Page 10 of Marrying My Ex's Boss

JUSTINE

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‘If you don’t marry him bitch, I will.’

And how is that supposed to work?

‘I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. Girl, he is fiiiiiiine.’

He’s also batshit crazy and a whole lotta other shit. Now, hush, so I can figure out a way to get the hell outta here without getting hacked to death.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Oh, that’ll be Monique and Carl; I figured you should meet them first thing.” He opened the door, and there was a military man standing there with a tall, beautiful black woman who looked to be about my age. Didn’t he say her son was in his second year of med school?

“Carl, Monique, meet your new mistress. Justine, this is Carl and Monique. You two be nice.”

“Ma’am.” Carl slightly nodded his head.

“He didn’t kidnap you, did he?” Monique asked while glaring at Marcus.

I could only shake my head because she looked ready to take down both men. “You sure? Cause he don’t have a lick a sense.”

“No, I’m sure, I promise.”

“Okay then. Since you got me out here at the ass crack of dawn, you can make me breakfast. And before you twist your mouth to lie, Carl already told me he made a food drop.”

She made herself comfortable at the table, and Marcus went back to the stove, muttering something about who’s boss or who’s the boss? “So, what illegal acts are you getting me involved in this time?” She rolled her eyes.

“Why are you giving my future wife a bad impression of me? Tell her I’ve never done anything illegal. She tends to not trust me as it is.”

“Smart woman. Don’t trust him. You can trust everything he says, but don’t trust him. He’s not exactly what you would call normal.” She twirled her finger around her temple, and he smacked her on her fingers with the spatula.

What happened? Was there something in those drinks I had at the bar? No, it was the weed. It was laced with something. When he came over to the table and leaned down to look at me, I pinched his cheek. “You’re real? Is he real?” I asked Monique.

“Have mercy; you didn’t give her none a that shit you brought back from the Congo, did you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t, I promise, I swear. Babe, what’s the matter?”

What’s the matter? One of the richest men in the world is standing in my kitchen in my Grandmother’s apron, I now noticed, with a spatula in his hand, shaking it at a black woman who was yelling at him for who knows what and an ex-Navy SEAL was sitting at my table looking bored.

That hairless motherfucker had driven me crazy. My poor babies.

JUSTINE

“Come on, baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? The hell do you mean what’s wrong? Look at her. I know it usually takes you about a day and a half to turn them stupid, but this is a record even for you.”

“Hush, Monique. Baby?” He waved his hand in front of my face, and I looked around at the three of them before going back to my eggs.

“Tell my family I want to be cremated. Tell my sister Janet she can have those pearl earrings Nana gave me and tell the boys, my brothers, tell them that I love them and my babies….”

‘Oh no, you ain’t bitch. You ain’t about to lose your mind before we get a taste a that dick. Snap your ass clear out of it.’ Thwack.

Justice, what the fuck?

“Babe, why are you hitting yourself in the head?” I looked up at Marcus and then over at Monique, who was shaking her head.

“Poor thing, you weren’t showing off your bank account again, were you?”

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