Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
“Jimmy …” I ease my head side to side. “You … you need help. Serious help. You are delusional. Something is truly wrong with you. I gave you a five-day notice to vacate. You have one day left. Then I’m filing eviction papers. This ends with you being escorted from the premises by a sheriff. Is that what you want?”
“I’m paying for the driveway, Sophie. That’s a big investment. It’s equity in this house.”
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh. My. God!
He’s digging his heels in. He’s doubling down. He’s going to drag this out. Court. Attorneys. I don’t have time for this. I’m pregnant!
“I’m …” I open my mouth to say just that but clamp it shut just as quickly. No. Jimmy Fucking Pain In My Ass doesn’t get to hear about this baby before my parents. Before Mason’s parents.
“Hey, Cersei.” Jimmy bends down and rubs Cersei’s chest. She likes him. I hate that. But he feeds her junk food and rubs her belly all damn day because he has no life. He’s a parasite in my life. Is he going to attempt to take her too? Will we be like Shep and Millie? Sharing custody of a dog?
How can that happen if he NEVER MOVES OUT?
I’m fuming to the point I can’t even speak. I need to go to my room and calm down for the baby.
Jimmy: One.
Sophie: Zero.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“How was your weekend?” Nora asks, stopping at the door to my office. She was out on Monday.
“Good. Yours?” I scroll through today’s schedule on my computer.
“Fine. Did you uh … hear back from your doctor? Is everything okay?”
I glance up, eyes narrowed.
“The bleeding,” she says in a hushed voice.
“Oh. That. Yeah. Fibroid. No big deal. Thanks for your concern, though.”
“That’s good. Your first patient is here.”
“Thanks.” I close my eyes and exhale when she leaves my office. My life is an epic disaster at the moment. Ten balls in the air and I don’t know how to juggle.
Midmorning, Nora catches me just before I go into the exam room. “Flowers at the front desk for you. They’re stunning.” She waggles her eyebrows.
I frown. Fucking Jimmy. I’m sure I paid for them. I didn’t check my purse before leaving for work. Ten bucks says I’m missing a credit card. After the exam, I return to my office where Nora has set the bouquet on my desk. Snatching the card, I pull it from the envelope. What could he possibly say to justify this?
Hey, Sophie!
Hope you’re having a great start to your week. So glad we’re friends.
Jules xo
For some irrational reason, I get tears in my eyes. Jules has sent me flowers before, but only for special occasions like a birthday. Now I feel extra guilty for thinking that Shep could ever be my best friend no matter how well-honed his orgasm-giving skills happen to be. Maybe she feels bad about what happened on the phone. Maybe she feels that she did unfairly judge me and not trust me when I said that Shep is just a friend. And the fact that I had sex with him is making me feel a billion times more guilty in the presence of the wildflower bouquet dotted with the purple-pinkish echinacea. It’s symbolic of strength and healing. It’s definitely an apology.
Grinning, I call Jules and bend over to smell the flowers.
“Hey. Calling to spill all the details from your ‘friendly’ golf weekend?” she asks as soon as she answers my call.
“Funny. No. Wait … is that what this is? Is this a bribe? Here I thought you were being crazy generous. Overly generous. Apologetic. A truce of sorts after our short conversation on the phone. But now I’m a little suspicious of your motive.”
“What are you talking about? Bribe? My motive?”
“The flowers. I got them. They’re beautiful. And way too much. Now I feel like a terrible friend. I should have been the one sending you flowers for lying to you or … misleading you.”
“Is this pregnancy brain already? It’s a little early for pregnancy brain.”
“What do you mean?” I chuckle.
“Sophie, I didn’t send you flowers.”
“Um … yeah you did. Your name is on the card.”
“Maybe Jimmy sent them.”
“No. It says Hope you’re having a great start to your week. So glad we’re fri—”
Friends.
“Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Let me know when you figure out who sent you flowers and gave me credit for them. Tell them thank you. And we need to talk—”
“Sure.” I press End. I won’t be thanking anyone. I call Shep, feeling all sorts of anger.
“Miss me already?”
“You cannot send me flowers.”
“Flowers?”
“Don’t. I know it was you. And they are too much. Friends don’t send each other flowers for no reason. It’s not my birthday. I didn’t receive a job promotion. And nobody in my family died. And we don’t exist.”