Read Collaborate (Save Me #4) for Free Online Page A

back up on the table. “Sorry, but with or without that piece of paper and a ring, I wouldn’t do anything that would make me lose this girl.”
    “Good answer,” Tuesday says from behind me. “One less person on my bitch list today.”
    We’ve had a lot of ups and downs, a few trust issues and a whole lot of chasing, but the fact that Tuesday didn’t come in and hear the conversation and run away from it shows me how far she’s come.  However, the tone in her voice and the look in her eyes when I turn around to wink at her tells me something is wrong.
    After finishing up with Amy’s touch up, she stands up and eyes Tuesday. Stepping closer to her, Amy twists a strand of Tuesday’s hair around her finger. The look in Tuesday’s eyes lets me know she’s about to flip out but I can’t do anything before Amy opens her mouth and it happens.
    “You’re more than welcome to join in. I’m a more-the-merrier kind of girl and you’re hot.”
    Everything happens so quickly that I can’t stop it. Tuesday smiles, hauls back, and punches Amy directly in the face. She falls to the floor, clutching her mouth and nose. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Sean laugh so hard he can’t breathe which causes me to start laughing as well.
    Amy pushes off the floor, glaring at Tuesday. “Fucking bitch.”
    “Here,” Tuesday says, handing her a paper towel. “You’re dripping whore on the floor.”
    One second Amy is there, the next the door is slamming behind her. Inching forward in my chair, I grab Tuesday’s hand and pull her down into my lap. All the tension that was in her face and body a second ago disappears and she melts into me. Something is wrong, something that wasn’t there this morning when she left the house.
    “I love watching you fight for me, it’s so hot,” I whisper against her skin as I roll us into the office. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
    After she gets through telling me everything that’s gone on today, I’m actually surprised that she didn’t murder Amy, and as much as I love this protective part of her, when she switches direction to get her mind off everything, I don’t stop her. She moves the conversation to plans for the wedding and I listen quietly because I never thought I would be getting here with her.

6
    Jameson
    For the past few hours I’ve sat on this floor, mindlessly wrapping presents for the kids. Place, cut, fold, tape. Those are the only words I want in my head today. At first I succeeded— if I didn’t look around and see the home we’ve built, or the photos when we were all actually happy, I was good. It took one second of looking up for my eyes to latch onto the mantle and all the photos we’ve put up there. It has all been downhill since then.
    Wrapping seemed like a better idea than dealing with my issues. So I skipped going into the office and haven’t bothered to return any of the nine million messages waiting for me on my phone. Every time it rings I check it, hoping it might be Abby and I’m not even sure why.  It never is though, so I don’t answer it.
    I know making her leave last night instead of standing and trying to fix our broken family wasn’t the right thing to do. It was, however, the only thing I could think of doing when I saw Izzy’s face. I didn’t actually expect her to leave. I thought I would find her when I came back downstairs, but I didn’t and that proves where her priorities lie right now.
    How am I supposed to fix my marriage alone? How am I supposed to raise three kids with Abby missing? It’s impossible and every second of time she misses with us makes my heart break even more.
    It’s not just breaking for us, though. It’s breaking for Abby. Every second she misses with the four of us isn’t something she can get back when she decides she wants to be part of our life again.
    I finish wrapping the last non-Santa gift and toss it under the tree just as Izzy shuffles into the room looking as bad as I feel right now.