Page 63 of Not Mine to Rescue
I cleared my throat. “Right.”
“Are you still in therapy?”
It would be wrong to pick up that vase and toss it at his head. I’d not only get charged with assault but also child endangerment. I clasped my hands together so I wouldn’t involuntarily bash it over his head. “I am.”
“It’s not working,” he quipped.
“Oh, it’s working. Just not as quickly as you think it probably should. Each journey is unique.” I spat out the same words my therapist had parroted for the last year and a half.
My phone rang, cutting off Jim’s reply. I wanted to ignore it, but it gave me a great excuse to hold one finger up and avoid my ex-husband’s bullshit.
I softened my voice, but kept it businesslike. “Hi, sorry about that. May I call you back in a bit?”
“Honor, tell me you’re okay and mean it.” Wombat’s voice took on a note I hadn’t heard before. It sat somewhere between bossy and intent to murder.
“I—” Was I really going to lie to him?
“‘Thought so. I’m leaving now.”
“Honey, why won’t you introduce me to your boyfriend?”
Jim deliberately spoke louder than usual. It was so harsh the… thing in his arms fussed.
“You’re still at your ex’s, right?”
No. Please no. This was spiraling out of control.
“Honey?”
“Put Jim-dick on the phone,” Wombat demanded.
“I can’t do that.”
“Then I’m on my way. Tell your ex he better have his dental insurance paid off.”
“Wombat, don’t!”
Jim stared at me oddly.
Too late, I realized what I had exposed.
“You’re dating a biker?” Jim asked.
I pulled the phone away from my ear to calmly lie to Jim. “We’re not dating.”
Unfortunately, Wombat was still listening. “No, we’re fucking!”
Oh, really now? I put the phone back to my ear to break into Wombat’s tirade. “Random?”
“No you don’t. Do not drop the government name on me, woman. I had my tongue all the way up your pussy last night.”
It was all sorts of wrong that Wombat’s growl made me wet. I squeezed my legs together so it wouldn’t betray me.
“Listen, Honey, if you’re in a sexual relationship with one of our clients then you’re going to have to report this to the—”
“He’s not my client!”
Denise picked that moment to return with a glass of wine. Her eyes bounced between Jim and myself. “I thought maybe you’d like the white, but if…”
