“You try girls now? After I’m off the market? Just my luck,” I joke. “So a jock, huh? Who is he and what’s he play?”
“Don’t judge. You just married a mobster. It’s Jasper Reid.” Georgia scrunches up her nose, like she’s got a bad taste in her mouth.
“The quarterback?” I laugh. “Yeah, okay, he’s relationship material for sure.”
“I’m just here for a good time, not a long time,” Georgia says. “And trust me, it’s arealgood time.” Her brows move up and down on her forehead.
“We’re making a stop at the clinic today. You need to be tested for every STD under the sun. Do you have any idea where hisgood-timeequipment has even been?”
“Do you have any idea where Carlo’s been?” Georgia fires back.
I flinch. She has a point. But also, I haven’t let Carlo’sequipmentnear me. Not that he’s tried to do anything with it. Other than his fingers that one time, he hasn’t so much as touched me. I’m starting to wonder if I repulse him, or if he’s just getting his needs met elsewhere. I should find out. If I know the truth, it’s better. Because I’ll know where I stand.
I want that, though. For him tonotwant me. Maybe it’s time I bring up theseparate houseidea. I pull out my phone and text him.
Me:
How do you feel about separate apartments? I’m going to look for one to live in.
I see the three dots that indicate he’s typing a response.
Carlo Bianchi:
Absolutely fucking not.
Well, guess I’ll have to work on that. I tap on his contact and change his name. Smiling at my own cleverness. I don’t knowwhy I didn’t do this years ago. I smile even wider when another text from him appears on my phone.
ASSHOLE:
Don’t try to ditch your security again either. We’ll discuss this tonight.
We’ll discuss this tonight? Seriously?Because I can’t seem to help myself. I text him back.
Me:
I look forward to discussing separate houses with you tonight.
Chapter Eleven
Ilook down at my phone. Did she really just ask for a separate fucking house? My wife of only a week already wants to move out. I haven’t even touched her, barely spoken to her. I’ve given her space, figuring she’d need it to settle in. And she wants to fucking move out?
“Problem?” Louie asks.
I glance over at him. We’re in his office. I just set Jazzy up on his sofa with some coloring books and an iPad, hoping it’ll keep her entertained long enough to get through this meeting. It’s been an adjustment, having a kid around all the time, but I also hate leaving her with anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary.
There are obviously parts of my world I’ll never let her see. She has enough nightmares. Learning that her father is a monster? Well, I don’t want that for her. She looks to me to keep her safe. The last thing I need is for her to be afraid of me.
“Yeah,” I grunt, plopping into the empty chair opposite Louie’s desk. Sammie spread out on the one next to me. I turn back to my daughter. “Jazz, headphones on.” I bought her noise-canceling headphones so she doesn’t hear everything we discuss in these meetings.
“Okay,” she says.
I wait for her to get settled and turn back to Louie. “I think we’re going to stop making pancakes for breakfast and start having cereal every morning.”
Louie peers over at Jazzy. The kid is addicted to pancakes. I never thought I’d be sick of eating them. Until now. “We’re good,” he says when Jazzy doesn’t react.
“My wife wants a separate house.” I sigh.
“What?” Sammie laughs. “How long you been married? A week?”
