“You need to leave. Now,” he returned. “I calm down, you calm down, we’ll talk.”
“About what?” she asked. “How you’re testing me? How many tests do I have to pass, Merry? I mean, you shit all over our marriage. You shit all over our future. Then you shit all over me for years. And now you’re dating the town slut, rubbing that in my face when—”
He advanced, she retreated, and neither stopped doing it until he had her pinned against the living room wall.
He didn’t touch her and kept his distance, but she felt him. He knew she knew she’d pushed too far. He knew this because she pressed against the wall and didn’t move.
“You ever fuckin’ talk to my face or I even hear you spewed shit like that about Cher again, Mia, so help me God, the over we’re already over will be history. You won’t even be a memory, good or bad. I’ll erase you so completely, I see your fuckin’ face, you’ll think I have no clue who you are.”
“Merry,” she breathed, eyes big, his name coming out pained.
“I wanted to sit down and talk about this, but you’re here and you’re like you are, which means I’m not big on seein’ you ever again, so this is happenin’ now,” he declared.
Then he gave it to her.
“I fucked up. I fucked us up. You’re right. I shit all over our marriage. I did that and I own that. It sucks I hurt you because…once, I loved you. Once, you meant everything to me. But I was fucked in the head. I fucked us up because I was terrified of what it would do to you if somethin’ happened to me and you lost me. I’ve felt that loss and know it’s an empty that never gets filled and I didn’t want that for you. I should have talked that out with you. I should have worked that out with you. I didn’t. And that was my fuckup.”
“I—”
He didn’t even let her get started.
“I’ve had a chance to think and as shit as that was, me doin’ that to you, and as shit as it was, me continuing to fuck you even after I made us over, you didn’t have it in you to deal. You don’t have it in you to deal. You lost me in a way you could’ve gotten me back. You knew it, fuckin’ everyone knew it, but you didn’t do it. So I fucked up. You fucked up. We’re even and we’re movin’ on.”
“But I want us—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Mia. I made this plain. I wanted us to sort our shit so we could move on without it fuckin’ up the memory of what we had. I told you we were over. I start somethin’ important with a woman who means a good fuckin’ deal to me and you come to my home, shovin’ me and gettin’ in my face, sayin’ jacked shit about that woman. So now that memory is gonna stay fucked. And not because I made it that way.” He lifted a hand and jabbed a finger toward her face. “You did.”
He stepped back and to the side but kept his eyes locked to her.
“Now get the fuck outta my house and do not ever come back. We are done, Mia.”
She didn’t move an inch, not even her gaze from his.
“I love you,” she whispered.
The last five years, he’d lived for her to say those words.
Now they meant nothing.
He shook his head.
She had no clue.
“Love is facing head on somethin’ that threatens it and not bending, sure as fuck not breaking, when that thing leans on you to let go. You don’t have that. In your way, I know you loved me. My way of lovin’ you was just as fucked up. We screwed that up so badly, there’s no goin’ back. At this point, the best we got is not jackin’ our shit again with someone else. I got every intention of not makin’ that same mistake twice with what I’m starting with a good woman who means somethin’ to me. I’m pissed as hell at you right now, but I hope you find you got it in you to do the same with your man. The one thing I’m certain about is that there’s nothin’ left between you and me.”
“I refuse to believe you mean that,” she replied earnestly.
He stared at her.
Yeah, she had no clue.
And at that point, he had no options, so he put his hands on his hips as he looked to the floor.
“Merry,” she called.
He lifted his head. “Get out.”
“But…Merry—”
He leaned her way and clipped, “Get…the fuck…out.”
She studied him, and when his body shifted, she said quickly, “Maybe we should find a time to talk when we’ve both calmed down.”
“Fuckin’ shit,” he muttered and moved, taking the only option she was giving him.
He went to his jacket and shrugged it on. He grabbed his phone, shoved it in his pocket, and nabbed his keys.
He then went to the door and looked back to his ex-wife, who had only moved a few feet from the wall.
“I’m goin’ out,” he shared. “I don’t got much I give a shit about, though it’d suck havin’ to buy a new TV. Now you can either get out so I can lock up and keep that TV, or you can stay until you finally catch my drift. All I ask is you close the door. If you’re here when I come back, I’ll go to a hotel. What I am not gonna do is spend more time with you. You got five seconds. What’s it gonna be?”
“Merry, you can’t just…”
She kept talking, but Garrett didn’t listen.
He counted to five.
Then he walked out, closing the door behind him while Mia was still talking.
* * * * *
Garrett got fast food for dinner, trying to calm down before he hit J&J’s.
He would find he didn’t succeed when he opened the door, his eyes going behind the bar to see Cher there with Jack. She took one look at him and her face shifted from the grin that was starting into a freeze.
She began walking down the bar.
He moved in, taking it in.
It was relatively early on a Saturday night, but the place was in full swing. Darryl was there and Dee was working the floor.
Jack and Cher had the bar.
But the stools at the end were all empty, waiting for the men who usually claimed them. None of them were there mostly because all of them had women they preferred to be with on a Saturday night, so they wouldn’t be at a bar unless their women were with them.
Except Merry.
Like Colt, his woman worked there.
He hit a stool and she was right in front of him.
He barely had his ass on the seat before she remarked, “I’d say this was a nice surprise except you look like you wanna kill somebody.”
“Mia’s heard about us.”
She stared at him before she turned and reached to the top-shelf whisky.
Yeah, they knew each other. This wasn’t just starting out. They’d laid the foundation. They’d just added fucking fantastic sex and expensive dinners and him getting more of Cher’s smart mouth.
And her sweet.
“Baby, aim lower. I got a taste for the good stuff, but my budget’s bein’ revised,” he said.
He saw her body jolt, she gave him a look over her shoulder, then she reached lower.
As she poured him his drink, he took in her tight red top, her ass in her jeans, and her high heels. Finally, he felt himself calming.
“Good news is, the talk me and her had to have is done,” he shared.
She set the bottle aside and leaned in to her forearms. “Yeah?”
“Not the way I wanted it to go,” he said.
When he took a sip of whisky and didn’t elucidate, she prompted, “Talk to me, gorgeous.”
Garrett shrugged slightly.
“Said what I had to say,” he told her. “Seein’ as she came in pissed as all hell, thinkin’ me goin’ out with you was me testin’ her, not sure she heard. She said a few words. I returned a fuckuva lot more. Not thinkin’ she got me seein’ as I told her to get her ass out, but she didn’t leave, so I did. She might still be at my place. Or, alternately, she left, leavin’ my pad wide open and I’ll get home later to find I need to go out and buy a new TV.”
As he spoke, he watched her eyes get big, a
nd when he was done, she asked, “You left her there?”
“Yeah. Closed the door on her, she was still talkin’.”
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
“She wouldn’t leave and I was done, so I had no choice.”
Her lips twitched.
He might be calming, but he found not one thing funny.
“It wasn’t the way I wanted it to go, Cher,” he reminded her.
“You walked out with your ex-wife in your place,” she stated.
“Couldn’t strong-arm the bitch,” he pointed out. “She was okay with shovin’ me, but man’s any man at all, he’s got it in him to check it even if he’s itchin’ to shove back.”
Her lips were no longer twitching.
“She shoved you?”
“Twice.”
He saw that he might be calming, but Cher was not.
“You’re fucking shitting me,” she spat.
No, she was not calming, and as cute as she looked, preparing to turn into a hellcat for him, it was time to focus on calming her.
“It’s done. May take a while, but if the words don’t sink in, my actions will. Only thing I gotta worry about now is hittin’ my place later and findin’ it cleaned out. I got a plan to take my girl’s boy out with her and her mom to celebrate his birthday at Swank’s. Won’t be able to do that if I gotta drop two large on a TV.”
That did it. All the anger vanished when he talked about taking Ethan to Swank’s for his birthday.
But her lips parted when he talked about dropping two grand on a television.
“Two large?” she asked, her eyebrows going up.
“Gotta get a new one, not gonna fuck around. Trade up. Eighty inches.”
“Your media center won’t fit an eighty-inch TV,” she noted.
“Then I’ll also have to buy a new media center.”
She stared.
Then she busted out laughing.
And that was it.
All that he needed.
Cher was laughing.
Garrett was calm.
He reached out and nabbed her hand.
She didn’t pull away.
More for the ’burg to chew on and he felt the eyes. He knew that he and Cher were the latest meal.
He didn’t care. And even if he did, he’d care less when her hand latched on to his and she leaned deep across the bar.
“Silver lining, gorgeous, your to-do list is one lighter,” she said, still laughing.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
She held his hand and hers tightened as the humor slid from her.
“Sucks, baby,” she whispered. “Wish it didn’t go down like that for you.”
He did too.
But at least it was done.
He just had to hope his message finally leaked in so Mia would stop her shit.
Then again, he was going to look for a new place (another reason to hope his TV was there when he got back; he didn’t need that outlay lightening his down payment). Eventually, he’d move and she wouldn’t be able to find him.
Or he’d have her ass arrested for harassment.
One way or another, the message would get across.
He looked into Cher’s warm brown eyes as they looked into his, assessing to see if he was okay.
To show her he was, he asked, “My good girl find time for just her and me?”
Those eyes went soft and her fingers stayed firm around his when she replied, “Batten down the hatches, Merry. Had a chat with Mom. Family dinner is set for Thursday with your ass in a seat at her table.”
“Terrific,” he muttered, and she smiled.
“But I got Saturday off and Ethan has a sleepover at a friend’s, so I’m all yours.”
“I’m on call.”
“Fuck,” she whispered.
“On call doesn’t mean on a desk,” he told her. “Just means I might have to leave, but it also means I can come back.”
Her eyes brightened. “That works, honey.”
It did. It was his life. And if he didn’t jack it up, it could be hers. So it was good she could work with it.
“Now, you gonna let that whisky sit forever, or are you gonna rinse away the shit and get loose with me while I’m workin’?” she asked.
He gave her his answer by letting her go, grabbing his glass, and taking another sip.
She approved by smiling.
“Gotta make sure things are covered,” she told him. “But I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here.”
She liked that. He knew because she didn’t hide it.
And he liked all that.
Yeah, they were working and doing it in a way he knew deep into his gut that wouldn’t quit.
Unless he jacked it up.
“Go easy,” she advised as he let her hand go. “That shit only costs ten bucks a go, but a pissed off ex-wife left at your pad, you might be dealin’ with more than a boosted TV.”
“Way to kill a calm, baby,” he muttered but did it grinning.
“Just bein’ real, makin’ sure you don’t get blindsided,” she returned and leaned back in. “But, just sayin’, the bitch trashes your place, you can catch your shows at mine. The spirit of Jerry Garcia likes company.”
That was when Garrett busted out laughing.
Which was when Cher knew it was safe to leave.
She did, making drinks, filling Dee’s tray.
But she came back. Jack also came over to chat. And Dee stopped by to shoot the shit.
When they were gone and sometimes when they were there, he had Cher.
A night at J&J’s with his woman who worked there.
No other place he’d rather be.
Chapter Fourteen
Fucking Happy
Cher
Mom wants to know if there’s something you don’t eat.
It was Sunday, late morning, and Merry had a day planned at his sister’s house to commune with family and play with his niece.
I had a day planned watching football with my kid before having to go to work, both of us eating ourselves sick, our every-Sunday plans when football was on.
I was at the stove frying sausage.
It was almost done when I got a text back.
Onions.
Gotcha.
And tofu.
I grinned.
Knew that without you telling me. Red-blooded. No way you eat sissy excuse for meat, I told him.
Damn straight, he replied.
I looked back to my sausage.
I ate tofu.
But, then again, I ate anything.
I drained the sausage, mixed it with the other shit, and poured it into the wonton wrappers to put in the oven to bake.
Then I texted my mom so she’d know not to serve onions or tofu for dinner on Thursday.
* * * * *
Ravens lost. You owe me 20.
That came from Merry later that afternoon and I read it with a grin.
As I was reading it, another came in.
Bears are gonna lose. Another 20. I’ll take it in trade.
I felt my grin turn naughty.
Bears aren’t gonna go down, I told him.
They are, then you are, he told me.
That gave me a shiver.
I nearly bobbled my phone when Ethan asked, “You textin’ Merry?”
I looked to him lounged in the bucket seat. “Yeah.”
“Tell him Browns lost. He owes me ten bucks.”
I stared at my son.
Then I looked to my phone and texted Merry.
Ethan says Browns lost. You owe him ten bucks.
I sent that, then immediately typed more.
You betting with my kid?
Within seconds, I got back, Babe, he’s the commissioner of the fifth grade fantasy league.
That was when I stared at my phone.
I had no idea my son ran a fantasy football league.
How could that even be?
I didn’t look at my kid.
>
I kept my eyes to my phone while I made a big decision.
Ethan and I had our things, just Ethan and me. Mom and Ethan had their things, just Mom and Ethan.
And Ethan had shared something with Merry that he hadn’t shared with me.
I had no idea if running a fantasy football league at age ten (almost eleven) was good or bad. I just knew, unlike any other man I’d let into my life, Merry had a moral compass. If he thought it was bad, he’d say something and not the way he’d just said it.
So the big decision I made was that I was going to let my son and my man have their things, just Ethan and Merry.
Well good, I texted and sent. Then, I’d hoped he’d be an engineer, but Vegas bookie is just as sweet.
To that I got, Stop making me laugh when I can’t kiss you.
Which made me grin again.
“Yeesh,” my boy muttered, disgusted. “Merry’s not even here and you’re all gooey.”
That didn’t make my grin die.
Not even slightly.
Though it did make me throw one of my many awesome, mismatched Janis Joplin pillows at him.
Ethan caught it and threw it back.
* * * * *
On Monday morning, after I’d dropped Ethan at school and hit the bank to deposit my tips (and the stupid one hundred dollar check that Trent and Peggy sent me, putting that in Ethan’s new account), I heard the text sound from my purse in the seat next to me as I was driving home.
I decided driving home safely was priority one, considering my life no longer sucked and I wanted to live it fully, so I left my phone in my bag (something I always did, considering, even when my life sucked, my kid was awesome, so being safe was always priority one).
But once I was in my driveway, I dug it out and was throwing open my door, looping my purse over my arm, and reading it at the same time.
It was from Merry.
Ethan get to school okay?
Not having him for years and falling in love with him more and more every time I saw him or even thought of him, I never would have thought, if the impossible happened and I got him, there would be farther to fall.
I was dead wrong.
I was moving my thumb over the phone as I hopped out of my car, nowhere near done with my text, when I started to shift out of the door to close it and ran into something.
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