Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“I’m not saying I need you to get on it.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled in a big breath, tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling.
I tried something new.
“Are you mad about the mascara?”
“Jesus, fuck, someone kill me,” he said to the ceiling.
“Core,” I called.
He looked at me. “Please do not tell me we’re gonna talk about your goddamn mascara again.”
Right, that didn’t work.
“I’m getting a weird vibe from you.”
“And I’m telling you, you’re feeling what you’re feeling, and that isn’t coming from me.”
He was so wrong, and I was not a fan of being gaslit.
“It is coming from you,” I asserted.
“Okay, good, great, it’s coming from me,” he gave in. “Sorry, babe. We done with this now?”
Oh no.
Not okay.
“Don’t be a dick,” I groused.
“How am I being a dick when you’re up in my shit about something I do not get?”
I tried his tack. “Right, fine, everything’s cool. I’m getting up an hour and a half earlier so I can get work done and be home to have time with you. I’m busting my ass at the office and squeezing work in so you know you’re a priority to me. You’re neat, I’ve let some things slide, mostly because I’m busy, it’s the holiday season so it’s even busier, so I don’t put my mascara away—”
“I didn’t ask you to get up early so you can get home earlier.”
“You were in a mood because I made us late to Beck and Janna’s.”
His brows shot up and his vibe plummeted into the hellfire zone.
As such, his tone was sizzling when he asked, “Are you fucking shitting me?”
“No. You were,” I stressed.
His voice was rumbly, and not the good kind, when he stated, “I do not need one of those bitches in my life who sits on shit for days, weeks, fuckin’ months, then throws it in my face.”
My voice was rising. “I’m not throwing anything in your face! And don’t call me a bitch!”
“Then don’t sit on shit you need to talk out and lay it on me after you’ve let it gnaw at you so I gotta deal with the fallout. I do not care if you’re late. You got a job you dig, you were clear that comes with the territory, so I’ll repeat and hope it sinks in. I…do…not…care…if you’re late.”
“Okay, so obviously everything’s awesome between us,” I said sarcastically.
“Everything is totally awesome between us,” he agreed snidely.
“And I’m perfect, you’re living with me, you’re fucking me, you love me, and I can do no wrong, even if I work late and you trip on my mascara.”
“And now you’re back to Kiki,” he griped, getting it right because I harked back to his words when we were discussing her.
“I don’t need to worry about Kiki,” I retorted. “I’m perfect. Right? You’re perfect. We’re perfect. You don’t mind if I work all the time. Oh no, it wouldn’t be you that’s sitting on your mood so it can gnaw at you, and later, I have to deal with the fallout,” I drawled sarcastically.
“I’m not sitting on a mood,” he growled.
“I know, baby, didn’t I just say that?” I replied fake sweetly.
“Jesus Christ!” he exploded. “It’s your goddamn shoes.”
I stood unmoving, staring at him.
“And it’s not a big fucking deal,” he shared.
“Then why did you just shout at me?”
“Because you’re right, I’m a dick.”
But looking at the expression now on his face, unease mixed with guilt, it hit me like a shot.
I need to take care of you.
He had to navigate my shoes, my clothes, my runaway makeup.
I need to take care of you.
He piled my mail, vacuumed, chilled out and watched TV I wasn’t interested in so I could work.
Always treated me with almost excruciating care.
Oh my God.
This was excruciating care.
Core came to me, took my hands in both of his and dropped his forehead to mine.
“We’re good, baby, all right?” he placated me. “I’m good. It’s all good. It sucks today went off the rails, but we’ll chill and go back out tomorrow.”
“I’ll put my shoes away,” I said to him.
He squeezed my hands and lifted his head. “Promise. It’s okay.”
“You’re allowed to find me annoying, Core. I’m actually not perfect.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Damned close to it.”
Oh God, I loved this man.
But this was not okay. This was not the way forward.
This was the way to head right to an eventual end.
And it was something deeper for Core that I had to help him let go.
I squeezed his hands and didn’t stop squeezing. “I need to know if I do something that bothers you.”
“You don’t,” he said swiftly.
I pulled our hands between us and pressed them to his chest.
“Stop this,” I whispered.
“Stop what?” he asked.
I looked around then back at him. “Are you neat?”
“What?”
“Do you run the cordless every day?”
“Nanook sheds.”
I tried to remember before I moved in officially, and yes, there was shedding. It wasn’t out of control, but it wasn’t neat as a pin every day.