"You don't want me here?" he asks, as if the sheer idea I would want to spend time without him hovering over me is unimaginable.
I shake my head so he can see. "I want to be alone and go to bed."
His face hardens and his lips pinch together in agitation. I don't get what he's upset about. I'm the one with an ex-husband trying to steal her daughter and an overflowing toilet. He gets to leave here tonight acting like he did a good thing helping me out today and enjoy his nice normal life leaving me and this mess as a distant memory.
"Fine," he says the word breathily. "Be that way, Josie. I'm here trying to help, but I'm done. You've made it known you don't want me around, so fine. Stay here by yourself."
He stands from the couch, the back of his polo shirt coming untucked from his jeans
