Page 85 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
“No. He’ll get punished. But with lawyers adding red tape, it’ll just take a while. There’s no way he gets away with it. Not after I caught him in the act.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s over. Having the pumpkins gone will be good motivation for me to tear down Halloween decorations and put out the Thanksgiving stuff.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously, what?” I asked, confused.
“Thanksgiving decorations?”
“Well, yeah. I decorate for every holiday.”
“What are we talking about here? Does Thanksgiving have more or less than Halloween?”
“Thanksgiving, less. Christmas, you don’t want to know.”
He stood to take his dishes to the kitchen sink, grumbling something under his breath I didn’t catch. But this time I was able to clearly make out the f-word.
We followed the normal bedtime routine and once Roe was asleep, I went downstairs to find Jess on the couch, watching TV. I had wanted to talk to him about my conversation with his mother and her phone calls with Ben, but with all the drama, I had forgotten last night.
“Honey?” I said, taking a sideways seat on the couch.
“Yeah?”
“So, last night, your mom said a few things to me that were, well, random.”
“That’s her. What’d she say?”
“Well . . . first she told me I was a good mom, which was sweet of her to say,” I said.
“You are. A great mom.”
“Thanks.” I blushed a little and couldn’t help but smile. I knew I was a good mom but Jess saying it with such confidence and conviction made my heart swell with pride.
“Anyway, she started telling me about Ben. How he gave you this house. That it’s your pride and joy and—”
Jess jumped from the couch, and using all of the strength he had in one arm, threw the remote at one of the big chairs. If not for the thick cushions, the remote would have shattered. He tipped his head down to me with angry eyes.
“Fucking not this again.”
“Wh—”
“What do I have to do, Georgia? Huh? What do I have to do to convince you that I don’t want this fucking house?” he yelled.
“Jess—”
“Sell it.”
“What?” I asked, breathless.
“Sell it. Call the realtor tomorrow. You and Roe will move in with me this weekend.”
“Sell the farmhouse?”
“As far as I can tell, selling this place is gonna be the only thing I can do to show you that I want you. Not this,” he said, throwing a hand up in the air.
I stood from the couch and approached him with gentle hands. “Honey—” I started but was stopped when he interrupted me. Again.
“I mean it, Georgia. I’m done fighting with you about this. And if selling this place is what it takes, then we’re doing it. Jesus. It’s just a fucking house!”
