Abby.

When I wake up, my mood is sour.

I want to storm into her house and tell her what she did last night was fucking inappropriate. What if my kids saw that? What if...

What if, nothing? Because watching her get fucked like that was like jabbing my heart with a super sharp dark magic knife; with each strike and each moan, I bled. How dare she?

“Can you call the sitter? I can't be late for work,” I say, putting shoes on my feet. Beth is in the kitchen, having a bowl of cereal with a coffee mug on the side. That Beth with weird combos.

“My head hurts.”

“Not important; just call the sitter, please.”

“Fine.” She groans, eying me with red globes.

“Thanks.” I kiss her on the cheek and leave. I grab a cab, and at least Milton is happy to see that I'm on time.

Today, he asked me not to do anything. He says I will be his assistant and just watch. So I sit beside him when he works, passing him combs, machines with different teeth for a different person, and scissors.

I text Kenya, but she doesn't reply immediately; she is probably busy. When she replies, she says yesterday was fun and we should do that again. I reply and ask her if she is free to hang out during lunch. She says she is tied up, but she will make time later in the week.

When I knock off, I text Beth.

Texting with Bethy:

[Where are my kids?]
Sent.

[Simone’s]
Received.

I bite into my lip.

[I asked you to call the sitter.]
Sent.

[Yeah, sorry, she was nearer and I was late for work. My head still aches.]
Received.

[Yes, but I paid the sitter. Pop an aspirin.]
Sent.

I can sense irritation bubbling in my chest like it had for the entire day.

[Okay, gotta go, the hot dude just walked in.]
Received.

[Are you hooking up with anyone that shows up, Bethany?]
Sent

[😒Eww.]
Received.

[Eww yourself.]
Sent.

I tuck my phone in my pocket and grab a Lyft home. I want to go back to work and ask Milton to take me to his house because I can't stay here anymore. But I stand in front of Simone's house, waiting for spiritual powers to will me to knock on the door.

Why am I nervous? Wasn't I pissed at her this morning?

I knock, once. When the door opens, Simone freezes in front of me. “What do you want?” Her tone is dramatic, I'm having trouble believing this is true.

I want to laugh so hard.

“You have my kids,” I say instead, wondering just how I'm managing to be calm and keep a straight face right now.

There's a brief pause when Simone realizes. “Right.” She steps aside. “Boys, your mother is here.”

I hear whining from the other side of the door as the twins come out hesitantly.

“Can we stay?”

I shake my head. They have no idea what I'm going through. “No, let's go.”

“Bye aunt,” they say in unison.

I look up.

“A thank you won't hurt,” Simone says when I start walking away.

I scoff. “You know what, I have so many things I need to say to you, Simone, and thank you is not on the bloody list.”

“Language,” Simone says as if she is a parent scolding her daughter. Then she glances at the kids then throws me a glare. Who is she to tell me how to talk around my kids?

Exasperated, I groan and walk away. It takes every ounce of energy in my blood to not turn around and just scream at her.

“How was your day?” Beth asks when she gets home.

I'm in my pajamas already tired of everything and anything. The kids are playing on the carpet, and I'm dotting something in my notepad. Kenya hasn't texted me back yet and I'm starting to miss her company.

“Horrendous, but at least I still have my job.”

“Yeah? Good for you.”

“Did you fuck that guy?”

“Language,” Beth says through gritted teeth, throwing me a hard glare.

Can anyone give me a break?

When Beth takes a shower, she orders pizza and while we wait, I leave the house. I don't think I will be able to close my eyes if I don't confront Simone. I need to get this out of my chest.

I look into her driveway before I decide to proceed. Her husband's not home yet.

“I'm starting to get tired of seeing your face, Beth's sister,” Simone says sassily, walking back to the kitchen after she opens the door for me. She leaves it open, so I guess that's a sign I should go in.

“Name's Abby.”

“Yeah whatever, what do you want?” She has a mug in her hand but I know her well enough to believe that's not coffee.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“Which part?” Simone turns to me, her brown eyes look heavy, but she doesn't let whatever she is feeling be seen in her expression. “The part where you brought my husband's side piece to my fucking house or?”

My eyebrows furrow, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” she gasps, rushing a hand to her chest, but I can tell it's all sarcasm. “Don't tell you didn't know.”

“Kenya?”

“She has a pretty name for such a bad person,” Simone says and takes another swig from her cup.

I'm silent for a minute. My brain is failing to contemplate. “I…I didn't know. I would never purposely do that to you.”

“No?” She cocks an eyebrow.

I shake my head. “Don't act so innocent, you let him fuck you in front of my window.”

She lets out a hysterical laughter. I don't know if she is enjoying this or if it's too painful that she has to mask it all.

“This is my house, and he is my husband; he can fuck me whenever he wants and wherever I want to do it.” Her words rush out unapologetically. This is almost like that moment she told me I could never have her lips again. This forsaken feeling is unearthly painful.

I hate that I gave her so much power over me. I hate that I gave her words the power to hurt me like this.

“Well, you can't do that,” I say, standing my ground even though my voice is not holding up.

“I don't see why not.” She walks around the island to stand on the same side as me.

“Simone, I swear if you—”

“What are you going to do, Abby?” She saunters closer, challenging me to stare down.

I hate that I missed her familiar scent when she gets closer. Too close in fact, our chests are only inches apart. If she raises hers further, she will be brushing her breast on mine.

I swallow, holding her gaze. “Simone.”

“What are you going to fucking do about it?” Her voice is softer and less vulgar and hurtful.

She moves closer. She leans in. It's all her this time and I know it's the stuff in her cup. Or not?

Simone said we shouldn't do this again, so why is she going against her own words?

“I have kids, Simone,” I say, taking a step back. That was hard to do.

As much as I would have loved to stay in the heated place I was in, I can't handle it. Not when she made it clear I can never have her.

I'm not a toy. I won't let her push me around like she wants and ditch me.

“Right.” She breathes, taking a sip. “I will fuck carefully?”

And we are back to the sarcasm.

I shake my head. “Good luck.” I start for the door.

“Stop stomping in my house.”

I chuckle under my breath. “Petty ass.”

“No, you're petty!” She shouts after me. “My ass is big!”

I smile and walk out.

Of course it is.

++++
Sorry, I think we will have some typing errors in this one or something, I'm sleepyyyy but I wanted to drop one fory dearest gentle readers.
I love you, and I hope you're enjoying Abby and Simone's banter because I am!

Nommy 🔥