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My phone pings beside me, alerting me to a text.
August:We need to have a chat, you busy woman.
Tenley:I’m working. Someone’s got to.
August:Truth. Well, you free to talk now?
Tenley:Sure. Fire away.
And there he is.
“You know, texting works just fine,” I tell him, answering on the first ring like a desperate little bitch.
His hearty chuckle greets me. “Nah. Feels too formal.”
I grin and thank the stars no one is here to see it. “It’s literally the opposite of formal, but okay, asswipe. What do we need to talk about?”
“You’re so sweet to me, my beautiful purple flower,” August sighs. “How about the child that’s in your uterus at the moment?”
“Oh god. Don’t tell me you’ve been researching a woman’s body?”
“I’m appalled that you would even suggest I don’t already know my way around a woman’s body. I can remind you just how much?—”
“Ah! No! Shut it down, Graves.”
He laughs. “Fine. But just know the offer is always there. Can’t get you pregnant twice.” His laughter does something to my heart. It stirs something wild and questionable.
I hate it.
“You needed to talk to me about…our child?”
“Ah!” he exclaims. “Yes. So, what’s the plan? When do you think you can have all your stuff boxed up to move in with me?”
What in the actual hell?
“Savage man, say whatttt?” I ask, feeling completely thrown off by his confident assumption. Far too confident, I might add.
“You heard me. You can’t live alone, Tenley. And since we’re doing this parenting thing together, I want to make sure you and the baby are safe and close by so I can take care of you. Both of you.”
He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks I’m giving up my space to live with him. I can’t live with him. I can barely tolerate being in the same room as him for longer than ten minutes.
Yet alone, wake up to his annoying comments and witness his mustache grooming. Not that I know he groomshis mustache, but I’d assume so. It looks perfect around the clock.
No mustache ever looks that perfect.
Again, not a good idea.
“I’m not moving in with you, August.” There’s zero sense of wavering in my tone, and I’m proud of that.
“And why’s that, Mama?”
This man knows how hot he is. But today, that irresistible charm ain’t workin’ on me. I’m not easily swayed by some hopeless flirting.
So, I shoot it to him straight. “Because one, you live in a house full of man children. And two, because I have a perfectly fine place of my own. Plenty of people co-parent separately. The baby isn’t even here yet, for crying out loud.”
He doesn’t need to know my real reason. The reason I’ll never admit to myself. Because I’ve tasted his fruit and seen that it is good.
Nope. Never. Somehow, he’d find a way to have me naked in his bed.
