Chereads / In Love with Romies / Chapter 6 - 6 My Coffee Maker

Chapter 6 - 6 My Coffee Maker

LILY

It was dark by the time I left the campus. Which was fine by me, because any night I could avoid contact with Garrett was always a good one.

At first the breakup really bothered me, and a part of me had been sad. After all, we had history. We shared time. But as the months wore on, it became obvious we couldn't even be in the same room together. Whenever he saw me, Garrett was constantly goading me into a fight.

"When are you leaving?" he'd ask. "Why haven't you found a place yet?"

I wanted to get along with my ex — especially since we lived in the same home — but it was becoming more and more impossible. Luckily, his latest job had him working nights. Being on opposite schedules, we saw each other a lot less often these days.

As I pulled into my driveway, I froze. The lights in the kitchen were on. Living room too.

Damn.

I could still avoid him. If I came in through the side door, I could probably slip into the hallway and make it to my room. Maybe even without him knowing.

Gingerly closing my car door, I quietly entered the house. The first thing that hit me was the smell of coffee. Which was weird, because Garrett never drank coffee. Especially not—

"Hi there."

I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling at the sound of a feminine voice. Carla — I'd seen pictures on Garrett's social media account — was leaning against my kitchen counter, drinking coffee from one of my favorite mugs.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded.

"Sweetie you know who I am," she said coyly. "Don't pretend."

Sweetie?I couldn't believe the audacity of this bitch! My jaw dropped open so wide, I could've swallowed a softball.

"You're one of Garrett's girlfriends," I said, intentionally pluralizing. "I don't even care which one. But what the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Drinking coffee," she shrugged.

"Drinking my coffee. Out of my mug."

She shrugged again, this time with a cocky grin. "Yeah," she chuckled. "I guess I am."

I was ready to clock her. She looked pale and waifish, and on the unhealthier side of skinny. She was also, in my opinion, on the uglier side of the beauty spectrum.

Garrett's lowering his standards, I thought to myself smugly. Either that, or she's batting out of her league.

"Where's Garrett?"

"Here," came a familiar voice.

My ex husband stood in the doorway, shorts, T-shirt, barefoot. Obviously not dressed for work.

"I thought you had a shift tonight," I said.

"No. I don't."

My gaze shifted to Carla again, then back to Garrett. We'd made an agreement, he and I. One in which we wouldn't bring other people around each other. So far I'd seen some evidence of women in my house, but he'd been discreet enough that I'd let it go. I on the other hand, hadn't brought a single guy home.

Not that I had any guys to bring home.

"Whatever," I sighed, still angry. I was more mad about her using my coffee maker than anything else. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Instead of stepping aside so I could go make the hallway, Garrett put his arm up to block my way.

"Li. We need to talk about stuff."

"Don't call me that," I snapped. "And no, we don't need to talk about anything."

I started moving again. He made no motion to get out of the way. Somewhere behind me, I thought I heard his asshole girlfriend chuckle again. Finally I sighed, letting my arms fall to my sides.

"Fine, what?"

"You need to move out."

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the bile threating to rise up in my throat.

"Are we really going to do this here?" I asked. "Right now, in front of your—"

"Fiance'."

The word hung there in the silence of the kitchen, causing my eyebrows to knit together. Carla had said it, and for one or two seconds it was completely foreign to me. Like the word held no meaning.

"What did you say?" I turned to face her.

"Fiance'," she said again, more firmly and snottily than before. She held up one bony hand and wriggled her fingers. I saw a gold ring with a tiny diamond glitter in the overhead fluorescents.

Holy shit…

"Y—You're getting married?" I swore, whirling on Garrett.

"Eventually," he said. "Yes. And Carla's moving in. Right away, in fact. Which is why—"

"Which is why you, honey," she finished for him, "need to get the hellout!"

I wanted to speak. I really did. I wanted to say a thousand things, and all of them terrible.

Most of all I wanted to beat my fists against Garrett's chest, or drive one of them through Carla's homely, pockmarked face. But that wasn't me. I just wasn't that type of girl.

Too bad.

"Listen, I've asked you a bunch of times," Garrett said placatingly. "You always change the subject. You always—"

"That's because it's my house too!" I screamed. "You don't just get it! You don't just—"

"There's no equity," he said. "There's no value. It's just a house, Li. That's all it is. That's all it ever was."

My head spun. My mind screamed at me to do something! But somewhere in my chest, deep down in my heart, a hard truth finally emerged.

He's right.

The anger drained from me. The frustration didn't.

"Fine," I yelled. "You want me out? I'm out."

I took a step toward the door, then stopped short. On a whim I whirled again, grabbed the mug from Carla's hand, and hurled it against the wall.

The both of them cringed as it shattered into a million pieces.

"I'm out," I said again, this time to her. "You can have him. But you don't get my favorite coffee mug."

She looked shocked and surprised. Garrett too. Before either of them could recover, I grabbed the coffee maker, dumped its contents to the floor, and pulled the plug from the wall.

"And you don't get my coffee maker either!"

I stormed out, trying to maintain what was left of my dignity. Only there was no dignity left. I had to give it up a year ago, when I agreed to stay in the house rather than be forced to find another place.

Not anymore, the little voice in my head assured me. Not anymore.

I slammed the door, realized the coffee-maker's cord was stuck in it, then re-opened it and slammed it again. Through the kitchen window, I could see Garrett and Carla watching me. I must've looked like a total psycho.

"You're not getting my coffee maker," I said again, through tear-streaked eyes. "No fu**ing way."