baby's healthy, growing well and everything,” I said.
“Did you find out the sex? Dad didn't mention it over the phone.” He crossed his arms.
“He didn't?” I shook my head. “I figured Joe would've told you by now."
"Nope. He never mentioned one word about it."
"We're having a little girl.” I grinned in that fleeting second, pushing aside irritation at Joe. Among other things.
“Oh, that's awesome.” Austin tipped his head and his lips curved in a smile. “Have you thought of any names?”
“A few. Emily's one of them."
His grin widened. Emily was his grandmother's name; he'd spent half his childhood with her. Supposedly he even called her 'Mom'. Austin's real mother left when he was a toddler because she wasn't ready to juggle motherhood's demands. Or anything else.
Sadly, Austin's grandmother passed away last year.
"Austin," Joe bellowed. "I told you there's a game on. Can't miss this one!"
"Sure. Be right there, Dad." Austin offered a final lingering look, eyes darkening like storm clouds.
He disappeared in the next room.
I hugged myself, peered out the window and remembered the day Austin left for Paden University. The same day he left me alone forever with his father, and all the light disappeared from my life. Just when I thought I'd adjusted, seeing Austin's face again proved otherwise.
My husband Joe?
I despised him.
2. Asshat
T he first week rushed by.
Austin and I politely avoided each other. In the meantime my asshole husband avoided me as much as he could.
Standing next to the kitchen sink, I took a break from washing dishes. Amused, I watched a tummy that tickled and quaked whenever Emily fluttered, stuck out a foot or pummeled my long-suffering ribs.
When I did chores I sometimes listened to music, and this minute Britney Spears's Baby One More Time blasted. Still one of my favorites, I'd owned the same CD since its release eons ago.
Joe strolled in, unshaven, brown hair messy as if he'd just woken. He'd actually been up since five that morning and now it's noon.
He fixed a bloodshot glare at me, folded his arms. Joe's receding hairline seemed to have receded an additional inch, and since October he'd added five pounds to his stocky frame. His weight was pretty average though.
Hell, average summed up everything about him. Average looks. Average personality. Average asshat.
Yep. That was my Joe.
"Turn that shit down," he barked, referring to the CD player on the corner hutch. "You're too old to be listening to that shit anyway. In case you haven't noticed, you're not twenty years old anymore." Joe smirked.
I capped my burning rage. Didn't want to give him the satisfaction. And—I didn't budge to turn down the volume.
Austin lurked beyond the kitchen, looking troubled as he peered in. Joe obviously hadn't a clue that his son stood behind him; therefore he continued his silly tirade.
"Since you're not gonna turn it down, I'll do it for you." He went and jabbed the volume control on the device. Britney's resonating voice faded to an occasional squeak.
"There. That's better," he said.
I stayed composed.
Joe faced me, chuckling and gloating. "Bet you wish you were still twenty, eh? That why you listen to trash like that? To relive your lost youth or some bullshit?"
"Yes Joe," I calmly stated, though tears threatened beneath the surface. "That's why I listen to trash like this. Exactly why. I wish I could do it all over again. I'd do certain things differently."
That irked him. And when Austin emerged, Joe's glare followed him to the sound system.
Austin flicked up the volume and the end of Baby One More Time exploded.
A smile erupted on my face. I beamed it directly at Joe because now I was gloating. He grimaced, shot a glance at Austin.
Austin stopped the CD player and turned to his father. "So... let me get this straight. You're gonna dictate what kind of music Beth can listen to? Are you really gonna go there? Are you gonna try to control what songs she listens to
“Did you find out the sex? Dad didn't mention it over the phone.” He crossed his arms.
“He didn't?” I shook my head. “I figured Joe would've told you by now."
"Nope. He never mentioned one word about it."
"We're having a little girl.” I grinned in that fleeting second, pushing aside irritation at Joe. Among other things.
“Oh, that's awesome.” Austin tipped his head and his lips curved in a smile. “Have you thought of any names?”
“A few. Emily's one of them."
His grin widened. Emily was his grandmother's name; he'd spent half his childhood with her. Supposedly he even called her 'Mom'. Austin's real mother left when he was a toddler because she wasn't ready to juggle motherhood's demands. Or anything else.
Sadly, Austin's grandmother passed away last year.
"Austin," Joe bellowed. "I told you there's a game on. Can't miss this one!"
"Sure. Be right there, Dad." Austin offered a final lingering look, eyes darkening like storm clouds.
He disappeared in the next room.
I hugged myself, peered out the window and remembered the day Austin left for Paden University. The same day he left me alone forever with his father, and all the light disappeared from my life. Just when I thought I'd adjusted, seeing Austin's face again proved otherwise.
My husband Joe?
I despised him.
2. Asshat
T he first week rushed by.
Austin and I politely avoided each other. In the meantime my asshole husband avoided me as much as he could.
Standing next to the kitchen sink, I took a break from washing dishes. Amused, I watched a tummy that tickled and quaked whenever Emily fluttered, stuck out a foot or pummeled my long-suffering ribs.
When I did chores I sometimes listened to music, and this minute Britney Spears's Baby One More Time blasted. Still one of my favorites, I'd owned the same CD since its release eons ago.
Joe strolled in, unshaven, brown hair messy as if he'd just woken. He'd actually been up since five that morning and now it's noon.
He fixed a bloodshot glare at me, folded his arms. Joe's receding hairline seemed to have receded an additional inch, and since October he'd added five pounds to his stocky frame. His weight was pretty average though.
Hell, average summed up everything about him. Average looks. Average personality. Average asshat.
Yep. That was my Joe.
"Turn that shit down," he barked, referring to the CD player on the corner hutch. "You're too old to be listening to that shit anyway. In case you haven't noticed, you're not twenty years old anymore." Joe smirked.
I capped my burning rage. Didn't want to give him the satisfaction. And—I didn't budge to turn down the volume.
Austin lurked beyond the kitchen, looking troubled as he peered in. Joe obviously hadn't a clue that his son stood behind him; therefore he continued his silly tirade.
"Since you're not gonna turn it down, I'll do it for you." He went and jabbed the volume control on the device. Britney's resonating voice faded to an occasional squeak.
"There. That's better," he said.
I stayed composed.
Joe faced me, chuckling and gloating. "Bet you wish you were still twenty, eh? That why you listen to trash like that? To relive your lost youth or some bullshit?"
"Yes Joe," I calmly stated, though tears threatened beneath the surface. "That's why I listen to trash like this. Exactly why. I wish I could do it all over again. I'd do certain things differently."
That irked him. And when Austin emerged, Joe's glare followed him to the sound system.
Austin flicked up the volume and the end of Baby One More Time exploded.
A smile erupted on my face. I beamed it directly at Joe because now I was gloating. He grimaced, shot a glance at Austin.
Austin stopped the CD player and turned to his father. "So... let me get this straight. You're gonna dictate what kind of music Beth can listen to? Are you really gonna go there? Are you gonna try to control what songs she listens to
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