This Is Me (Cover Girlfriend, Book Three)

Episode Thirteen

Carlos

*Sunday Afternoon*

Terri’s killing me.  Fucking.  Killing.  Me.

I told her not to go.  To leave him alone.  But does she listen?  No.  And do I hear about it?  You betcha.  Because Jerry?  Isn’t the meek little mouse I hired as an intern years ago.  No, since getting into a relationship with Mel he’s grown a pair of balls to match the size of his morals, and has no qualms against pointing out that ‘Ms. Lee has no reason to bother Mr. Denby at his place of business.’  And, ‘if you (I) need anything from Mr. Denby, ask me (Jerry) to get it.  Mel insists.’

To make matters worse?

She’s convinced Jonathon to change the code to the apartment (fucking bastard bought me out) that she’s using for the purpose of painting.  And locked me out.

Informed me that she’s not taking my calls, or answering my texts.  That she’ll do what she came to do, and leave, and that I can deal with everything else.

Which is why I’m sitting in the penthouse Ali shares with Jonathon feeling as if my whole world has turned upside down.  Again.

And she?  Is laughing while she tells me she’s not interested in my P.P..

Note.  This is not a fucking pity party.

“You’re just sulky because you can’t control her.  And I find it delightful.”

I mentally shrug off the feeling that she may be right.

“She knew we’d have to be seen socially.  So why back out now?”

“Because she feels she’s done that part,” Jonathon quips from the kitchen’s archway, where he leans against its frame and sips a cup of that horrid shit.  I can smell the coffee in the air.

“Does she really think that a few months of dates is going to convince my father I’ve given up on.”  I can’t say his name because time means nothing when it comes to Linc; how much I miss him.  I fight back the emotions even the thought of it brings.  “Mr. Rickerts knows me better than that.  You know that.”

I meet his hazel-brown gaze.

Jonathon’s eyes are hard, despite the small smile that tilts the corners of his lips.

“Of course I do.”  Before I can interrupt, he continues with, “But I also know it’s not her job to keep you away from Lincoln.  That’s on you.”

Damn it!

I know he’s right.  And, I have stayed away.

But I miss him.  And Zippers.

That feeling of coming home to them.

Aware that tears fill my eyes, I fight them from falling.  Fail.  Drop my head into my palms; elbows on my knees.

“Honestly don’t know what he sees in you.”  I raise my head to glare at Jonathon even as I catch him lifting his cup in my direction, “But you’ve got good taste.”

What the fuck does that mean?

Ali must see my confusion, because she explains, “Jay has a thing for cooties man.  Thinks he’s super badass or some shit.  I don’t get it either.”

“He’s a berserker,” Jonathon cuts it, obvious respect in his usually bored vocals; glides across the floor to sit on the other side of his wife, “And a damned good one.  I’ve asked a few people; he’s feared in a lot of places, but makes an affiliation to no one, and made clear over a decade ago he never would; that he demands to have a ‘normal’ life.  You can’t not respect that from such a little thing.”