Page 60 of Man Flu

“I don’t know,” he groans. “It doesn’t concern you, though.”

“Oh, it doesn’t? Hmm. So, how exactly does it concern you that Logan is upstairs? You obviously felt the need to insert yourself into that topic.”

Rick shudders with laughter. “You’re kidding me, right?”

I grit my teeth and nod. “No, Rick, I’m not kidding you.”

“Do you even know who Logan Grier is?” he asks.

“Yes, he played baseball in the major leagues. I’m sure it’s a big deal to you.”

His laughter grows a little louder, and it’s becoming infuriating. “Let’s try this again. Do you know who Logan Grier was, and still is?”

I’m not playing into this with him. I know what he’s up to now, and Rick Pierce will stop at nothing to win a point or competition. “Yeah, I do. Now drop it.”

“So, you’re okay with that whole … situation?”

I almost ask. Almost, but I refrain. “Sure am.”

“Interesting,” he says with a curious grimace as he scratches at his chin.

“I just thought you wanted something different.”

It’s taking everything I have not to bite the bait. “It’s none of your business.”

Rick holds his hands up in defense. “You’re right.”

“I know,” I argue. Like a child.

“Well, in case you’re just saying you know, but you really don’t, and I sort of have an inkling that you don’t, you might want to watch ESPN Zone on demand and search Logan’s name. Not sure how his whole situation works, but I think it’s safe to assume you don’t know Logan’s whole story, even if you think you do. Let’s just say, Logan is single and good-looking for a reason, Hannah.”

My nausea is slowly returning, with a side of a racing pulse. Shit. What am I getting myself into?

“I know everything, so stop interfering with my life and go get back to yours with your girlfriend who will stick by your side through sickness and in health—oh wait, scratch that first part.” I point to the door. I’ve had it. I don’t care how sick he is. He’s too much to deal with, and he is not my problem anymore.

“Hannah, come on,” he whines. “Can’t I just have some soup first? Tiana can’t cook, and you know soup is the only thing that makes me feel better.”

Wow. There was honestly a time when this childish whining made me feel wanted and needed. I would drive to the ends of the earth to make him feel better when he wanted to act like a man-child. Now, these sounds are like nails on a chalkboard. After the way he’s treated me throughout the last few days, he wants me to make him soup. Unbelievable.

“Your fever must have spiked because you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“Mommy, don’t use God’s name in vain. It’s just soup. I can make it for him.”

In moments like these, I experience an internal battle with myself about why didn’t I know Rick for who he truly was before I married him and had Cora. Then, the other part reminds me I wouldn’t have Cora if it weren’t for this bastard. What the hell is wrong with my bumpy-as-shit life path? It’s like the universe hiccuped when it was creating a line for me to follow.

“Cora, go to your room, please.”

“But Daddy said he needs me.”

“Daddy needs to grow a pair—never mind, go upstairs right now. It’s not up for debate.”

“Daddy needs to grow a pair—” Rick laughs. “You’re funny, Han.”

“Get out of my house, now.”

“Just one cup of soup?” He places his hands together and pleads silently.

“Go call your girlfriend, from your house, and tell her you want some goddamn soup. I’m not your wife. I’m not your anything, and don’t mistake me for someone who wants to ever fill that role again.”