Marital Bitch (Men with Badges) - By Jc Emery Page 0,65
up with nothing.
“I have no clue,” I say, “she’s bipolar.” Dan laughs.
“She’s not the only one,” Charlotte plops down on the picnic bench beside me and snorts at her own comment. She thinks she’s real funny, always has.
“Where’s my girl?” I nudge my older sister and cock an eyebrow at her. She points across the yard. My niece, Sarah, is pulling on Colleen’s t-shirt and gabbing away. Colleen is talking to her and making her laugh. I involuntarily smile at the sight. She may be a damn difficult human being but she is going to be an amazing mom. I’ve never doubted that.
“You never come by and visit anymore, little brother,” Charlotte pokes me in my arm. “I guess you’re busy being all married now, right?” I sigh.
“I guess,” I mumble. She opens her mouth to say something else but is distracted by my nephew, George, who is trying to climb over the back fence and get into a neighboring yard. He’s eight now. What are you going to do? Immediately, she rushes over to him and starts yanking him down. I love that boy.
“So, what’s really going on, son?” Dan gives me the side eye. “I’ve been a cop for a long time, kid. I know when something’s up.” I look away, doing my best to avoid his question.
“We’re trying to have a baby,” I mutter, trying to keep Dan from asking anymore questions. The way I figure it is if I’m talking about sex with his daughter, then maybe he’ll drop the subject. No dice.
“Look,” he leans in and rubs his mustache. “I know this whole marriage thing was supposed to be a joke and a bunch of shit went down, okay? I know you guys didn’t intend to stay married. But my wife doesn’t know; and all she can talk about is how happy she is now that you two are together. When I say happy, Bradley,” he trails off and gives me the most serious expression I’ve ever seen him give anybody—including a suspect. “I mean happy and when she’s happy, Bradley, I’m happy. Don’t make me unhappy, Bradley.” I laugh a little nervously at his statement.
“How in the hell do you know that?” I hiss. Dan smiles proudly. Darla walks over and hands him a beer. He grins up at her.
“Here’s your beer, pop,” she says and walks away. I catch the smile he gives her and I just know who the rat is. The rat is Darla. Dan catches my look and straightens up.
“So, have you told her yet?” Dan sighs happily as he opens his fresh beer.
“Told her what?” I ask, claiming ignorance.
“You mean to tell me that you married my daughter and now you’re trying to get her pregnant—“ he pauses, a disgusted look crosses his face as he realizes the conversation he’s stepped into, “and you haven’t even told her you’re in love with her?” I look away from him. He already knows the answer.
“What, you don’t want me to knock her up?” I try to divert the conversation. He just shakes his head and stands up as my dad walks over.
“Your son is an idiot,” Dan looks John square in the eye and shakes his head.
“Yours isn’t any better,” my dad laughs and points to James who is, on a dare from my own mother, chugging two beers at once.
“Louise probably shouldn’t of drank with that one,” Dan smirks and walks away. My dad laughs and sits down beside me.
“Is Colleen pregnant?” I’m surprised by his question. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. I stand up and shift my weight from foot to foot. Sensing my discomfort, he stands as well.
"She ain't knocked up," I say defiantly. My dad cocks his head to the side and looks over my shoulder. I turn around and see what's holding his attention. Colleen. She looks amazing, and there in her arms is Alex. I watch, captivated, as she rubs noses with him. "Well," dad says, "by the way she's looking at that kid, if she isn't pregnant now, she will be soon."
“Why would you even ask that?” I ask. I know I’m snapping at him, when really he’s done nothing wrong, but damn it. Why the hell is he asking?
“Calm down, son,” he raises his arms in the air, surrendering. “I just ask because she’s over there asking your mother how long it took her to get pregnant with you and the girls; seems like she wants a baby to me.”