The Baby Blue Bentley {Russell Westbrook}

Chapter XXVII

I continued to sulk in the darkness of the bedroom, sniffling and rubbing my eyes. I was so exhausted. I was patiently waiting for Russell to return from practice, where had been for the past six hours. He made me promise to get up and do something, but I managed to stay in bed for the past six hours, not having any motivation to go anywhere, talk to anyone or do anything. I didn't go to work today, I told my family I had come down with a sickness and I probably wouldn't be there for a few days. Russell also made me promise to stay away from the liquor cabinet, as if I was a little child. I hated being treated like a baby by him. I was grown up, I could take care of myself, even though I knew he was just looking out for me.

I sighed and set my head down against the headboard, shutting my eyes, prepared to rest them just got a few minutes...

"Monica! Baby!" Just when I thought I could get some damn rest. I heard Russell's feet coming up the stairs and into the master bedroom. His face fell when he laid his eyes upon me.

"Do I look that bad?" I asked, somewhat offended.

"You haven't got out of bed like I asked you too," He scolded and I rolled my eyes. "No, Monica, don't fucking do that. Don't roll your damn eyes at me."

"I can do what I want," I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him, as he watched me from the foot of the bed. I knew I was testing my limits with him, but I didn't care. I hated when people parented me. I just wanted to be able to take care of myself for once. "If I want to lay in bed all damn day because I want to feel sorry for myself, I fucking can, okay?"

"No, you aren't capable of doing whatever the hell you want right now, don't give me that sass bullshit!" He yelled, raising his voice and pointed his finger at me. He was really playing the parent role quite well. "I'm your boyfriend and I'm going to take care of you, like I am supposed to do. I don't give a shit if you think I am 'parenting' or 'babying' you. Maybe one day you'll see I am taking care of you. I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I didn't."

"I get it that you are looking out for me, I do," I lowered my voice, to calm him down. "But if I want to call in sick to work, sit in bed all day and eat chocolate, I can if I fucking want too."

"By the way, I stopped by the firm to get your fucking work," He threw the folder at me, landing in my lap with a thud. "You're welcome." I sucked in my breath and instantly felt bad for snapping at him.

"I'm sorry—"

"Save it," He cut me off, shaking his head. He walked towards the bedroom door, leaving me sitting on the comforter.

"Where are you going?" I asked quietly.

"Away from you," He growled, walking out of the bedroom. I didn't say anything else to him. I knew it had to be a true chore dealing with me right now. So I let him go. I heard him start his car and leave the house. I didn't text or call him. I knew he would be home eventually. Maybe. Who knew? It was Russell after all.

I decided to flip through my work. Just the sight of all the papers truly gave me a migraine. I didn't even want to think about work, but this is what I got for leaving all my clients unattended for five days. Not even twenty minutes had passed by before there was a knock at the door. I groaned. I slipped out of the bed, pulling the straps of my cami up to show less cleavage. I padded down the stairs and to the front door. I opened it to see no one other than my mother standing there. I slammed the door in her face almost instantly.

"Monica! Monica Taylor Jones, you better answer this door right now if you know what is good for you!" She screamed, banging on the wooden door. I pressed my back against the door, feeling the vibration as she pounded on it excessively.