"Probably."
Ricky chooses that exact moment to saunter out of his room and assess the haphazard mess I've made of the kitchen. "'Sup, B. You doin' anything for Valentine's Day?"
"Not the time, Ricky," Janine hisses between her teeth.
"Why not? She's got that guy—the one with the beard. What's his deal? I haven't seen him around for a few days."
"Fuckin' hell—" I grit out, but Janine goes full bear mode. I swear I can see her acrylic nails sharpen before my eyes.
"If you'd step out of your crypto cave for asingle fucking moment, you'd know what the deal is,Richard. Or do you only emerge when you can steal cookies from Brooke? Or when you think you might have another shot with me? Ship has sailed, baby boy. Fuck off back to stock putsland." She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, but I'm stunned speechless.
Richard? Another shot with her? Baby boy?Richard?
"Whoa, hey now. I was just making polite conversation. The fuck's your problem?" He yanks a cookie from the top of my very precarious stack, and I swear to god, I watch the whole thing topple in slow motion.
Chocolate chip cookies cascade from the counter to the tiled floor. Some shatter on impact, but more of them leave long smears of melted chocolate as they slip and slide. All of them are ruined.
Fuck me sideways.
Huey pokes his head into my room and beelines for his food bowl. Janine sent me to my room so she could clean up the mess Ricky caused—or maybe force him to clean up after himself, which would be a first. I'm still not sure what the hell happened between them, but I figure she'll tell me when she's ready.
Or she'll tell me when I pester her about it enough.
I watch my orange single-brain-celled cat crunch away on his kibble. He's been more skittery since Dustin left. I mean, it could also be due to the fact that I keep trying touse the softest fur available (his little tummy) as a pillow. But that comes with the territory when your assigned human is a Millennial who just got forcibly dumped via corporate policy.
Does it even count as getting dumped? I don't know. But fuck, I also don't know if Dustin is going through the same anguished emotions I'm feeling. And I can't know. And that hurts like hell.
I just want to hear his voice. I want his overly logical explanation of why this is fine, actually, and everything is going to work out perfectly. I can almost imagine what he'd say, something about how it doesn't make business sense to keep us apart. Our productivity is what Atmosphere and DropTop will measure against our relationship for success and KPIs.
An unhinged giggle forces its way out. That'ssohim. And here I am, laying on my unmade bed, soaking my pillow with tears (again) and laughing at my own jokes. I'm so fucking pathetic.
Loud voices echo down the hall, and I shove my head under a pillow. I don't know what Janine and Ricky are arguing about now. The voices grow louder, and it doesn't sound like just Janine and Ricky. It almost sounds like….
"Brooke?" My door swings open, and I pop my head out from under the pillow.
Oh, fuckme. "What do you want, Calvin."
My shithead ex-husband looks around my room with disgust before his eyes land on Huey. The most beautiful little kitty in the world arches his back and fluffs out his tail, hissing at Calvin.
"Holy hell—keep that thing away from me!" Calvin shuffles backward and closes the door behind him. "Brooke, will you please come out here so we can have a rational discussion like adults?"
"Good boy," I praise Huey.
Hoisting myself out of bed, I grimace at my reflection in the compact mirror Janine left out. Somehow, it's angled perfectly so I can see my rat's nest hair piled in the world's greasiest bun on top of my head. I have dark circles under my eyes. To top it all off, I have a ridiculous amount of flour and various baking goops caked all over my shirt and extremities.
Awesome. Just the kind of look I was hoping for when I have to face my ex-husband.
I slam open my door and lean into the frame. "What the hell do you want, Calvin?"
"You've ignored me for weeks—you blocked me! Why do you want to keep the baseball cards so bad?" He sneers at me, and I wonder how the hell I ever thought I loved him.
"I don't have your stupid fucking cards! I don't give a shit about you, Calvin. Ileft. We'redivorced. You're gonna have a kid with whatever her name is.Why doyouthink I have your shit? Why can't you just leave me alone?!" My voice raises with every word until I'm bellowing, and he finally looks at me with the discomfort he made me feel.
Good. Be scared of me. Get the hell out of my life, and don't let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya.
"You—Brooke. You know how much those cards mean to me. Myfathergave them to me, and I want to give them tomyson. I know you took them. You had to get one last dig in at me. You had to have the last word. You always did," he snarls and steps closer. "You're such a bitch. You've always been manipulative and power-hungry."
"Oh, shut the fuck up," Janine snaps. Ricky stands to his full height behind her and fixes Calvin with a disgusted glare.
