“She doesn’t owe you anything. She asked you to leave. Don’t make me call the cops.” His voice is low and pissed, and Sylvia takes a step back, her eyes wide and stunned.
Did she really think she could just show up here and leave with a pocket full of money?
Yes.
Because I always give in to her. No matter how ashamed I feel later, I always give in.
No more.
“Go back to Montana, Sylvia. You wasted your time coming here.” I mutter angrily as I link my hand with Will’s. He squeezes my hand reassuringly.
“I don’t have any money!” she whines.
“Not my problem. I sent you money.”
“Not enough,” she spits out.
“It’s the last you’ll get from me.” My voice is low now, and firm. Her eyes register surprise again, and then they narrow on my face with such hatred I take a step backward. Will frowns down at me and squeezes my hand again.
“You’ll send it. You know what will happen if you don’t. I’ll go to the press and tell them all about the big football star’s new girlfriend. What a piece of trash she is. Where she comes from.” Sylvia sneers at me. “Won’t that be great publicity for him?”
“Call the police,” Will states calmly and Sylvia’s jaw drops.
“I’ll go to the press…”
“Go to the press. Go anywhere you want, as long as it’s not here. I don’t give a shit what you say. Megan is not trash, she just comes from it.” I gape up at him, as Sylvia gasps at the insult. “You can’t hurt her. She’s told you to leave, now leave.”
She looks at me, her mouth set in a grim line. “Fine.”
She marches down to the ancient Honda parked at the curb and then looks back at me. “You always were a worthless piece of shit.”
“Get the fuck out!” Will yells, cutting her off. She jumps in her car and speeds away.
I can’t move. I just stand here, in the rain, hugging myself and watch her car disappear down the street.
“Look at me.”
I’m too ashamed. Jesus, what must he think of me now? I bury my face in my hands and will the tears back.
Crying won’t solve anything.
“Just go, Will.”
“Look at me,” he repeats, his hands on my shoulders now. “Megan, stop. Look at me.”
I look up into his eyes, still so embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry…”
“Shh.” He shakes his head and hugs me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pinning my arms against his chest, and I’ve never felt so safe. “I’m sorry she’s so horrible.”
“I meant it,” I mumble against him. “I’m not sending her any more money.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re not either. She will ask you.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, non-committally.
“I mean it.”
“Okay. Let’s go inside.” He picks up our bags and leads me in the house, disarming the alarm.
“I’m surprised she didn’t try to break in and wait for me in the house,” I comment. That’s her usual M.O.
“She must have seen the alarm. See? I told you you needed an alarm.” He offers me a smug smile and my chest loosens. I don’t want to think about Sylvia anymore. She can’t hurt me.
I snicker as he turns his back to me to pick our bags up and take them upstairs. “Yes, you were right.”
“What did you say?” he asks sarcastically.
“You’re handsome,” I reply with a grin.
“No, that’s not what you said,”
“I like your shirt?”
“Nope.” He sets the bags down and slowly saunters to me, his eyes narrowed and a smile tickling his lips. “Tell me.”
“Um… I think we should order dinner in?”
He laughs now, full-out, and the knot in my stomach from seeing Sylvia on my doorstep is gone.
“I think you said something about me being right.”
“Did not,” I scoff.
“Did too.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I reply and shake my head. “You must be thinking of someone else.”
“No, you’re the only beautiful, smart-mouthed woman on my mind these days.”
“Gee, that’s so good to hear,” I reply sarcastically and he sweeps in and throws me over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.
“Hey! Our luggage!”
“We’ll get it later. I think I need to teach you a lesson.”
“What kind of lesson?” I look down at his firm, tight ass and give it a little smack, just because I can.
He smacks mine back, making me yelp.
“The fun kind.”
I smile and brace myself on his lean hips as he easily climbs the stairs.
God, I love him.
*
“So, you’re playing Arizona next Sunday?” I ask from my spot on the couch. Will taught me my lesson. I think I may need more lessons like that in the future. I’m a slow learner. Then we ordered in dinner, and now we’re on the couch, watching football.
Well, Will is watching football. I’m about to paint my toenails.
“Yes.”
“At home?” I ask casually.
“Yes,” he smiles at me. “And after the game, the whole family is going to my mom and dad’s for dinner. It’ll probably be the last weekend this year that we can still enjoy their backyard.”
“Okay.”
“I want you there.”