Page 96 of Gifts

“Like a cartoon?”

“No.” He gives her one more kiss and sets her down. “You’ll see tonight. Work hard, baby.”

I look down at my kids and try to smile, but I just can’t manage it, and my voice even sounds hoarse. “Load up. I’ll be right there.”

“You okay?” Asa starts for me but I take a step back and put my hand up.

“This has happened really fast.” I spew my words, swallowing hard, and try my best to keep in check so I don’t fall apart before work.

Asa narrows his eyes. “What’s happened fast?”

“This,” I motion between us, “has morphed into something much too quickly.”

His face turns hard and he narrows his eyes, studying me. “Too quickly?”

“I didn’t mean for it to. I agreed to dinner at first and then everything happened. It’s too much for me. I’ve decided I need some space.”

“You need some space,” he mutters, processing what I’m saying.

“I mean,” I take a big breath so I have the will to do what I need to. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. This is serious.”

“This is serious,” he agrees with me.

“No. I mean, we’re practically living together and our children are involved. I need some time to think.”

“You need some time to think?”

“Quit repeating me, Asa.” This is painful enough as it is. I need it to be done.

He takes another step—a big one—forcing me to take two back. If steps had dispositions, his would be menacing and angry. “I’m repeating you because you’re not making any fucking sense.”

“Don’t cuss at me,” I warn, only because I have no idea what else to say. My verbal sparring skills have suddenly taken a vacation. They’re probably somewhere drunk on a beach right now.

“Baby, the word fuck pretty much has a home address on your bottom lip. If you’re not reining it in for the kids’ sake or have that mouth wrapped around my dick, you’re cussing.”

I gasp. He did not just say that. “Fuck you.”

“See?” His head tilts in a condescending manner. “If you want to try your other favorite pastime and go to town on my cock, I’m all up for it, but your kids are waiting in the car and mine are asleep upstairs.”

I pull my lips in and do my best not to look down to see if he’s hard through his shorts, because he’s right. I do love his cock and that’s saying something. I’ve never liked giving head until I met Asa. But somehow when I’m giving him a blow job, he still manages to make it about me, dammit. He should write a manual. There would be more blow jobs in the world, and therefore, happier, more agreeable men.

“We could always go to the pantry,” he eggs me on.

“Stop it,” I demand. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then don’t spew this shit at me,” he returns my fire.

“Dammit, Asa. I need to slow down. I need space. I need a break from us.”

“You don’t.” Those two words come back at me strong and clear.

“I do.” My voice cracks again. “I need things to go back to normal, where no one’s getting stitched up, or threatened by murderers, or people running out into the night. Your house is livable again. It’s time you go back.”

His jaw goes hard and he looks to the side and stares out my kitchen window.

“I need time, Asa. Space.”

His eyes dart back to mine. Those hazel eyes I’ve come to love so much are now dark and angry. “You don’t know what you need.”

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