Page 27 of Hitched

“You’re such a fucking suck up, Laney. No wonder you never get laid.”

My jaw drops. “How dare you! Since when is my sex life any of your business?”

“Since I became a part of it.” He says so smugly my blood boils. I feel the muscles in my jaw clench as I pull my wallet out of my purse, place a hundred dollar bill on the table, put my wallet away all the while he’s watching me, like I’m a goddamn football game. That’s when I raise my hand and smack him in the face so hard, I wipe that stupid little smirk off it.

My feet can’t get me out of there fast enough as I storm out, leaving my uneaten dinner behind. As I drive home, hitting the gas pedal hard, I feel like I should have punched him. And if it weren’t for my fear of seeing the look of disappointment on da’s face, I should have told him about Caleb and his disgusting behavior. Then again, da doesn’t need more of a reason to hate Caleb.

Pulling up to my house, I open the gate and drive in, and that’s when I notice that I’ve got company. The fucker must have followed me here. I consider slamming on the brakes to prevent him from following me in, but I like my back bumper, and he’s not worth the damage. So, I pull up to my house and get out of the car fast.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I shout at him. “Why the hell did you follow me here!”

I notice the welt on his cheek and let myself feel the satisfaction.

“You’ve got your fucking nerve hitting me like that! What are you, a psycho bitch!”

“Did you not hear yourself, Caleb? Your comment deserved the treatment it received, you asshole!”. He’s looking at me, wondering why I’m not opening the door. But I’m no fool. I refuse to let this jerkwad into my house. It’s bad enough that he followed me here.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” He shouts, trying to justify his behavior. “I wasn’t out of line when I said that I was—" he’s about to retell what he said at the restaurant, but I stop him, fishing my keys out of my purse feverishly. I’m going to set him straight in the privacy of my own house, once and for all, and not out here, where my neighbors can hear. That’s the last thing I need right now. I open the door and slam it behind him, after grabbing him by the arm, forcing him into the house, before he says another word.

“My sex life, nor any part of my life, is none of your fucking business!” I shout, finishing the thought that I was going to share while we were outside, but thought better of it, until we had the privacy to do it. “What we did before was clearly a stupid mistake!”

“Which part was stupid, huh! We fucked! So what! You clearly needed it, you were so fucking horny for me!” He shouts, equally pissed, and I can’t figure out why.

“It takes two to tango, Caleb!” I shout. We’re both standing two feet apart, yet we’re yelling at each other, as though we’re on opposite sides of the street, and there’s road repairs going on…and a jack hammer running. I walk to the kitchen, thinking that I’m fucking starved, because I didn’t eat anything at the restaurant. And the thought pisses me off even more; the fact that I paid a hundred dollars and got nothing but an unwanted house guest.

As I slam a frying pan on the stove, he’s shouting at me. “I can’t believe you fucking hit me! No woman has ever done that!”

“Yeah, well, then you were long overdue, asshole! Where do you get off speaking to me like that in public!” I slam the butter on the frying pan, like it weighs a hundred times more than it does. It hits the pan with a loud clunk. Inside my fridge is a stir fry mixture that I’d prepared for my lunch tomorrow, but there’s enough there to have for lunch and dinner. As I feel my stomach gnawing at my spine, I consider eating the whole damn lot.

“Where do you get off fucking hitting me in public! I ought to sue you!”

The Scottish is clearly coming out of both of us. We yell a lot. My whole family is like that, and I’ve heard that his is, too. My da could yell loud enough to implode the walls at the office, and he has, several times. We Scots have a temper, and it shows. “Well, next time think twice about asking me something so blunt like that, when an entire restaurant is sitting there, witnessing! Where is your fucking brain, Caleb! Did you really think I wouldn’t hit you?!”

He walks to the freezer and finds an ice pack, and then he helps himself to the dish towel hanging off the rack on the stove, and I snort a laugh. “God, you’re a fucking pansy.”

“And you’re a fucking bitch.” He mutters, applying it to his face.

“Is your da going to put a hit on my head now, for scolding his precious son?”

He draws in a deep breath and lets it out. “No.” He finally says. “Technically, in his eyes, we’re supposed to be engaged by now.”

I toss the stir fry into the pan, listening to it sizzle, as I flip it over a few times, while it’s on high. “Yeah, well, fat chance of that ever happening. You had a one in a gazillion chance before that, but now you just crushed that. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last living man on earth.”

He pulls the ice pack off his face for a moment, and for the first time ever, I see sadness in his eyes. “Fuck.”

I try to ignore his solemn face, as he swears under his breath, and I push the food into an awaiting bowl, and sit down, continuing to ignore him. As I shovel the concoction into my mouth, I feel a certain satisfaction, knowing that I’m being inhospitable to the person who deserves it. Normally, this would be considered behaving like a bottom feeder in my family, but it’s rather fitting in such company. He stands there, nursing his face, as I stuff mine. I’m a quick eater, as is anyone up to their eyeballs in work most of the time, so I finish fast, and throw my bowl in the sink, letting out a soft belch under my breath.

“I hope you lost points with your da for that.” I add, putting salt on the wound.

“Actually, I already told him that I fucked you, so he was pretty pleased about that.” He places the ice pack down on the counter, and watches as my gaze burns into his.

“You asshole.” I seethe. “I can’t believe you sucked your da’s ass like that.”

“Don’t worry, Laney. He doesn’t think you’re a slut.”

“Oh, goodie.” I’m facetious, my tone caustic. “That’s what I was worried about. Forget about the fact that he wants me to marry his asshole son. Did you tell him I said there was a snowball’s chance in hell of that ever happening?”

He nods. “In not so many words, but yeah.”

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