“You think you can worry about dinner in a minute and maybe look at me?” he asked back, she stopped dead and her head tilted to look at him.
He looked in her blue-gray eyes and there it was. Or, more to the point, there it wasn’t.
The light was out.
He sucked in breath.
Then he gave it to her. “I was an ass**le last night. I got a lotta shit on my mind but that wasn’t cool.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied instantly.
He felt his throat start to burn.
“You were right last night,” he told her. “We need to talk.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s good. It’s all good, Ty. I have a plan. I’ve got everything sorted out with Ella. Margot fixed things for me at work. Ella’s already sent some of my stuff, it’ll be here soon, maybe even tomorrow. I’m going to get a job, don’t know what, something. I bought a paper today. I’ll have a look. Ella is going to have moving quotes tomorrow. I’ll let you know. It’s all happening. It’s all good. So you can get on with…” she paused, “whatever you need to get on with.”
Then she started to move by him but he caught her, wrapping his fingers around her bicep, she stopped and her head tipped back again.
“We got more shit to talk about,” he said quietly.
She shook her head again. “No we don’t.”
“You know we do.”
Suddenly she was nodding her head. “You’re right, we do. I need to ask if it’s okay if I use one of your rooms downstairs to store some stuff and if I can set up my bed in the other one. Oh… and if I can switch out my computer with yours. I bought mine three months ago. It’s a good one.”
That burn in his throat got hotter but he forced through it, “Do whatever you gotta do. I don’t care. Now, we –”
She twisted her arm out of his hand and quickly moved around him, jogging down the stairs, muttering, “I have to check the spaghetti.”
He took in a deep breath. Then he took in another one.
Then he hissed, “Fuck!” and followed her.
She was dumping spaghetti into a colander in sink. He got close to her back and started to say her name again when suddenly the pot hit the countertop with a clatter, she whirled and took two steps back, lifting a finger and pointing it at him.
“Don’t!” she snapped. “Don’t you f**king come home and think you can give me a different Ty. Do not think you can f**king play me like that. I don’t know what the f**k you’re dealing with and I don’t care. I asked, you wouldn’t tell me. I tried everything I knew to get you to let me in there,” she jabbed her finger at his chest, “and you didn’t let me in and now, Ty, I don’t f**king care. You can ride the wave of whatever’s controlling you but don’t drag me along on that trip.” She swung her arm out to the side. “Out there, I’ll be what you’re paying me to be.” Then she pointed to the floor. “In here, it would be good if we could be civil to each other and you don’t give me any of that pu**y bullshit of yours. And that’s all for in here, Ty. Tonight, I sleep on the couch and I keep doing it until my bed gets here and then I’ll move to it. You wanted to talk, there it is. I’m laying it out. You don’t like that, you get your bling back and I walk. Think about it and enjoy the spaghetti, I’m going for a drive.”
Then she turned, snatched her keys off the island and ran to and down the stairs.
Walker stared at the space where he last saw her and he did it for a long time waiting for the burn to fade from his throat.
This took awhile.
Then he turned off the burner under the stove, the oven where the garlic bread was baking, walked upstairs and took a shower.
* * * * *
When Lexie got home at ten to eleven, Walker was flat out on the couch, eyes to the TV.
He didn’t move when he heard her hit the room.
But he did speak.
“I’m takin’ the couch, you take the bed.”
No sound, no movement.