he’s texting Remi. “Sure. Let me put some shorts on.”
I reach for my bag on the floor. “Are you dating Remi now?”
“No way.” With a shrug, the robe falls to his feet. I advert my eyes. He’s buck-ass naked again. “We’re not dating. I give her a base hit every once in a while.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m assuming he’s talking about a one-night stand here and there. But this is Ez, could be anything like drowning boneless babies. “Isn’t she dating that banker dude?” I’ll admit, Remi, she’s fucking hot. I’d probably be trying for a base knock with her, too, if I could. Long legs, blonde, absolutely gorgeous. And not in a stuck-up way either. Can’t say she’s all that bright, but fuckable nonetheless.
“Oh, probably.” After yanking on shorts, he grabs a shirt from the couch I’ve been sleeping on for the last three weeks. “He ghosted her though. She’s freakin’ the fuck out.”
There’s a reason why Ez doesn’t date. We have something in common.
Women fuck us over.
Senior year of high school, just as he was thinking of signing with the Dodgers, his girlfriend got pregnant. So he turned down the offer, and then she left him for turning it down and had an abortion. He hasn’t heard from her since.
Now he has absolutely no interest in dating, wraps it up, and never calls a girl back. Aside from Remi. And only because she’s dating someone else, so he figures there’s no attachment, so it’s all good.
Maybe I need to find someone who’s looking for some on the side? That way, there’s no chance of attachment.
My mind immediately goes back to the chick with the cold brew. She’s married. From what she said. Too bad I didn’t get her number.
A pitch that curves or breaks from a straight or expected flight path toward home plate.
SYDNEY
Fairy tales. You know, that saying that you live happily ever after when you kiss the prince?
I think I kissed the devil because blah fucking blah, fairy tales do not exist.
Two weeks ago, I thought I had my life together. And then reality heard me and was like, wrong, bitch, hold my beer. My dad once told me that a pitcher’s curveball is his greatest asset as a pitcher. I’ve got a curveball for you.
A foreclosure notice.
They say I have options. At least the letter from the bank tells me that, and I googled it just to be sure.
With my hands in my hair that I haven’t washed in three days, I stare at the letter again.
Negotiate with the bank. Okay, well, Collin worked at the bank, and seeing how I can’t even use my debit card or credit cards, I’m not sure how much they’re going to negotiate with me.
Loan modification. That will result in higher payments, and seeing how our mortgage was already nearly three grand a month, without Collin’s income, I don’t know how I would afford that. I should have his life insurance coming in soon, and it’d pay for the house, but what am I going to do in the meantime?
File for bankruptcy? Uh, no, not doing that. I’d lose my business in the process. Then what would I have to make money?
Short sale? So that means I’d be selling the only home and security Tatum knows. I don’t want to do that either.
I can’t even form thoughts on what to do next other than what the fuck?
Tatum opening the container of blueberries next to me draws my attention to her.
“I like blueberries.”
I smile at Tatum as she picks blueberries from the tray. Yes, I washed them. No, they’re not organic. As I watch my daughter eating berries without a care in the world, I’m jealous of her innocence in all this.
Sighing, she frowns at me, the smallest hint of sadness in her eyes. “Daddy’s not coming back?”
“No, honey. He went to heaven.”
God wanted his lying ass back.
I would never tell Tatum anything derogatory about her dad. I want her image of her father to be exactly what it has been for the last three years of her life. The one of Saturday mornings at the park with him. Or the nights he’d come home late only to sleep on her bedroom floor to ensure no monsters get under her bed.
Though lately, they didn’t get to spend any time together, he was still her hero, and I’d never take that from her. Even if he’s a lying asshole.