Page 48 of About the Green

Jealousy is not real.

That's just an emotion that comes up naturally because, as I mentioned, sometimes you're just better, and I know I'm better than whoever that bitch is.

Anyways, moving on.

Another pro: He did bandage me up, which meant that he at least felt bad for what I did. Nothing told me that I was in any real danger that I needed to get out of the car like that—besides the tape and you know? Being in a trunk. He could have left me to my own problems but he patched me up. That’s got to be a pro.

Another pro: Found out I'll never have to share my milkshakes with him because he is not a fan of sweets, which honestly should be in the cons list.

Last pro because this list is getting much too long. He’s fine as fuck. I’d never seen him without a shirt before and I didn’t need to know how strong he is. All those delicious tattoos on full display with him pounding into me… Dark eyes and teasing praise spilling from his lips? That’s a convincing argument.

Okay, let's move over to cons.

Cons: He still thinks that I am a murderess, which, in a lot of ways, I am, but I'd like to think of myself more so as a vigilante.

A young hero… heroine?

I'll workshop it.

Also, con. He has a kid, which I haven't met. But hey, I'm not opposed to kids. Kids are cool.

I just can't do that.

I made it through my list just in time for Liezel to show up with my food. "Oh my god. Smells so good.”

My stomach grumbles loudly, and Liezel chuckles. "I knew you hadn't eaten."

"Okay, it would have done that even if I had eaten because you know I love, love the T bone with fluffy mashed potatoes. Is there gravy?” She tips the plate slightly for me to see. “Oh my gosh, there's gravy." I snatch up the plate from her and begin cutting into the meat.

"And you better eat that salad." She drops the smaller plate onto my table, or onto her desk I'm sitting at.

"But I don't want to eat it, and salad is gross."

"You need it to grow big and strong."

I frown at her. “I’m literally five-two. I'm not getting any bigger."

"Okay, you can grow strong in other ways besides height."

"With my tenacious beard?" I question, chuckling and stroking my chin.

She laughs but leaves me to my thoughts. And those… I've got many to sort through.

Chapter 17

Look, I don't particularly love flying.

Actually, I hate airports.

There's far too many people, and far too many small-talk conversations that happen between one place to the next.

How many, “hi, how are you,” can you really give out before people stop expecting you to say them?

I mean, fuck! You know?

I've talked to at least thirty people just to get to my gate. Then I get into the plane, and I have to sit next to somebody else, and they, who have also had to do twenty to thirty of these small-talk conversations wants to do that again? Just because we're sitting next to each other—my fucking god.

But anything that I can do to spend more time with Gracie is what I'm going to do. Marissa had been generous in agreeing to do weekend visitation. Even when I had to have Gracie stay with her for however long it takes me to clear up what's going on in Atlanta. I miss my Gracie all the time, so being back at the airport for more time than I’d like and getting back to Louisiana quicker is what I'm going to have to do. I’ll work it out otherwise as soon as I get to a house I once called home.