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"Zach, are you ok with it?"
"Absolutely. She's the only legitimate reason I'd give up screwing London for one night."
Romantic asshole would get himself castrated soon.
"Deal, Chelsea stays with you tomorrow night. I have to be in the OR next morning so I can pick her up at noon." And now that I had a very capable person and obnoxious surgeon lined up as my babysitters, I could set up some other things. "Zachary, do you still have that membership to the Chicago Yacht Club?"
"Yeah, my parents keep a boat at the marina."
"If it's not too much to ask, could you arrange for a dinner tomorrow. For two?"
Ambulance lights went off around his head, and I knew shit was about to rain and pour my way.
"Two? Are you passing us your baby so you can score? Is this the chick you picked up in Boston?"
Fuck. Ok, Sullivan, you can do this, just remember the number one rule for lying: stay close to the truth.
"Yes, if you mast know, it's the same woman I was with a couple of weeks ago, and this is all I'm willing to discuss with you on the subject."
Yeah, because me not wanting to discuss it would stop Zachary Ford.
"We all know you were reluctant to start dating again after the blood-sucking-tick-of-an-ex-wife left, but here you are going on a fancy date. Again. My conclusion is that the pussy you're getting might me amazing, at least for your low ass standards."
He was not wrong.
"Stop being crude, especially in front of a lady, your fiancée no less."
"Thank you, James, but I'm starting to get used to his gross side. I'm happy to hear you have...umm, company tomorrow. I'll make sure that he takes care of the reservation for you. Can we go now, Zach? I'm hungry."
My dumbass friend smirked and gave her a sloppy kiss.
"Hungry is code for horny right? Because if you are just hungry, I have more torture for my man Sullivan and his new fluffer."
The sweet voice of Gloria Estefan was serenading me while I sat in a high stool in the middle of the living room wearing a thong and one of James's shirts.
Late last night, when I was walking the halls like a lunatic because it was the first night with James gone, - or the first I can remember, anyway - I started scouring the internet. I found out three very important facts: there was a market a few blocks away where I could find corn leaves for my tamales; we couldn’t visit the Museum of Contemporary Photography without making an online appointment, and there was an art supply store in Chicago that made front door deliveries very quick. I told James he'd regret the day he gave me a credit card linked to his account. A few hours ago, a handsome middle age gentleman dropped off not one, not two, but three big boxes for me. I didn’t know why I had no painting utensils in the house, but I was not about to go another day without correcting the situation. James kept talking about therapy to cope with the shit storm in my head, but I needed this more. This was my meditation.
As soon as Chelsea started napping, sucking on her favorite pacifier, I made her an improvised crib on the living room sofa, placed a sheet on the floor and fixed my brand-new easel. Just looking at the white, empty canvas put me in a state of general calmness that I had been missing.
Then I started painting. I didn’t know what because right then I only had a very colorful background. I went for bright colors, yellow, red and blue, probably because I was getting bored of all this elegant ivory on the walls.
The front door opened, and I smiled, knowing tall, hot and caring would walk in any second, and I could put his soft lips to good use, but the next thing I heard was a soft banging noise and James cursing in a whisper.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, I forgot to move the empty boxes. I was too excited to come and spread my oils on white. Quickly, I put my brush down and ran into the hall to see if he was ok.
I found my husband with one foot stuck in a cardboard box, and I almost burst out laughing when I saw him struggling to break free.
"Do you want me to get that for you, Doc?"
He jolted his head up, and I got to see the signs of tiredness on him; the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness, the messy hair. I immediately felt bad for not being more considerate and cleaning up my mess, and I went to help him.
"Oh, hello, love, I didn't even notice you standing there."
"I am so sorry, James; I should have cleaned up. It totally slipped my mind."
He stopped and dragged his eyes slowly up my body from head to toe. Gah, there was something about this man; he looked at me, and suddenly I felt like the most seductive woman in sight.
