Page 111 of Begrudgingly Yours
She laughs and says, “From what you’ve told me, it’s definitelyEverett.”
I shake my head at her joke. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, right?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. I need some girl time.”
Oh, gosh. It’s so true. Ever since we all moved to different places in the country, it feels like there’s more and more testosterone. Less so for Stacia since she has her little one. But since Opal and her pack are coming to visit, we’re making up for lost time.
I hang up with Opal and make my way into the den, completely unsurprised when Dax has our giant dog sprawled over his lap. Jett is on the other side with our long-haired Ragdoll, Arabelle.
“What happened?” I ask as they both narrow their eyes at each other.
“She hit Benji!” Dax points an accusing finger at our cat and Jett huffs out with frustration.
“She’s acat, and he’s always in her space. What do you expect?”
When Everett and I randomly brought home the stray cat and dog, neither of us thought Dax and Jett would find themselves on opposite sides of them. For the past few weeks, Dax has been protective of our golden retriever, while Jett has fully bonded with Arabelle. They both claim that the other animal is a menace to theirs, a saga that purely lives for Everett and I’s entertainment.
I honestly think they’re both just trying to prove that they’re the better pet parent. I haven’t seen any interaction between the two animals that would suggest they hate each other.
“I just think Ara should keep her claws to herself,” Dax says, petting Benji on his dopey head. His tongue hangs out to the side as he pants and eats up Dax’s attention. I don’t think he’s thinking about the slap even a little bit.
Everett walks in at that second, carrying bags full of stuff. When he sees us, he grins. “I knew everyone needed a pick-me-up.”
He takes one thing after the other out of the bag and throws them at us. He even has individual treats for the fur babies. I’ve never seen anyone have instincts like Everett. It’s almost borderline psychic.
He walks to me, towering over me in a way that feelsmoretoday. Probably because I’m ovulating. If I didn’t have an IUD, I’m sure he could get me pregnant just from one sexy stare alone.
“How’s my girl?” he asks.
Yep. Instantly pregnant.
“I’m doing good,” I reply, biting my lip. “The prime showed up and saved the day, so it’s improving.”
“Are they still fighting on our animals’ behalves?”
I give an exaggerated nod. “Our pets don’t even care, they’re just doing it for their own amusement. If we ever had kids, can you imagine how much worse they would be?”
He gives me a serious look and lowers his voice. “Are you rethinking your stance on having kids?”
I can see why my statement could be one from out of left field. I was firm with them about my desire to not be a mother. Even in the past ten years, I haven’t faltered on that.
I give a slight shrug. “Not really. Not right now, anyway. But therapy has been helping more than I thought.”
That’s an understatement. My therapist is a freaking saint for putting up with me. She’s one of the most understanding people I’ve ever met. She hasn’t tried to change my mind about having kids, but we’ve definitely worked through my reason for it. I still don’t want to have any. My career is too important and I like my free time, but I’m no longertriggeredby the idea of having them.
And I think that’s a great step for me. Not in the direction of having a family, but in the direction of no longer letting my mother dictate how my life goes.
“I’m really glad you found someone that understands you.” Ev caresses the side of my face like he has a million times before, but it still gives me the same rush of goosebumps that it did in college.
“I’m glad you did, too.” Everett has his own therapist and sees them quite often. Underneath the frat boy facade, he is a really sensitive person and his career takes a toll sometimes. It was watching him take his mental health by the horns that persuaded me to do the same thing and jump all the way into therapy. Those support groups helped back in college, but finding a professional was the right move for me.
After that day in the parking lot, I didn’t hear from my mother for a long time. I’m not sure what happened exactly, but Dax told me that his family took care of it. I’m also not sure what he meant by “took care of it”, but it was frightening enough that my mother didn’t want my money anymore in the slightest.
That ended after I got my first major role. I was like a honey trap for my mother after that. Calls, texts, threatening letters. We finally had to put out an official restraining order.
Which apparently wasn’t what Dax meant the first time when he said they“took care of it.”
I don’t have any qualms about my mother anymore, at least not consciously. After working with tons of alphas on and off set for years now, all wonderful in their own ways minus the few expected bad eggs, it’s easier now to see that my mother is an outlier. A really mean and nasty one, but an outlier nonetheless.
