us until we settled down to start our family. The furniture, the décor…everything in this house is Jeffery. I tolerated it because it wasn’t our forever home.
“I’ll have my attorney send the documents over to your office Monday morning. Just sign the marked pages and Lucky Listings is yours.”