Run-ins and Interviews
"Bella? I'm going to take a nap," I called out.
No response.
"Bella?"
I checked on the kids. They were happily watching some cartoon in the family room. I went to search for my wife. I heard voices in the garage. My hackles went up and I went outside. In our garage, Bella was glaring at an older woman with heavily highlighted hair, caked on makeup and clothes that were highly inappropriate for someone of her age.
"Mother, you are not welcome here," Bella snarled. "I haven't spoken with you since my wedding with Mike because you made a fool out of me. Out of you. Out of our entire family. Please leave."
"Now, Isabella. Is that the way you're going to talk to you mother?" she asked.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but my wife asked you to leave. Please do so before I call the police," I said, glaring at Bella's mother.
"Aren't you yummy?" she said as she licked her lips. "It's a shame that such a virile man is wasted on my plain little girl."
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