He sighed, grabbing the throw from the back of the couch and wrapping it tightly around her body.
“My point being,” he said, “you’re fucking drunk. You haven’t bathed or been out the house in a week. You’re rambling about dogs and toenails. So yeah, I think you’re a little crazy right now.” He paused when he saw her face, the expression caught somewhere between surprise and rage.
“Let me go! You don’t understand, you don’t care…”
Simon tightened his grip and shook her a bit when she began to struggle against him, unable to control his temper any longer. “You’re right, Irene, I don’t care. I honestly couldn’t give two shits about you and Jim. You’re wondering why Jim left you?” he chuckled. “Maybe it’s because every time you open your mouth it’s to criticize. Maybe it’s because you haven’t been able to hold down a job in two years. Or maybe – just maybe – he left because he was sick of watching you fuck every guy except him.” He sneered, hoping his disgust for her showed in his face. “What do you think?”