Jake (Downton Cowboys #2) - Miley Maine Page 0,63

ceiling.

“I need to find Lola,” I confess.

“What? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Everything.” Puffing, I desperately flail my arms in the air.

“What does she have on you?”

“It’s what she doesn’t have that gives this shit show a whole other dimension.”

“Are you fucking sun struck?” He raises his voice an octave, frustrated. “Quit talkin’ in code!”

“We are still… fucking… married.” I lean forward, furiously enunciating, “She doesn’t have a signature that says we are.”

His jaw drops in horror.

“Holy shit,” he scoffs, his eyes wandering away from me while he shakes his head in disbelief.

Appalled, he sits back, palms rubbing his thighs in a move I am awfully familiar with. It has always been his signature move when he is barely restraining himself from punching a man in the face.

“Yeah,” I whisper, scratching the back of my head, “didn’t see that one comin’, did yah?”

After a quiet moment felt like an hour, he finally speaks.

“How could you be so fucking dumb?” he taunts, visibly still reeling from the surprise. “That’s it…” He abruptly stands up, throwing his arms in the air and turning away.

I watch as he marches toward the kitchen and pulls the fridge door open so violently the whole thing shakes for a second. He pulls out two bottles of beer and blows the door shut, quaking it once again.

Without a word, he tosses me a bottle and I swiftly catch it.

He then undoes his tie, frustrated and impatient, throwing it in the same direction where his jacket lies in a lump.

“Look alive, moron.” He snaps his fingers in the air, scolding me once again.

“What? What do you want me to say?”

“How. Did. That. Happen?” He draws it out, pushing his head forward and piercing through me with his long-lashed eyes and bright irises.

“I—I don’t know.” I wipe the droplets of condensation with the tip of my finger along the length of the bottle, watching the glass clear up, shiny.

“Care to venture a conceivable explanation?” Exasperation is evident in his tone. “I thought you took care of this!”

“How?” I burst loudly. “I don’t know where the fuck Lola is. And I didn’t exactly look forward to spending months with lawyers and in courtrooms. I had enough on my plate, Frankie. Her leaving wasn’t the only thing that exploded in my face. She took Gus with ‘er, remember? I wasn’t exactly in the right mind.”

“And when you became in the right mind?”

“Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” I raise my eyebrows, well aware of how incredibly defensive I must sound. “Did I ever think that I was going to meet a woman like Belle? That I was ever going to find love again?”

“Again? Your relationship with Lola was toxic to say the least!”

“You get the point.” I wave a hand around in defeat and gulp down half the bottle.

“No, actually, I don’t,” he insists. “If that was me? I’d send an army of lawyers to hell and back to get me those fucking divorce papers signed and sealed.” He pauses, exhaling sharply. “I’d wanna get myself out of that hole once and for all!”

“I get it, okay?” I shoot up, yelling and angrily gesturing with both arms. “I fucked up.”

A sudden knock on the door startles me, and Frankie simply gets up and walks over.

“Who’s that?” I grimace, not wanting to see anyone.

“Unclench, will yah?” he mocks. “I told Katie to get us food.”

I sit back down, sighing, suddenly aware of how weak my entire body feels.

What I wouldn’t give to be in Belle’s arms right now.

I would finally let my guard down. Let her see me cry. Let her hear my reality. Apologize a million times. Beg her to take me back.

Whatever it takes.

Frankie returns with a large brown paper bag and sets it down on the table. Taking out a couple of burgers, he shakes his head in dismay.

“You should eat,” he says in a low voice.

Even though he is the younger one, he has always wanted to look after me. A bitter smile makes its way to my lips, and once again, I restrain an overwhelming urge to weep.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll eat because I told you so.” His voice is commanding. “It’s the least you could do after hiding that shit storm from me all this time.”

Letting my shoulders droop, I reach over and grab a burger, my stomach turning at the mere smell of it. I force myself to take a bite, completely unable to taste anything.

We eat in silence, neither one of us addressing the