“I have to get the boys early,” she repeated. “I’ll be waiting in the car. Tell them to hurry.”

“Olivia, you don’t get them until five,” Brock stated.

Already tense at the knowledge my mind was refusing to believe, that Brock’s ex was at the door sounding like the bitch I suspected she was from what I’d learned from Brock (and Fern and Laura and Jill), I went tenser when this was irrevocably confirmed. It was then I noticed both the boys were frozen to the point of looking calcified on their stools.

“I know that, Slim, but today I need to pick them up early,” she retorted.

“You need to pick them up early, you tell me you need to pick them up early. We discuss it and make plans. You don’t show at my fuckin’ door and tell me to get them packed.”

“Oh for God’s sake!” she snapped. “It isn’t a big deal. Why do you make everything a big deal? It’s only two hours. Just get them to get their shit packed and I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Woman, I get four days a month with my boys, two hours shaved off that is a big deal,” Brock returned on a dangerous rumble.

“There you go, making it a big deal,” she shot back.

“They haven’t eaten,” Brock told her.

“Dade will take them out to get some burgers or something later,” she replied.

“No, Dade won’t. We got plans. You’ll come back in two hours or I’ll drop them at your house at five or whatever the fuck time you’ll be home to look after your sons.”

“You can do whatever you have planned next time you see them. I’m here now, I went out of my way to come and get them, and I don’t have time to discuss this.”

“You went out of your way to come and get your boys?” Brock asked, his dangerous rumble getting more dangerous.

“Jesus, Slim, just tell them to get packed.”

“All right, you are not hearing me and you need to listen. We have plans. The cake’s baked and the boys are lookin’ forward to it. They’re gonna eat it and they’ll go back when it’s time for them to go back.”

“The cake’s baked?”

Uh-oh.

Brock didn’t answer that question. Instead, he ordered, “Go, I’ll bring the boys to your place at seven.”

“What cake’s baked?” she asked. “You baked a cake?” This was incredulous.

Apparently, Rex nor Joel had shared about me.

I looked back at the boys at the same time their heads in unison slowly turned to me.

They looked terrified.

Oh man.

“Olivia, Christ, step back,” Brock growled.

Oh man!

“What cake, Slim?” she asked, her voice rising as well as getting closer, then on a shout, “What cake?”