Our Turn

“Fine.” She shrugs and grabs the iPhone out of my hand. “Then we need to go, or I’ll be late. The seniors will be upset if the bus doesn’t arrive on time. And we need to go by my place and feed the fish.”

Truth is, I love that she loves her job so much. I would have liked to spend the morning with her, here, eating that pussy a few more times, but there are things I can take care of while she’s at work that I can’t with her here.

First is, I need to see my lawyer. This court appearance hadn’t even really been on my mind until I met her, but now it needs to be taken care of. And then I need to see about getting out of this life.

I glance at the clock.

“It’s barely even eight, baby.” Taking a step forward, I cage her against the kitchen counter and drop my voice a semitone. “And all this arguing has given me an appetite.”

She takes the smallest breath, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, and her voice is barely a whisper when she says, “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry for food, Precious, and you know it.”

The whimper of response tells me all I need to know.

In the next second, I’ve got her legs draped over my shoulders devouring her in ways that shouldn’t be legal.

She’s speaking in tongues by the time I finish, and I can’t imagine not having her in my life. It’s like she been with me forever. How I lived without her – and this – for so long, I will never know.

AFTER I ATE HER OUT for breakfast and dropped her at work, I headed straight over to my lawyer’s office. He didn’t seem too pleased to see me, said next time I need to make an appointment, but fuck it, I pay him enough he should see me when I want.

The news is good and bad. If I’m willing to plead guilty to simple assault, my lawyer thinks the prosecutor might go for a community service sentence and a slap on the wrist. No point wasting the court’s time and all that.

Even if they want to show how tough they are, I’ll probably be looking at only six months. If I plead innocent, on the other hand, there’s a good chance I’ll get away with it completely, walk out of the courtroom and never look back. But if they can prove I’m guilty, the likelihood is I’ll be spending the next year in prison.

And the thing is, I’m guilty as fuck.

I don’t know if I can stand there and lie, knowing I have to square that with Nicci and all the things I want for us. How can I possibly tell our kids one day that they need to tell the truth, to take responsibility for their actions, and all the time know that I’m no better myself?

Yeah, I know, I said kids. And not just one. Plural.

But since I met her, there are a lot of things that have changed for me. I want a life. I want her. And I’d kind of like to not go to prison.

I’m on my way over to Nicci’s apartment now, yes to feed the fish as I promised, but also because it’s about to be her former apartment. No way is she going back there again, not now that I have her in my house. Our house. So I’m going to pay off any remaining lease and get her stuff moved out today. For starters, I need to know her fish are safe. Because if anything happened to them, I’d be devastated. And second, I don’t like her being this far out of my sight.

As I pull around the corner onto her street, I see a van parked outside her building, and I swear I recognize the sofa two men are carrying out, dumping it on the sidewalk as they get the van open. It’s Nicci’s sofa. I’m sure of it. It even has the same patched corner that looks out of place.

What the fuck is going on?

Pulling into the side of the road, I’m out of my Suburban in a few seconds and jogging across the street towards an older guy who’s watching the furniture being loaded into the van. He looks my way and takes a step back when he sees me coming.

“Help you?”

“What’s going on here?”

He glances at the furniture, then back at me, clearly still nervous. “Eviction. You need an apartment?”

“Do I look like I need one of your shitty apartments? That’s my girl’s stuff, and if you cause any damage, I’ll damage you. Understand?”

He shrugs. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. County says evict, I evict. I just manage the building for them. You don’t like it, then take it up with them.”