Fuck.
Is.
That?
I narrow my eyes and ball my fists. “Is that a fucking wedding ring?”
Emerson’s powder blue eyes drop to the floor. “Um, yeah. About that….”
I glare at Tee, my jaw clenched and do the best I can to contain my temper. “Are you knocked up?” I blurt because somehow, to me, that seems like the only plausible reason for her random act of stupidity.
Yet there’s a large part of me that think that this whole thing is some kind of random hoax.
Where’s Ashton?
I mean Justin Bieber.
Am I being punk’d?
Her cheeks redden and she scowls. “No!” she snaps. “I’m not!” She adds an eye roll before folding her arms across her chest. “I was trying to tell you. I tried to call you and tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I scoff. I point at pretty boy. “That you’re married to this asshole?”
Tee digs her foot into my hardwood floor and slams her fists at her sides. “He’s not an asshole! I love him!”
That says it all.
My kid sister is a twenty one year old moron . I pinch the bridge of my nose. Take deeps breaths. Be calm. Be calm. Yeah, there is no being calm about this. I turn tow
ard Emerson, eyes still closed and growl, “Listen asshole, I’m gonna give you to the count of ten to get the fuck out of my house or I’m going to pull my gun back out and start shooting.”
I count silently.
One.
There’s no movement.
Two.
Still no movement.
Three.
Now Asshole and Tee are whispering.
Four.
A few footsteps.
Five.
Tee starts whimpering.
Six.
More footsteps.
Seven.