Becca.
I stormed past Layla and the kids, going to my room. Neal was right, I was lucky we had packed everything. I might have thrown things, otherwise.
The door to the bedroom opened, however, before I could lock it.
“Becca,” James said in a warning tone, “we really don’t have time for this.”
“We’re going to make time,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest. “I can’t believe you’d just show up here, thinking I’d f*cking prance away with you like some mindless bimbo.”
James took a deep breath. “I don’t think you’re a mindless bimbo. But I do think you’re rather stupidly fighting with me right now when you should be getting yourself and the children out of danger. You want to scream at me? Hit me? Accuse me of God knows what? F*cking fine, Becca, but do it on the jet.”
