“Not even a little one.”
“You are one cold b—”
“Don’t think you can stand here and call me filthy names on my own doorstep!” she interrupted hotly.
“And some doorstep it is, too!”
“This doorstep is mine, Dennis. What does yours look like?”
“Oh, yeah, rub it in, why don’t you? Money gets dumped in your lap, and I’m living hand-to-mouth. I get that, believe me!”
“Stop it!”
Sierra whirled around to find Tyree in the open doorway, her face contorted, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Stop it!” she screamed again. “Stop fighting! I hate you fighting!”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Sierra began.
At the same moment, Dennis accused, “Now look what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” Sierra exclaimed.
At that, Tyree tore across the porch and ran around the corner.
“Well, that’s just terrific!” Dennis shouted, throwing up his hands.
“Get out of here!” Sierra told him angrily. “I mean it, Dennis. Go!”
Dennis yanked open his car door. “Fine. You’ve ruined the whole day, anyway!” He dropped down behind the wheel and slammed the door. He was mouthing angry words as he drove away, but the window was up and the engine was running, and she didn’t really care to hear it, anyway. She felt physically ill as she swung off the porch and around the house to go in search of her daughter. This was one day that surely couldn’t get any worse.
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