“Why?”
“To know when you’re going to be all moody like you are now.”
The nerve …
“Since when did breaking up with my deadbeat boyfriend constitute being moody?”
“Sophie, see … it’s like you’re answering your own question. Do you hear the tightness in your voice? The way you’re trying to restrain yourself? Happens every month. Last month you ragged about me not putting dishes in the dishwasher and leaving my socks on the coffee table.”
“I’m not—” I pause to reel it in, keeping my emotions in check to avoid feeding his ridiculous point. I didn’t have a period last month. He can’t track anything. “Jimmy, I’ve felt this way for a while now. I just thought you’d get yourself together, and it wouldn’t have to end like this. You were this great guy taking care of his mom, and it inspired me to help you. Temporarily. But I’m done. It’s been long enough, and you’re not making any effort to change your situation in life. I don’t have the same feelings for you. It doesn’t have to be personal. We can just go our separate ways. Okay?”
“Sophie, my mom always made me wait thirty days before she’d buy me anything expensive. She said it takes thirty days to distinguish between impulse and true desire. You’re trying to break up with me on impulse. Wait thirty days, and I’ll consider your proposal.” He doesn’t give me a single glance. It’s irritatingly dismissive.
I’m … speechless. Really, where does he come up with this stuff? This isn’t a divorce. It’s a breakup. It’s non-negotiable.
“I’ll give you a week.”
He chuckles. “It’s thirty days, Sophie. Call my mom if you don’t believe me.”
“Fine. I’ll call your mom in the morning and tell her we’re breaking up and you’re a week away from being homeless. Maybe she’ll come up with a seven-day plan for you instead of a thirty-day plan. But … I’m out. Come, Cersei.” I march toward the bedroom.
“Have you completely forgotten my mom has MS?”
I bite my tongue. I know his mom has MS. And no money, like her son. I lock the door behind me. “Stupid,” I whisper, pressing the palm of my hand against my head.
I’m so stupid. This is the third time I’ve ended up with a freeloader for a boyfriend. I can’t save all the snakes. It ends now … or in a week.
CHAPTER TWO
SHEP
“Julia’s been licking herself. Should we be concerned?” Millie shoos me out the door along with George and Julia. “Sorry. I have a client coming in five minutes. I don’t want to have to explain this.”
“This?” I walk backward to my car as the dogs run circles around me.
She waves her hand in the air. “You. Our arrangement …”
“I’m your ex-husband. These are our dogs. What was that? Seven words and two seconds?”
She frowns. “Just make sure you talk to the vet.”
“I brought it up to Dr. Stanley at the last visit. She said Julia’s fine; she just enjoys licking herself there. It must feel good. You used to like it too.”
“Don’t be crude, Shep.”
“Factual. Not crude.”
Truth? I’ve never hated anyone, but I might hate my ex-wife. To hide my growing detest, I humor her. Or maybe I humor myself to stay on the right side of sanity.
“Listen…” she checks her watch “…how would you feel about us getting on the same dating app?”
“I wasn’t into role-playing when we were married. What makes you think I’d want to do it now that we’re divorced?”
“Shep … just …” She sighs. “I hate when you don’t take anything seriously.”
I open the backdoor and let the dogs jump in. “Oh, I’m serious, Millie. No role-playing.”
“I don’t want to date you. I want to check out my competition in the area. And let’s be honest, you could use a date. If you reject all dating apps, you’ll never find anyone. And don’t forget, that’s how you found me.”
“I feel like you’re on to something with that statement. An aha moment?”
Once upon a time, I thought Millie was the one for me. No doubt whatsoever. We clicked. Then she did something that felt pretty unforgivable, yet I forgave her. Then she had a fucking epiphany. No-fault divorce, my ass. It was her. All her.
“You divorced me.” I scrounge a toothy grin, my grin of choice for her because I can keep my teeth gritted. “If you want me back, just ask. The answer is hell no, but just ask. I don’t need to be on a dating app to give you a hard swipe left regardless of the competition.”
“Not competition for you. I want to know what women in this area are my competition for other guys.”
“I’m not on any dating apps.” I shrug and shut the back door.
“But you could be.”
“I’m not setting up a profile on a dating app, again, as a favor to you.”