Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

That damn clock my ex gave me that hangs over the kitchen sink echoes in the 2am silence. I don’t know why I kept it. I pretty much just put it up and never took it down. I didn’t care. I almost don’t care now. If I didn’t have to get a step ladder out to get it down because I’m so short, I’d destroy it now. A hammer would take care of that second hand. A hammer would’ve taken care of my ex too.

I shake my head as if the motion will shake the thought out of my head. I drink the last slurp of my chamomile tea, hoping that it’s effects will kick in at some point before I have to get up to go to work in the morning. I have four and a half hours before my alarm goes off. Why did I calculate that out?

I stand up, set my jade green ceramic cup my mom gave me for my birthday onto the counter next to the sink, glare up at the clock and flip it off. It’s dumb but it felt good. I wrap my thin, cotton robe around me tighter, as if that’s really going to warm me up, and scuffle across the gold 70’s linoleum toward my bedroom. I pass the bathroom and just as I’m about to walk into my bedroom, I feel the tea working its way through. If I don’t go to the bathroom now, it’ll keep me awake even longer.

Once I’m done and back on my way to the bedroom, my little cavapoo nudges the back of my calf with her nose. She does it just to remind me that she’s there. My ex and I got Squeaker when we were still together. But like a lot of the stuff still in the house, he left her behind too. A dog was too much to take care of when all he wanted to do was travel the world with his new sugar momma. Oh, but wait, his sugar momma is the owner of the company I work for. Now isn’t that just great? So, while most people who don’t share anything with their ex gets to part ways and never see them again, I still get to see Mike at the company holiday parties. Which, by the way, are mandatory attendance. Granted, we all get our year-end bonuses at the party if we show up. If we don’t show up, we get written up on Monday for not being a team player. Such bullshit.

Squeaker runs up her little stairs at the end of my bed and is pulling on the sleeve of my robe in no time. I let her take the robe off and she shakes it fiercely like it’s a wild animal. Wadding it up into a pile at the foot of the bed, she curls up and looks like she immediately falls asleep. Lucky.

I slide my feet under the fluffy down comforter that Mike insisted we get and pull it all the way up to my chin. I reach out one arm to quickly flick off the lamp that is glowing in my smallish bedroom. It takes a moment but soon my eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s a full moon outside, and for some dumb reason, I thought it would be nice to sleep with only the sheer curtains closed. Then I could blissfully wake up to the sunrise. Now I’m too lazy to get out of bed to actually pull the blinds shut behind them, and there will be nothing blissful about the sunrise.

I stare at the moonlight on the wall, watch some headlights bounce across the walls of my bedroom, and slowly feel my eyelids getting heavy. My breathing settles into a nice deep rhythm and just as I start to dream, Squeaker paws at my face. “Ugh, Squeaker!” I open my eyes to see her fluffy face staring at me and then glancing at the door. She begins to pace on the bed, always keeping an eye on the doorway, when I hear something clatter in the other room.

“Oh my gosh,” I whisper breathlessly as I whip to a sitting position, brushing the hair out of my face. Squeaker lays down at my feet and whimpers. She’s definitely not a guard dog, although she did wake me up when she heard someone in the house.

I flip the covers back as quietly as I can, slide out of bed and grab the baseball bat that I keep next to my nightstand. I used to have a gun but a long, drawn-out battle with depression and a moment of clarity, made me give it to my best friend for safe keeping. I kind of wish I had it right about now.

I grip the bat, trying to find the best way to hold it, when another bang comes from the kitchen. It sounded like a chair fell over. What is this intruder doing? Are they drunk and stumbling around?

Tiptoeing around the corner of my room and entering the hallway, I hear a grunt, followed by, “Damn it!”

That voice, its familiar.

I peek inside the bathroom and, once I find it’s empty, I keep going down the hall. The kitchen light is on. Now what intruder would turn on a light?

Squeaker nudges the back of my calf, and as I look at her, she looks past me and starts wagging her tail. She races past me, past my failed attempt to grab her, and straight towards the tall male in my kitchen.

“No!”

“Hey! Squeaker! C’mere you little fluffball!” The man turns around to bend down and pick her up, and just as the kitchen light hits the side of his face, I see him.

My ex.

I also see that it’s 4am on his damn clock.

“What are you doing here at this hour? You scared me half to death!” I tap the bat on the floor to remind him that I do have the means to beat him.

“Whoa!” Mike sets Squeaker on the floor and raises his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I just got back from Thailand. I thought it was closer to when you would be getting up.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have the right to come in here. You don’t live here anymore, remember?” I walk over to the kitchen table, lean the bat against the wall and sit down. “Seriously, why are you here?” Just when I had gotten to sleep too. I lean my head on my hand as my elbow slides across the top of the table. I’m going to have some serious black bags under my eyes tomorrow. Just what my boss needs to see.

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“I came to tell you the good news. I’m sorry it’s a bad time. And I know that we aren’t that close anymore, but I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. Ya know, from work.”

“What are you talking about?” The chamomile did a great job, and my head is still swimming with sleepiness. I’ll have to remember to do that tomorrow night. I mean, tonight. Ah crap.

“Viv and I, we’re getting married.” Mike waits as the gravity of what he says seeps into my sleep-deprived brain. “I asked her in Thailand.”

I take in a deep breath and breathe it out slowly. “Did she have to buy her own engagement ring?” I know, it was a jab at him, but what did he expect?

Mike pulls out a chair and sits down at the table across from me. “Effi, c’mon. You know I’m in between jobs right now, but that shouldn’t stop us from getting married.”

“You have a real gift of being in between a lot of things. Jobs, girls, drinks. No, ya know what, that’s great. I’m glad you finally have someone who can pay for you. Now if you don’t mind, please give me back the key to my house and escort yourself out.” I slide the chair back and stand up. I stretch out my hand and look at him expectantly.

He pushes back from the table, stands up, scoots the chair back in and reaches into the front pocket of his jeans. Those jeans still look good on him. That’s what got me in trouble with him in the first place. I’m just glad we never had kids. It’s bad enough that he thinks he can share his good news with me. He slowly takes out a ring of keys and takes forever sliding my key off the ring. Way too long. The light from the kitchen makes the lines on his face look even more chiseled than normal. Thailand agreed with him. Honestly, being pampered would agree with anyone, but his skin has a golden glow that looks dewy in this light. His hair has grown out since I saw him last. The dark brown curls that he usually cuts off are becoming waves as they sweep over his ears and down his neck, past the sexy stubble on his chin.

Nope. Not going there.

“C’mon. I need to go back to bed so I can work for your fiancé in a couple of hours.”

The key finally makes the last loop around the ring and slips off. “Here ya go.” He hands it back to me and my fingers graze his as I take it. A shock of electricity zips through my hand, warming parts of me that I wish would just lay dormant for right now.

“Great. Thanks. Now, please,” I say as I motion towards the door. Squeaker is standing up on her hind legs, placing her front paws on his thighs.

“Aw Squeaks, I can’t take you with me. You gotta stay here and take care of your momma.” He reaches down and ruffles the furs on the top of her head. She must realize what he’s saying because she sits down and waits for him to leave. Even she knows that he doesn’t stick around here. “Okay, okay. Effi, it was good to see you.” He takes a step toward me and stretches out his arms as though he’s going to hug me.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Time to go. I’m in no mood. Plus, Viv probably wouldn’t like it if she found out that you broke into your ex’s house and then hugged me.”

He takes a step back and lowers his arms. “Viv knows that you’re a part of my life, Ef.”

I walk over to him, grab the sleeve to his black jean jacket, spin him around so that he’s going in the direction of the living room, and start pushing him toward the front door. He leans back as though he doesn’t want to go but at this hour, it’s either he leaves or I’m going to get the bat.

“Mike, when I signed the divorce papers, that was my way of saying that I don’t want you to be a part of my life. If you’re dumb enough to think that just because you’re dating my boss, that we’re now friends, you’re insane. No, you’re worse than insane. You are the dumbest man alive.”

Mike stops leaning against my hands and whirls around to face me. He’s literally two feet from the door. So close.

“Ef, you know I didn’t want that divorce. You were my everything.” He stretches out his arms again as though I’m just going to accept a hug now. Idiot.

“Mike, I wanted the divorce because you were a drunk cheater who spent all my money. ALL of it! If you don’t leave, I am going to get that bat and beat you out the door.”

“You don’t have to be so huffy!” He straightens his jacket and tries to take a step closer to me, away from the door.

“GET OUT!” I push him, knocking him off balance. He reaches to grab onto the wall but misses, falling into the corner of the closet, bumping his head against the trim.

When he stands back up, I can see a small dribble of blood making its way down the side of his eyebrow.

Shit.

There was another reason why I divorced him.

Mike glares at me, his eyes dilate so that all I can see is black. Pure rage. I’ve seen this before, but I don’t have enough time to react before his hand hits the side of my face, flinging me against the wall. I crumple at the bottom, and glance over to his feet. Where his feet are pointed, that’s where he’s going. It’s funny the things you learn when you’re in an abusive relationship.

His feet are pointed away from me. Dumb idiot. I scramble back to my feet and race to the kitchen before he even realizes I’m not still on the floor.

I grab the bat and turn back around to face him. “Hey Mikey.” I drag the bat behind me on the floor. Squeaker is hiding in the corner. She may have been a puppy when we got her, but she also learned not to be around when Mike got mad.

Mike turns back around to face me, wiping the blood from his brow. “Oh, do you think you can hurt me with that little bat? That bat is the size kids use for little league.”

I swing the bat up so that it’s resting on my shoulder. The adrenaline races through my blood. I’ve dreamt of this moment. “I swore that I would never let you, or any man, hit me again.”

Mike takes another step away from the door. I stop so that I’m a couple of feet into the living room. There’s more space in here. I know that he can’t stand to have a woman threaten him, so I watch as he walks right up to me. “Poor Viv, she has no idea what kind of monster you really are, does she?”

Mike’s eyes are glaring black holes in his head. “She doesn’t act like this.” He balls up his fists and relaxes them. It’s only a couple more minutes and he’s going to blow.

“Oh, but she will, Mike. Once she watches you drain her bank account. Once she sees you out with another woman. Once she…”

That was all it took.

Mike balls up his fist, cocks his arm back, but before he has a chance to swing at me, I whip the bat right at his head.

CRACK!

His jaw goes slack, his cheeks jiggle like Jell-O, and his eyes roll back in his head as the bat hits him square in his temple. He falls to the floor like a tower of blocks. His legs crumple beneath him, his back and head slamming onto my beige carpet.

I watch to see if he’s going to get up, but he doesn’t move. I’ve watched too many scary movies to bend over to see if he’s breathing. The bruise on my face will be enough to claim self-defense. I kick his leg, but it just rolls like someone who’s unconscious.

As much as I want to tie him up so that he can’t sneak up on me while I’m getting ready for work, I also don’t want to get that close to him in case he’s just waiting to pounce on me. I swing the bat up over my shoulder once again, scoop Squeaker up in my free arm, and then yell back to Mike laying on the floor, “My little league bat is all wood, Mikey.”