“Just so you know, I think I’m done with this bossiness of yours. I’d like to see a return to usual programming tomorrow.”
I watch her walk down the hall, not bothering to tell her my usual programming won’t return until I make her mine again.
She comes into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed in her pink silk pyjamas which are hell on a man with their tiny shorts and delicate camisole. I want to slide the fine straps of that cami the fuck off her shoulders.
I push a plate of toast over the kitchen counter to her when she sits on the stool across from me. I also slide a mug of Milo to her.
She looks at the drink and then back up at me. “Since when do I drink Milo?”
“Since now. It’s warm and chocolatey. I’m unsure why you don’t drink it already. Chocolate is one of your food groups.”
“So is coffee.”
“Try the Milo.”
She takes a bite of toast. “FYI, I don’t need a man in my life, and certainly not a bossy one.”
“You do need a man in your life, sweetheart. And you could do with some bossing.”
She fixes a look on me. One intended to cause harm. “What I could do with is you removing yourself from this kitchen so I can eat in peace.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you’re in bed.”
More of that harmful look. “I think maybe your recovery is going better than I thought. I think maybe you don’t really need me here anymore.”
I rest my elbows on the counter and bring my face closer to hers. “You wanna know what I think?” I wait for her response and when I don’t get one, I say, “I think you talk a good game about not wanting to be here, but there isn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.”
She continues glaring at me for a long few moments. Then, she eats her toast in silence and takes a sip of Milo. Only one sip, though, before moving off her stool and saying, “You were wrong about the Milo. I don’t like it.”
“That’s because you’re the most stubborn woman I know.”
“I just know what I like, Jack.”
“Yeah, you do, baby. And unfortunately for you, when you like something, you like it for life.”
With that, she practically stomps out of the kitchen.
I watch her until I can’t see her anymore, and even then, I keep watching.
This is how I want the rest of my life to be. Maybe not so much the going to separate rooms at the end of the night, although if that was the only way I could have Jessica in my life, I’d take it. But the familiar and well-worn parts of tonight, I want that.
I want to make her toast when she needs it.
I want to take all her whining when she needs that.
And I want to love her with all my heart like I do right now until the day I die.
21
Jessica
“Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?” Jack says early Monday morning on our run. I’m running a lot faster than usual and for once, he’s struggling to keep up.
“Trust me, if I was actually trying, I’d be succeeding.”
“I have no doubt.”
He shouldn’t have any doubt because if I ever do get that fishing spear, he won’t survive it. And let’s just say that after last night when he turned up the dial on his bossiness, my brain is latching onto the fishing spear more than ever.
It doesn’t help that today is the anniversary of my mother’s death. It’s been seven years since that miserable woman had a stroke she didn’t survive. I hate that I even bother to remember her each year on this day, but I do. And I don’t seem able to fucking forget her.
Not today, though.
Today, I’m not taking the day off work like I usually do. I’m going to spend the day taking care of anything Ashton has found for me over the weekend and then I’m going to tackle all the fiddly little jobs I keep putting off.
I’m going to feel like a fucking queen by the end of today rather than feeling like I usually do after thinking about my mother all day.
“What are your plans today?” I ask Jack. I only want to know this so I can prepare accordingly. If there’s anything I learned yesterday, it’s that he means business in a huge way, and I need to mean it back.
“I’ll be outside all day,” he says, not giving me any details of use, but then all I really need to know is that he won’t be inside. Then, he adds, “I’m going to get the ladder out and clean the gutters. I might get the mowing done too.”
“It’s about time you did something useful.”
He grins, but he doesn’t say anything further.
We run in silence for the rest of the hour and a half. I don’t stretch with him today. I don’t want to do anything with anyone today. I just want to be alone while I try to push these damn thoughts of my mother from my mind.
I stretch in the bathroom before showering. This bathroom helps take my mind off Mum. It takes my mind off everything every day I have to shower in it. I can’t understand why Jack hasn’t renovated it already. I spend my time in here planning how I’d renovate it. The fact that he still hasn’t given me a list of items to order for the renovation frustrates me. At the rate I’m going today, I may just take matters into my own hands.
I dry off after my shower and wrap the towel around me before brushing my teeth and applying moisturiser to my face. I then grab the hairdryer from the vanity cupboard and am closing the door when it falls off its hinge and lands on my toe with a thud.
It fucking hurts enough to draw tears.
It also fucking hurts enough to make me cranky.
I yell obscenities at it as I rip the door completely off its hinge and dump it on the floor. I then stab the hairdryer plug into the power point and turn it on. It starts blowing, but only for a second before stopping. I realise, after trying to get it to work a few times, that it’s blown the fucking safety switch.
More obscenities explode out of me.
I place the hairdryer down on the vanity with some force and turn to stalk out of the bathroom to sort this out. I’ve taken only one fucking step when I manage to slip on some water that Jack’s unrenovated fucking shower sprayed onto the floor.
I land on my ass.
And right at that moment, a big, fat, hairy, fucking spider runs across the floor.
Right near my fucking leg.
I scream.
It’s not a tentative scream.
No, it’s a loud, blood-curdling scream that I’m sure Ashton can hear from London.
I scramble to my feet as I yell, “Jack! If you don’t get your ass in here right now, I swear I will kill you when I next see you!”
I’ve barely got my order out when he comes running through the bathroom door, his face painted with worry. “What’s wrong?”
I point at the spider that is now crawling up the wall. “That’s what’s wrong. You need to kill it this time. And when I say kill, I fucking mean slaughter.”
With that, I exit the bathroom and leave him to handle a murder he should have handled days ago.
My entire body is shaking. With both fear and anger. All the emotions I’m feeling over my mother have collided with everything else that’s happened in the bathroom, and I’m running on pure adrenaline.