Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Bret forgot to inform me of his new house. It wasn't until we came back from getting in some last minute Christmas Eve treats when he told me to turn down a random road that lead to a col de sac of sweet looking bungalows.

Apparently, his dad organised it for him, knowing that him having his independence back will do him the world of good. And, I agree. He seems a lot more open minded, opening up even more than he already did.

I unpack the food out of the shopping bags and onto the kitchen counters. "What time are you picking up Oscar tomorrow?"

Bret opens the fridge door to start stocking it up. "Dinner time. You okay to drive me to Isabella's house?"

The pack of mini marshmallows fall out of my hand and back into the shopping bag.

The ex-wife.

I try my best not to sound worried when I say, "Sure thing."

I pass over the milk and the butter for him to put away, watching him pack it away as neatly as possible when I give over the meat packs too. Bret changes his mind on where to stack the butter and cheese so I get to unpacking the fruits.

I brought an old glass fruit bowl of my mother's for him to use, knowing he's limited on house furniture and accessories. He bought a second hand double bed frame from a swap and sale site on Facebook, getting a new mattress from the local bed shop.

Luckily, the place he bought the mattress from were having a sale on the children's furniture, so he bought a car shaped bed for fifty quid. It's a start to building his home. One where he and his son can spend quality time together.

"Isabella wants to meet you," he turns back to watch me, hand resting on the open fridge door. "That's okay, right?"

Of course, she wants to meet me. I'm a total stranger to her and Oscar, she's bound to be nervous to leave him alone.

"I was expecting to meet her anyway."

Bret smiles. "The only reason she's letting him stay is because Abbey convinced her that you're the next Mother Theresa."

That part tickles me. "Your sister said what?"

"Abbey thinks you're good for me and my son. She wants us all to hang out together."

My fingernails rip into the plastic bag holding the apples to get it open. "Your ex-wife sounds like hard work. I don't know if I want to meet her after all."

"Oh, she's harder than hard work."

"I get the feeling she won't like me."

"She doesn't like anyone," he responds.

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes."

"Fuck."

Bret lets out a long laugh, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter how beautiful a person is, if they're bad on the inside,  it makes them ugly regardless."

"Preach it, baby prince," I respond, nodding my agreement while arranging the apples in a neat pattern around the bananas.

There's a short silence before I lift my gaze to see what Bret is doing with his fridge arrangement. He's doing nothing, staring at me.

"What?"

He looks confused. "Baby prince?"

I shrug. "It's an endearment."

"One that can never happen again," he declares, actually looking weirded out.

"Fair enough," I grab the boxed radio from the carrier bag and rip open the top to pull out the kitchen analogue, and go in search of a socket.