Page 32 of Friends That Heal Us
“Don’t say anything, or I’ll put on a chick flick.”
He chuckles softly. “That’s fine.”
I glance over at him from the corner of my eye. The setting sun shines through the windows, leaving a glow across his face. “Thank you for making this whole situation a lot better.”
He tilts his head over to me and meets my gaze as I tilt my head over to him. His lips turn into a soft smile. “You’re welcome. You’ve made it better for me too.”
A smile forms on my face, and we both turn our attention back to the TV. I decide to put onCoyote Ugly. It’s not too sappy but has a happy ending.
“Oh, bar dancing. My favorite,” he says in a sarcastic tone.
I chuckle as it starts to play.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
VIOLET
Violet: You need to move your stuff out!
Fucker: What? Why?
Violet: Because I’m sick of looking at it.
Fucker: It’s my house too.
Violet: Last time I checked, it was only my name on the deed and the mortgage.
Fucker: But I help pay for that mortgage.
Violet: You’re not now.
Fucker: I never said I wasn’t going to help you.
Violet: I don’t want your help. So come get your shit out or I’ll throw it out.
I should’ve donewhat Ashley did with her ex’s stuff. That would have been a sight to see on Zayn’s face knowing I threw away all his shit.
Fucker: I’ll come over after work and we can talk about it.
Violet: The only thing we’re talking about is you moving your shit out of this house.
Violet: And DIVORCE!!
I’m already exhausted just from texting him. I knew he would want totalkabout it. That’s what I was trying to avoid. It needs to get done, though. If I’m going to be staying in this house, I can’t have his stuff here.
Fucker: You don’t mean that. Please let’s talk. I’ve been giving you your space. The least you can do is talk to me.
Oh my hell. The nerve of him. I don’t know who he is anymore; he’s a completely different person now. He cheats, and he thinks he deserves some kind of conversation because he’s beengiving me space. As if staying out of my way makes him some kind of noble king. The audacity this man has makes me so angry. He wasn’t thinking about me when he was sleeping with her. He wasn’t thinking about me when he was tearing everything we built apart. He wasn’t even thinking about his best friend. And now he wants a pat on the back or something?
I set my phone aside and let out a heavy breath, looking around my living room. I don’t even know where to start. One blanket we used sits at the end of the couch folded up. I grab it and throw it on the ground. Then I head for the linen closet and grab the rest of the extra blankets, sheets, and pillowcases and throw them on the ground. As I’m pulling them out, I’m wondering why we have so many and why we kept them all. Some are from the time when we first got married. They’re so old.
I turn to the towels. The only towels we shared were the hand towels, but I could not care less about his towels he used when he got out of the shower. I grab those and throw them in the pile. While I’m at it, I might as well throw the hand towels out too. I shift my gaze deeper into the shelf and grab the beach towels as well.
You know, fuck it. Instead of wasting my time going through everything, I throw everything out of the linen closet onto the floor. After the shelves are bare, I look down at the huge pile I created.
I head for the kitchen and grab a few garbage bags and start bagging everything up. Three bags later, and I’m already sweating. I should hire that dumpster company just for my sake. I walk to each bathroom to grab all of the towels and throw those away.
I take the bags out to the garbage can and throw each bag in, almost filling it up. I groan seeing how little space is left, and there is still so much more stuff to go through. But part of me already feels some relief—like the house feels lighter, and I can breathe better. It feels good that I’m finally choosing myself for once. Back then I would’ve asked Zayn if he wanted any of it before deciding to throw it away.
