Page 95 of Single Dad Dilemma
As I shoved my phone into the center console, I struggled to take a deep breath. A nasty little voice in the back of my head kindly pointed out that I was still being impulsive, but I really didn’t feel like hearing that shit, so I ignored it. Just ... ignored all the things that were making my insides feel tight and squeezy.
Rash.
Reckless.
Stubborn.
You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.
What if I did, though? What if I did and I just didn’t know how? What then? It was like taking a first step out into space when all you’d ever known was the familiarity of solid ground. Fear had a way of doing that, leashing you somewhere because it felt safe.
My hands trembled while I pressed them against my eye sockets. But there was no forcibly removing Barrett’s voice from my head. If the man ever found out, he’d be insufferable, knowing he’d laid anchor somewhere in my subconscious, like a hot Jiminy Cricket trying to teach me all sorts of life lessons.
While I waited for the car to warm up, and the defrost to kick in and remove the fog from the glass, I pressed my fists up to my mouth and blew warm air onto my fingers.
Barrett doing the same thing flashed in my head, and I had to pinch my eyes shut to ban the memory. My hands fumbled with the knobs on the dashboard, and I cued up some female rage music.
There.
I sat my head back on the seat and nodded along to the beat. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes, watching the fog dissipate and my view to the outside clear up.
The snow was still magical. Any other thought to the contrary was just my epically bad mood talking. If I closed my eyes again, I’d see him.
Flakes landing on his face. Catching on his hair.
Catching on mine. The warmth of his gloves when I slipped my fingers inside.
I pressed my hands to my face and let out a deep breath.
No. No, no,no.
We didn’t need happy, sweet thoughts about the way he looked at me while the snow fell soft from the sky. My heart was still too fucking broken for any of this.
It was all I could do to get out of bed that morning, and I’d stared blankly at Larry’s food and water bowls until my eyes turned all gritty and dry. I could pick that shit up later.
Larry should’ve given me a little heads-up, you know? Tapped something out in Morse code.
Ready for doggie heaven. I is tired and you talk too much.
Everything about this sudden life change really just pissed me off.
Anger was easier. I wasn’t actually mad at that little grouch, but if I didn’t stay firmly camped where I was, I’d start thinking other things.
Sad, heartbreaking things.
Crying things.
Soon I’d be waist deep in chocolate and eating cookie dough straight from the bowl and sobbing until my face puffed out.
Between the snow and Barrett and the dog, I was a lit keg ready to freaking blow.
I put the car in reverse and slowly made my way out of the slushy parking lot. The roads were slippery, and as my hands clutched the steering wheel, I cursed my past self for all sorts of things.
“Lying out in the snow,” I muttered, then squealed when I hit the brakes too hard approaching a red light and the back end of the car fishtailed a little. “Making cookies and standing under mistletoe. Ugh. Keeping the dog in thefirstplace. What was I thinking?”
But there was no one to listen.
My stomach trembled, a slow reverberation that worked its way up to my chest. My throat. My hands, which would’ve shook if I wasn’t white-knuckling the wheel.
