Page 91 of Ella Gets the D
“Enough!” he barks. “You’re worse than our mother.”
A lacquered pink nail wags in his face. “You better be thankful it’s me here and not her to see all of”—her hand waves in disgust—“this.” She scoffs. “Of all the women in DC.”
“Hey!” I take offense at that.
Morgan peeks back at me in apology. “Sorry, girl. You know I love you. My mother does too, but she’s had plans for this one”—her index finger flicks Julian dead in his forehead—“for some time. A fling isn’t worth all that drama.”
“It’s not a fling!” We both say to the intruder who’s fucking up our Sunday.
Julian spins her to face the hall and pushes her out. “Go downstairs and give us a minute.”
Morgan’s shouts fade to a pestering buzz as sunlight hits Julian’s body and dances off the hard muscles he wrapped around me last night. I watch the crease between his thick pecs and the lines in his abs as he zips up. A barefoot Julian in jeans is a sight to see.
He wets his bottom lip. “Take your time getting ready. I’ll make us breakfast.” His eyes crawl up my curves draped in the white sheet I let pool in my lap. “I know what I want to eat.”
Then Morgan appears in the doorway. The dildo she throws connects with the back of Julian’s head, knocking him forward. “Quit being nasty with Ella and get down here, Julian Michel!”
Julian rushes out the door. “Throw another thing in my house, and I’ll hang this dick outside yours like a door knocker!”
The sibling banter carries through the bathroom like surround sound as I wash my face, brush my teeth, and get ready to stand in front of Morgan’s one-woman firing squad. This wasn’t how I pictured my life five months into my separation, or telling my best friend about me and her brother, but I welcome the chaos of Julian shouting, “Do you want eggs or not?” and Morgan yelling back, “Yes!” with the goofiest grin on my face.
Chapter 34
Ella
“Another one from the 1900s?” Haile has the nerve to scrunch her face in disappointment as she sinks into the sectional with folded arms and a pout.
“Excuse me, little girl, but the ’90s wasn’tthatlong ago.” I grab the Twizzlers from her hand and make a face. So much for our basement movie marathon. “Jackson, back me up.”
He leans back on the chaise with his hands behind his head and crosses his ankles, shifting the blue robe over his Minecraft pajamas like a man who pays the mortgage. He smirks. “It was over thirty years ago.”
I look between the two children who came from my womb.The audacity. “Have I steered y’all wrong today?”
“No,” they say in unison and with as much enthusiasm as someone counting carpet fibers.
I point to the screen. “This is a classic. You’ll both thank me later.”
And thank me they did.3 Ninjasis the shit, and I’ll hear no slander about it. By the end of the movie, we’re chanting aboutRocky and Emily and ordering pizza, ready to throw hands if the delivery person turns out to be a robber.
The day has been a cleansing breath, a reset from the hustle of work, school, Katharine’s, and the commute we sprint week after week on the hamster wheel of routine. I don’t have Haile and Jackson on the weekends anymore, and I soak up every second with them between long days at Bright Spot and making dinner.
School is out today and tomorrow, which was the perfect opportunity for me to call off, spend all day in pj’s, and order in. Jackson opted for his Minecraft pajamas, and Haile and I refuse to change out of our matching unicorn onesies.
We’ve gathered around the kitchen island, our central place in the townhouse since we’ve moved in. Our transition hasn’t always been smooth or perfect, but we’ve got each other. And lots of carbs.
“Can I have a playdate with Duke tomorrow?” Jackson’s question comes between chews of his jumbo pizza slice. The thing is bigger than his head, but he also has a stack of veggies on his plate. Balance.
“If he’s not with his dad and Aunt Morgan is okay with it, sure. I’ll text her to ask.”
Haile groans and reaches for her water. “Can we do something else, Mommy? I’m sick of boys; they eat boogers.”
I choke mid-chew and fight to swallow the soft dough melding with cheese and sauce. “They’re not the only ones who do it, sweetie.”
She scoffs. “They do at school.”
Holding back my laugh is a lost cause. Haile is too grown for her age. “What about a picnic near the Potomac? We could pack sandwiches and lemonade.”
“Could we come too? I want to stay in DC if it’s okay with Aunt Morgan.” Jackson peeks from under his thick lashes, his eyes heavy with worry.
