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The little shit set up a howl when she wasn’t there and started his shit with me like he’s been doing every day this week.
I checked his bowls to make sure his walker had taken care of him while I was gone and once I verified that all was okay went to change out of the clothes I’d worn the night before.
He followed me all over the apartment giving me disapproving looks, which I ignored. One of them a day is enough for me. I’m not dealing with her shit and his too.
When I started getting tired of my own company and that feeling of wanting to crawl out of my own skin persisted, I knew I needed to do something.
Maybe I’d jumped back into this thing too soon. As usual, she’d called and I’d jumped. As her husband I never saw it as weak.
She was mine to love and protect after all wasn’t she? But now as the man she’d thrown away I didn’t owe her shit.
And wasn’t she the one who’d wanted to fuck in the first place? I’m pretty sure that’s why she’d called me in that first time and I’d walked right into her trap.
I need a break, need to get my head on straight before she snares me with her shit again. I have to stay on top of this shit, have to be the one holding the reins or I’m out.
