CHAPTER 17

“Chris, exactly what did my mother say? Word for word.” Dianna was now dressed in jeans and a blue V-necked Victoria’s Secret T-shirt. Also wearing dark, dark sunglasses against the spring evening’s lowering yet very bright sunlight, she sat seat-belted in the front passenger’s seat of Chris’s big killer Beemer. And they were on their way to the hospital. It was like being in a space capsule or something. Not one outside sound penetrated the interior. Or vice versa, which was a good thing because rush-hour traffic made Dianna cuss.

And right now, rush-hour traffic was all but standing still. In fact, snails … escargots, should any of them chance to be French … were whizzing past. Or so it seemed. “Can’t we go any faster? Go around those people, Chris. You have a BMW, for God’s sake. Drive like it, man.”

Without taking his eyes off the road, Chris reached over and gently, reassuringly, squeezed Dianna’s hand. “Hey, calm down. It’s okay. You’re not the one having the baby. Karen is, and she’s already at the hospital.”

“I know, but this is so scary and so exciting. Tommy is probably scared to death. God, Chris, I am going to be an aunt. Hurry! Pass that nine-thousand-year-old man in that Dodge. I think he’s dead at the wheel or something. He’s going about three damn miles per hour.”

“Dianna,” Chris said, still maddeningly calm, “pretend I’m Greyhound, okay, and leave the driving to me. You might not realize it, but we’re going sixty-five right now. And I think I’m beginning to understand that ticket you got yesterday.”

“You’re paying for that.”

“I said I would.” He withdrew his hand from hers and put it back on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

“And that’s another thing. Why are you so calm, dammit? I find that to be a very annoying trait right now, Chris. I really do. My sister-in-law is going to have a baby, and I need to get there.”

“And we will, but safely.”

She very hotly crossed her arms. “You sound like some highway patrolman or somebody’s grandpa.”

His eyes hidden behind those silvered sunglasses of his, Chris spared her a glance. His mouth was unsmiling. “Speaking of annoying traits, Dianna…” He left it unfinished.

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry. But I think you don’t want to get there fast because you think my brothers—no, my whole family—is going to kill you when they see this black eye, don’t you?”

“And there’s another annoying habit. Predicting my violent death. Wow. Two annoying habits revealed in as many minutes.”

“Three if you count cussing and yelling while driving or even riding in heavy traffic.”

“Three it is, then. By the way, you’re never driving our children anywhere.”

“We’re not going to have any.”

“You don’t want to have children?”

“Yes, I want to have children.”

“Just not with me?”

Whimpering, Dianna leaned her forehead against Chris’s muscled bicep. “I can’t do this right now, Chris, okay?”

He gave her leg an affectionate squeeze. “All right. Sorry. Bad timing. So, I was going to say I’ve never seen this side of you before, but then I realized that’s not true because I’ve seen all sides of you, having seen you naked—Ouch.” She’d sat up and hit his arm. “Don’t hit the driver, ma’am. Very dangerous.”

“Anyway, which side of me haven’t you seen before? And we’d better be talking personality here.”

“We are. The side where you yell and cuss and hit and insult. Is that from having older brothers?”

“Yes. And I’ll be sure to tell them you said so.”

“Great. At least we’ll be at a hospital. That’s got to be a good place to be if you’re going to get your ass kicked.”

“Ha-ha. And, anyway, thanks for thinking I’m obnoxious and bossy.”

A grin creased the corners of Chris’s mouth. “Your words. Not mine. But maybe those reasons are why you’re not married yet.”

She hit his arm again.

“Did we not just talk about hitting the driver? I’d hate to have to pull over and put you out at the side of the road.” He turned a full smile on her now. “And I will not refund the cost of your ticket, lady.”

Grinning now, too, and fearing she was totally smitten with this guy—no, knowing she was—and knowing she was behaving badly and Chris was exhibiting the patience of a saint with her, Dianna again apologized. “Sorry. But what did my mother say? You never told me. I mean, when you answered the phone.”

“‘Who is this?’”

“What?” Dianna looked all around. “Who’s who?”

Chris laughed. “You sound like an owl. I was just repeating for you what your mother said. She said, ‘Who is this?’”

“Oh, I get it. Sorry. But she said it like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Ooh, Chris, look!” She grabbed his shirtsleeve. “That other lane’s open now, and it’s moving faster. Go, go, go.”

Using his turn signal, Chris went, went, went, smoothly moving his muscle machine into the next lane’s flow of traffic. “Happy now?”

“Yes.” Dianna let go of him and slumped back against her leather seatback. “What else did she say?”

“Well, first I said I was me. Or Chris Adams. For some reason, that seemed to satisfy her. Have you told her about me?”

“No.”

“My feelings aren’t hurt.” He was so droll.

“Oh, come on, there was nothing to tell until last night.” Dianna’s tone of voice was a plea for understanding. “But I don’t even want to tell her now.”

“Again, my feelings are not hurt.”

“Chris. Look at me.” Dianna pulled her sunglasses off and pointed to her shiner.

He glanced over at her. “All right, point taken. So then she said, ‘Where’s Dianna? I called her work and they said she went home sick.’ Not wanting to get into that with her since I didn’t know yet what you had or hadn’t told her about last night and us, I went with a literal answer and simply said you were on the pot.”

Dianna grabbed his arm and squeezed hard. “Do not ever say ‘pot’ to my mother in the same sentence as my name.”

“Yeah, I found that out. College?”

“Undergraduate. It was the biggest mess. Anyway…?”

“Anyway, she said that I was to tell you that Karen’s water broke.”

“Well, you had to love that, and on an empty stomach. You poor man.”

“I thought at first it might be some kind of code.”

“It is. It means ‘baby on the way.’”

“I found that out, too. Then she said—all in one breath; let me see if I can do it—to tell you that she didn’t think you were all that sick … though how she could know that, I don’t know … and then she said I was to tell you to hurry and get to the hospital and no, wait, on second thought, what was I doing that was so important anyway and I was to drive you so she could be sure you would arrive alive.”

Dianna’s grin was sickly. “She’s ridden with me before.”

“As a sort of punishment?”

“Yes. She was mad at my father this one time and wouldn’t ride with him, and she won’t drive herself—”

“My mother, either.”

“A pain in the ass, no? Anyway, by the time she got there, her blood pressure was way up and she had to be put on medicine and she blames me for giving her hypertension. So every time she refills her medicine, whatever Medicare doesn’t pay, she sends me a bill for the amount.”

“That’s one tough woman. We have to make certain, Dianna, that she never meets my mother. If they get together and start comparing notes, do you realize what could happen?”

“I shudder to think.”

“Exactly. So what I don’t get in all this is why your mother didn’t even question who I was and what I was doing at your place and answering the phone. For all she knew, I could have been a burglar or some—”

“Be glad you didn’t have that conversation. I know my mother. She’d say you couldn’t be a burglar because you’d already given her your name and a burglar wouldn’t do that. Or even answer the phone. Ta-da.” Dianna sat back smugly, happily crossing her arms and wiggling her sandaled feet.

Chris laughed. “You must be feeling better, Dianna. You’re awfully talkative now and pretty animated. That Advil help?”

“Sure. But not as much as the Percodan I took when I was in the bathroom.”

The BMW swerved and Chris yelled. “What the hell? You took Percodan? What are you doing taking Percodan? How many?”

“One. Calm down, Chris. It’s legal. And I’m not driving, and I haven’t been drinking. It’s my prescription I got when I had my appendectomy two years ago.”

“Two years ago? You took old Percodan?”

“What are you—my pharmacist? It’s not expired by much. And I really do feel better.” She grinned at him.

“Oh, this is rich. I show up, a stranger, at the hospital with you for a blessed event. And you’re stoned and have a black eye. Your family is going to love me.”

“Good,” Dianna giggled, leaning over to hold on to his arm and rest her head against him. “Because I sure do.”

*   *   *

Fourth floor of the hospital. Maternity ward. Looked like stepping into a Mother Goose book with all the appliquéd lambs and flowers and little babies that decorated the walls. That was supposed to be soothing, right? Well, it wasn’t. In fact, the very notion that he was in the alien environment of a birthing center gave Chris emotional hives. He could only imagine the fear a man would go through knowing his wife was in the throes of giving birth and he was about to be a father. Scary and exciting stuff.

“Now, who are you again?”

Obviously, he wasn’t as invisible as he’d tried to make himself by merely being quiet. Chris closed the Modern Maternity magazine he’d been idly turning the pages of—who knew that maternity clothes were now so stylish?—and smiled at Dianna’s mother, who sat next to him. “I’m Chris Adams, Mrs. West. We spoke on the phone.”

“I know that. I’m not senile.”

“No, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I want to know what you are to my daughter.”

Now, there was a tricky question. “Right now, I’m her … friend. And her chauffeur.”

“Right now?”

“Well, we could be working together soon, too. Computers.” And that was as far as he was going with this gray-haired, apple-cheeked little woman who eyed him as if he’d sprung up in a musty patch of dank earth in some swamp somewhere.

“Oh, computers, you say?” This came from Dianna’s father—the man who liked to blow things up, as Chris recalled. The harmless-looking old guy peeked around his wife and smiled at Chris. “Hate the things, myself. Just a lot of noise and trouble. Nothing good about them at all.”

Chris just smiled and smiled. “Yes, sir. A lot of people think that.”

“You know, when televisions came along, nobody thought much of them, either. Thought they were just a passing fancy. Telephones, too, And automobiles. Airplanes, the same thing.”

So that pretty much put them back at the turn of the twentieth century. Still smiling, though it now hurt, Chris simply nodded his head, fearing that Mr. West was going to discount every invention all the way back to the wheel. “So, Mr. West,” he said brightly, looking past Mrs. West and acutely aware of her continuing close scrutiny of every pore in his face. “How do you feel about becoming a grandfather?”

“Oh, fine. Good. Good. Karen’s a strong girl, ought to be fine. You know, back in my day, women just dropped the babies and went back to work in the fields the same day.”

And that got him his wife’s attention—much to Chris’s heated relief. “I never worked in a field a day in my life. And all three of your children were born in hospitals, Mel. What’s wrong with you?”

“Joy, I was just telling the boy about how things were—”

“Well, no one gives a hoot. He can read a history book if he wants to know about—”

“Mom, Dad? Not now, okay?” This was Edward, a tall, lanky guy who eyed Chris with a distressing solemnity and who sat across from him and the older Wests, next to his wife, a pretty redhead named Vera. She sat stiff and excited on the lime-green vinyl seats, her eyes bright with expectancy. Edward was holding her hand tightly. Chris suspected he did so to keep her from yet again flitting down the hall to the nurses’ station to see how her sister-in-law was doing. Though Edward’s remarks were directed to his parents, his gaze bored into Chris. “We wouldn’t want to give Chris here the wrong impression about our family.”

“Chris here” wondered if he should make for an exit. I didn’t hit her, he wanted to say to Dianna’s brother. But he wisely didn’t. Instead, he forced a smile and did say, “No problem.” … Whatever the hell that meant in this context.

Yes, they’d seen Dianna and her eye. And yes, they weren’t happy with him or her or the official “I walked into a wall” story. And no, they weren’t happy to meet him. And yes, they were doing nothing to hide that fact. Could this be more awkward? Well, yes, it could be, because it was: Dianna was currently not present to lend moral support. She’d gone off with Tommy—the expectant father/cop brother who, blessedly, was in surgery scrubs and so did not have his gun with him—to see Karen in the labor room. Only two family members at a time could go back.

In a sweat, Chris didn’t know if he wished that the elder Wests would go next, or if the Edward Wests would go. All he knew was he wanted Dianna to come back—and now.

“So, Chris, what do you do for a living?” Edward West asked, leaving off the implied besides beating up on women.

Sliding a glance the way of the senior Mr. West, Chris said, “Computers. I work with computers.”

“In what capacity?”

God, how he hated accountants. “Global consulting on new technology. That sort of thing.”

“That pay much?” This was Mr. Mel West, the elder statesman of Dianna’s family. He still peered around his wife, who had renewed her consideration of every one of Chris’s facial features.

Chris managed a bleak smile for Dianna’s parents. “Uh, yes, sir, it can.”

Mr. West did not think much of that. “Need to get yourself a real job, son. You go to college?”

“No.”

“Should get yourself an education and make something of yourself. How old are you now?”

Okay, this was going well. “I’m twenty-eight, sir.”

Mr. West nodded. “Not too late. A good technical college, something like that. Take some classes. Get ahead.”

“Uh, yes, sir, I’ll take that under consideration.”

“Well, see that you do. You know, my daughter has a master’s degree. And Edward here is a CPA. And Tommy has a degree in criminology. Could have gone with the FBI, if he’d wanted to.”

Chris smiled. “I’m sure you’re very proud of them all.”

Just then, Dianna came around the corner, grinning stupidly. “Hi, everybody. Karen’s … somewhere. What are you all doing here?”

A thrill of joy leaped through Chris. Had he been eight years old, he knew, he would have burst into relieved tears and run to her, throwing his arms around her waist and begging her never to leave him alone again with her family. But since he was the stated twenty-eight years of age, all he did was stand, as did her parents and brother and sister-in-law, and smile. And stare.

And that was when Tommy—crew-cut, muscled, shorter than his brother, Edward, and his face hot with anger—came around the corner right behind Dianna and grabbed his sister’s arm. “Dianna, wait a minute.” He held her at his side and sighted on Chris. “What the hell’s wrong with my sister?”

Alarm flitted through Chris. He swept his gaze over the policeman’s muscled person … still looking for that gun. “Nothing. I think she’s perfect.”

“Bullshit. She’s loopy as hell is what she is. Look at her.”

Everyone did. Tommy was right. She looked loopy as hell. “She took a Percodan.”

“Oh, my God in heaven,” cried Dianna’s mother. “She’s allergic to that. It makes her hallucinate. She got some when she had her appendix removed. I told her to throw that stuff out.”

Tommy’s expression became that of a rabid bulldog. “You gave my sister drugs?”

Enough. Game over. Chris got pissed and lost it. “Hell no, I did not give your sister drugs. Only Advil. Two of them. But then she took the Percodan in the privacy of her own bathroom and from an old prescription of hers. I didn’t even know she had done that until we were halfway here. And, while we’re on the subject, I did not hit her and I have never in my life hit any woman. So everybody can just knock that shit off right now, okay? And no, I don’t need to go to college or a technical school because I was a multimillionaire before I was twenty-five because of an invention of mine that Bill Gates bought. And I live in a penthouse and drive a BMW. And what’s more, I’m a really nice guy who comes from a nice family, I’m a regular-guy sports fan, and I give a lot of money to charity and I support my mother—and, dammit, I just happen to be in love with your daughter.” He took a breath. “Or sister, as the case may be.” Feeling way too hot, Chris sighted on Vera the redhead. “Sister-in-law, in your case.”

After taking a breath, Chris once again addressed the astonished, staring assemblage of Dianna’s immediate family here for a joyous occasion that had nothing to do with him. “Any questions?”

And there were. There were many of them. From all quarters.

“Bill Gates? You know Bill Gates?” Mel West.

“You’re a millionaire?” Joy West.

“If you’re all that great, how come I’ve never heard of you?” Edward.

“You’re in love with Dianna?” Vera.

“So, what did happen to her eye?” Tommy.

Chris stood there blinking and thinking, Can of worms, for some reason. In his mind’s eye, he saw fat worms wriggling out of this huge tin can—

“I think maybe I’d better get something to eat.” And that was Dianna.

*   *   *

So, of course, that put Chris, his expression grim, in the hospital’s basement cafeteria with a grinning, hallucinating Dianna in tow. Bombarding his senses were the commingled scents of the food and of industrial-strength cleaners and the steamy humidity of the hot-water warmers under the metal trays of the selections. Chris could only imagine how all of this was affecting Dianna’s already addled senses. The setup of the place was confusing even for someone like himself who wasn’t drugged out. Holding on to Dianna’s arm so she didn’t float off like a helium balloon, Chris stood back and looked around to get his bearings. A huge stack of trays here. Two lines. One for hot food. One for soups, salads, and sandwiches.

Everything smelled pretty good. Chris’s stomach growled to prove it. Okay, drinks and condiments were nowhere to be seen. A huge salad bar ran down the middle of the aisle. Two cash registers at the end of it. Medical types dressed in all colors of surgical garb, some with lab coats and beepers, swirled by Chris and Dianna. Obviously familiar with the setup and in a hurry, they offered only a cursory “Excuse me” as they rushed around.

Damn. It was like high tide and he and Dianna were trapped in a fierce whirlpool. “So, what do you want to eat, Dianna?”

“Coffee.”

“Which is not a food. And … no, you’re awake enough as it is. Let’s not add caffeine to the mix, okay?”

She grinned up at him. “You’re very handsome, you know.”

She’d made him grin. Chris exhaled. She might be hallucinating, but she was still cute as hell and saying everything he wanted to hear. Too bad it didn’t count since she probably would not remember any of this. “Thank you. But let’s get you something hot to eat, okay? Some protein and carbs.”

Dianna wrinkled her nose at that. “Sounds fattening.”

“You hardly need to worry about that.”

“Good. Then I want chicken and dumplings.”

Chris blinked. What were the odds of there being chicken and dumplings here tonight? Then he realized Dianna was reading the posted menu for the day on a big dry-mark board. And, sure enough, right there was listed chicken and dumplings. Thank you, Jesus.

“All right, come on, let’s wade in.” Chris gently shook an admonitory finger at her. “You stay with me, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll stay with you always.”

This was torture. “Good. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Look at that fountain. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Fountain. Fountain. Chris looked around. Found it. On the wall. A mural of an outdoor scene of what looked like Greek ruins. In the foreground was a fountain. “Yeah. Nice. Come on, let’s get some food into you. You’ll feel better.”

She frowned up at him. “I feel fine now.”

“Of course you do. You’re high.” With that, he grabbed a tray, set it on the metal rails that ran the length of the hot food selections, got two sets of napkin-wrapped silverware, and ordered their meals. Got the drinks—finally found those on the other side of the salad bar—and paid the nice, elderly black lady at the register. That done, and balancing a full, unwieldly tray in one hand while holding on to Dianna with his other, Chris guided them safely to a table way in the back of the crowded room by a wall of windows that looked out onto the pleasing scene of a bricked courtyard planted with flowers and having a gurgling-stream effect.

More than one table of medical employees stopped eating and stared at Dianna’s black eye and then at Chris as they passed by. Only by gritting his teeth and refusing to make eye contact had he resisted the urge to say that her eye was not his fault. And yet, obliquely, it was. How well he knew that and how well he knew that the gnawing in his stomach was as much from guilt as it was from hunger and worrying about Dianna.

Damn. It was a good thing for Ronnie that she wasn’t here because Chris couldn’t say for sure what he’d do if he saw her.

Waiting on Dianna now, hand and foot—and realizing that he took pleasure in doing so and wasn’t the least bit impatient or put out about it—Chris got her seated and her food arranged in front of her. Napkin across her lap, fork in her right hand, everything salted and peppered for her. Only then did he sit down and arrange his own plate and drink and silverware. “You got everything you need, Dianna?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Yes. You’re here, aren’t you?”

God, he wanted to believe these things she was saying. Chris’s heart actually lurched with his need to believe her, yet he firmed his lips together. Did she mean it? Did she have any idea what she was saying? He decided to test her. “Dianna, honey, where are we?”

“Where are we?” she repeated. Then, frowning and looking befuddled—and totally little-girl adorable—Dianna made a slow sweeping visual pass of the noisy cafeteria. When she was done with that, her gaze again rested on Chris. Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes appeared black and only ringed with their usual gold color. “My guess is a cafeteria. In a hospital. Right?”

“Right. And why are we here?”

She looked at the food in front of her and then raised her head to look at Chris. “To eat?”

That got a chuckle out of him. Okay, be more specific. “Yes, to eat. But what are we doing here at the hospital, Dianna?”

She grinned widely and warmly. “We’re having a baby.”

Chris waffled, thinking he could go either way with that answer. “Sort of. Not us, actually, but…?” He waited for her to fill in a name.

“Tommy.”

“That’s good. Close. Not literally Tommy, but who?”

A frown flitted across her features and then cleared. “Karen. Can I eat now?”

Chris laughed, picking up his fork. “Sure. You can eat now.”

*   *   *

Reality came back to Dianna with a rush. Pop! Zow!—and here she was. She gasped, breathing in deeply, holding it, unable to exhale yet, and clutching at a yucky little round table’s edge. Finally her lungs allowed her to exhale. “Ohmigod, Chris.”

He was sitting across from her. “Hey, you’re back!”

“Back from where? Where am I? Wait. I know. Karen. Baby. Hospital.”

“Yeah. Exactly. And this is obviously the cafeteria.”

She pointed at him. “Chicken and dumplings, right?”

“Very good. You were a good girl and cleaned your plate.”

Dianna gave a start. “Oh, Chris, the baby. Did I miss the baby?”

He held out a placating hand to her. “No. There’s no baby yet. Edward said he’d come get us if anything happened. And he hasn’t yet, so you didn’t miss anything. More importantly, how are you feeling now?”

“Wait. I’ll check.” Dianna turned her attention inward to her body, paying attention to its signals. Everything seemed in order. “Good,” she told him. “I’m okay.” Then she frowned. “Percodan, right?”

“Right. And we will be flushing that as soon as you get back home.” A troubled expression claimed his features. “Why in God’s name did you take something you’re allergic to, Dianna? You scared the hell out of everyone.”

She felt just awful about that. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s crazy, but I forget which painkiller it is that I’m allergic to. I hardly ever take anything and things accumulate in the medicine chest and I don’t clean it out, then when I need something, I’ve forgotten which one of them it was—”

“Okay. Fair enough. We’ll just clean that cabinet out and write down somewhere what you can and cannot take, okay?”

She smiled. “Okay. You’re a nice man, Chris Adams.”

“So you’ve been saying.”

“I have?” Embarrassed for herself, Dianna raised a hand to cover her face. “What have I been saying?”

Chris chuckled at her discomfiture. “Let’s just say I’m very flattered. But, hey, don’t beat yourself up.” His dark eyes warmed. “I’ve missed you.”

Dianna frowned. “You keep saying that. How long was I gone?”

“About two or three hours, total. Here in the cafeteria about an hour. Long enough for it to pretty much clear out.”

She looked around. He was right. There weren’t more than five or six tables, besides theirs, that were occupied. “Wow. This place is pretty bleak.”

Chris shrugged. “Not bad as hospitals go.”

Dianna looked at the all-but-licked-clean plate in front of her. “So I guess the food’s pretty good.”

“You seemed to think so. You ate yours and part of mine.”

Dianna sat back in her chair. “I am totally appalled at myself. You poor man.” Then, that “poor man” thing reminded her … “My family, Chris. How’d they treat you?”

Grinning, he pushed his chair back, away from the table, and crossed his legs, an ankle atop the opposite knee, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Totally sensual and powerful. “Let’s just say they were polite, then curious, then pissed, and finally pretty amazed with me.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Except the amazed part.”

He shrugged. “Not ‘good’ amazed, but I’m a big boy. They’ll come around.”

They’ll come around. That meant he intended to be around. Suddenly flooded with emotion for this strong, handsome, smart man who made her laugh and made her yearn and want and need and be better than she actually was, Dianna leaned forward over the wobbly table, shoving her dinner plate back and crossing her arms atop the table. “You know what, Chris Adams?”

“No. What?”

“I think I might love you.”

She’d surprised him with that, she could tell. His eyebrows went up and he sat up straight. But then he shrugged, looking unaffected and waving away her declaration. “Sorry. Old news. You already said that.”

Dianna’s eyes rounded. “I did? While I was under the influence?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it, you know.”

He grinned, reaching across the table for her hand. “That’s nice to know. And you know what else? I think I might love you, too.”

Warmed to her very soul, overjoyed, Dianna reached out to Chris across the cluttered table in this most unlikely of locations and grasped his hand. The instant he touched her, she felt the electric shock of joy and the sheer rightness of this moment and this man—

Then she heard a voice. A familiar one. A mean one. Off to her left. Then a laugh. His hand still in hers, Chris froze, gripping her hand hard. Dianna’s involuntary response had been the same. She looked into Chris’s eyes, saw the recognition in his face … and saw a muscle tic in his jaw. Dianna wrenched her hand out of his and stood up abruptly, forcing her molded plastic chair to scrape back loudly in the almost empty seating area.

“Dianna, don’t.” Chris was getting up out of his chair.

“Oh, but I am.”

“Let me handle this.”

“No. I owe her. And I’m going to kick her ass.”