Why was he banging and not using the bell?

“I need to go get that,” I said to Robin, slipping off the stool and putting my glass down.

“You so do,” she agreed.

“I’ll call you soon.”

“You better, and just saying, you ever try to blow me off again without telling me what’s on your mind, you won’t win me back so easy.”

I absolutely knew that to be true.

I moved to the door quickly and said, “I wish I could tell you how happy I am you made this time easy, but Mickey’s here.”

“Hot guy at your door. Every woman knows that takes precedence over pretty much everything. But I’ll expect a report. Soon,” she told me.

I unlocked the door saying, “You’ll get it. ’Bye, honey.”

“’Bye, sweetie.”

We disconnected as I opened the door and looked up.

My “hey” froze on my lips at the look on Mickey’s face.

Oh no, what did Rhiannon do now?

I moved back when he pushed in but I closed the door and turned to him to see he’d stopped four feet away and was facing me.

“Everything okay?” I asked tentatively.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, for some reason sarcastically. “My son is all good now, seein’ as he’s got an Xbox and about five hundred fuckin’ dollars’ worth of paintball shit.”

I stared at him, mystified as to why this was what it was obvious he thought was a bad thing.

“Is that bad?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

“Fuck no,” he answered, crossing his arms on his chest. “It isn’t, seein’ as it reminded me why this shit isn’t going to work.”

On his “this shit” he threw a hand my way and then crossed it back on his chest.

And when he did that, my insides squeezed.

“This…shit?” I queried, sounding out of breathe because I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

His big body shifted, like he was settling in, and he asked, “You know how much of a hit my parents took sellin’ that house to Rhiannon and me?”

My head twitched in confusion at this odd question. “No.”

“Seven hundred K and I still paid two hundred grand more than I could afford, and now that’s a whole lot more than I could afford, gettin’ shot of Rhiannon, who was not much but at least the bitch made a decent paycheck.”

“Mickey—”

“And we don’t have coastal property,” he spoke over me. “That road I cross to get to your house, you know it, babe, is like crossin’ tracks from houses that cost a whack to houses that cost fuckin’ five million dollars and you got a deal because those assholes that lived here before you fucked themselves.”

“I’m not certain why we’re talking about this,” I noted hesitantly.

“You don’t buy my kids, Amelia,” he stated bluntly.