“Look mate, let’s cut the crap shall we? I don’t know where she is, I don’t know when she’ll be back and I could really do without you up my arse all night, checking I’m doing my fucking job!” – it came out a little harsher than I’d anticipated, but still he held my gaze.
"She dealt with it, as long as I was in school and he wasn’t hurting me… she was fine...When I was 14 she died, they said it was an overdose, but if you believe that, you’d believe anything, she wouldn’t even take a cold compress for a migraine" A soft chuckle, laced with loss, falls from her lips.
So many questions thunder through my mind, the noise is unbearable. Lost in thought I don’t hear her footsteps. Her arms snake around my waist and feather light kisses spill across my bare shoulders. “Don’t!” I warn.
She stills immediately and retreats to the breakfast bar. “I know you’re angry, I never meant last night to happen. I shouldn’t have come tonight”
But then again, I'm now a single mum to 2 kids, with no job, a fanny like a badly packed kebab and more tyres than fucking Kwik Fit! I may as well have, shit on my top – 'cos he is 6ft 1” of toned, sex on legs and I look like Mr Blobby on Crack!
I don't know why it was getting to me so much, I think it was merely that she'd chosen the cleaning products to start doing it on.... I couldn't help myself, my mouth was opening, the words had formed “Do you mind? It's not the fucking generation game” I grumbled.
“With all this 'COBRA'virus going about, I'm surprised you haven't