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“Oh, I love that mess of a man. I never doubted that he loves me. We are just incompatible. Like you and my daughter.”

Oh, God, I never want to be like that.

“Him dating our child’s ex is extra cream on the sundae. He’s trying to prove how virile he is, in the most disgusting way possible. I don’t have anything against the girl though….”

Before I know it, I spill that Stephanie May is blackmailing me.

Carolyn’s face goes from semi-amused to about-to-cut-a-fuckhead in five seconds.

“What?” She gets up, flames shooting from her nostrils. “How much?”

I feel like I’m sitting at the feet of my own angry mother. “Fifty thousand a month.”

“Fifty…” Yup. Here comes my mother. “Kathleen Marguerite Allen.” She picks up a magazine from the coffee table, rolls it up, and thwacks me on the head. “You’re an idiot!”

I open my mouth to speak, but…

“No, dear, no. She is not worth a single Benjamin a month! Stop paying her.”

“Then she’ll…”

“I will take care of Princess Dystopian Tragic Theater with A Love Triangle. Hmph. Think I haven’t seen all her movies? When I thought Ira was dating her… I… well, never mind. Her ass is grass now. Grass I’m going to smoke.”

“Carolyn, I don’t think…”

“That woman has fucked with my family enough. I don’t care if she’s Ms. Sally Sunshine or the president’s daughter…”

“Carolyn…”

“No, honey, no.” She puts both hands on my shoulders. Now she’s looming in front of me, grinning. “You worry about the idiot of my loins. I’m going to take care of this interloper before she does any more damage to the people I care about.”

Ah, there’s one problem with that…

I’ve already decided what to do about Ira, and nobody’s going to like it much.

Chapter 67

Ira

“What do you mean you want to take a break?”

I lean across the table, attempting to take Kathleen’s hand. She hides it beneath her legs, clasped tightly to her chair.

We’re in a nice restaurant, trying to have dinner after work. Kathleen’s been standoffish all week, but I thought that had to do with her period or something, not… this piece of shit news.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

Finally, Kathleen meets my erratic gaze. “No,” she says with finality. “I didn’t say I was breaking up with you. I said that I would like to take a break for a while.”

I raise my hands, almost smacking a server in the leg. “How long is a while?”

There’s something off about her expression. She’s not being submissive. Or at least not delightfully so. This is insecurity and indecision at its finest.

“I don’t know. A few weeks.”

“A few…” Oh hell no. “What brought this about? Did I do something?”

“No. Look…” Kathleen slams her hand on the table. “Listen to me. I’ve got shit going on in my brain that I don’t know how to deal with. I need to back off what we’ve got going on and take some time to myself.”