or not. Didn’t want to talk to her.
I was so tired.
I walked into my house, set my things aside on the table, and went for a beer. I had work to do, thousands of emails and phone calls to deal with, but I just needed a moment. After, I would deal with all of it because that’s what I did. I dealt with things. Meaning I needed to push aside things that were in the way and deal with what was necessary.
My doorbell rang, and I frowned, hoping to hell it was someone selling me something, because I didn’t want to face anything or anyone else at the moment. I looked through the peephole, set my beer down, and held back a growl. When I opened the door, my ex-wife stood there, a small smile on her face, and flowers in her hands.
“Hi. One of Bob’s friends said they saw you at the hospital while they were there getting stitches. I was worried about you.”
That seemed like a very far-fetched story, but Susan knew many people and seemed to get information out of anyone. That’s what made her good at her job.
“What is it you want?” I asked, my voice icy.
Her eyes widened. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I got these for your mother. I’m just so sorry that everything seems to be going downhill.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?” What exactly had she meant by that?
“Well, that’s why you were at the hospital, isn’t it?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. Was it you? Are you sick? Here, go inside. Sit down. Let me tend to you.”
I blocked her from pushing inside. “What is this? What the hell are you doing here, Susan?”
“I miss you, Jacob. I’m just so sorry that everything happened the way it did, but I’m here now. I’m here to help. This must be so much for you, but I’m here.”
I just looked at her, and then I laughed. Nothing was funny about this, but I couldn’t help it, I laughed harder. “No, you don’t get to do this. Just be with Bob, be happy. But this right now?” I said, gesturing between us. “It’s never happening. I’m doing fine,” I lied. “You need to go. You need to lose this address, ignore whatever reporter instincts you think you have. I’m done. Go now, Susan. Be well.” She looked at me, her eyes comically wide, and then I slammed the door in her face.
Jesus Christ, I was done. Done with it all. I didn’t want to deal with my ex-wife now or ever.
I chugged the rest of my beer, recycled the bottle, and thought about getting another one, then remembered the piles of work I had waiting.
When my doorbell rang again, the tension in my shoulders knotted, and I ground my teeth. I didn’t bother looking through the peephole again, just yanked open the door and shouted, “What the fuck do you want?”
Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she took a staggering step back, nearly dropping the brownies in her hands.
I cursed and reached for her and the brownies at the same time to keep her from falling. “Shit, Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, Annabelle. I thought you were someone else.”
“Clearly. At least I hope so. I’m sorry. I was stress baking over work and everything, and I made a double batch of brownies. These are for you.” She handed over the square tray and grimaced. “I’m not the best baker, but they’re pretty chocolatey, and there’s a ribbon of caramel in them, too. They’re for you. I was trying a new recipe and thought you could use something.”
She nearly turned, and I cursed again. “No, come in. Yeah, I think we need to talk.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and she blinked at me before she gave me a small nod and walked inside. That probably wasn’t the best way to start whatever it was I needed to say but yelling at her on my porch was likely worse.
“I would ask if you’re having a good day, but I guess you already answered that for me,” Annabelle said, rolling her shoulders back.
“Yeah, it’s been a shitty day. My ex-wife just showed up right before you got here, and I thought you were her again. She won’t leave me the fuck alone, and I have no idea what she wants. But I’m done with today.”
“I can see that.”
“I’m done with a lot of things, Annabelle.”
She didn’t do anything, didn’t react at all, just stared at me.
I was already