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“I don’t, Daddy. Honest. And we’ve been getting along great, haven’t we?” I looked to my husband with pleading eyes, silently begging him to go along with the talk track.
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely,” he said, his voice taking on some strange quality I hadn’t heard before.
My dad’s alpha dog bit was probably getting to him.
“I’m sure it’s going to be great,” he continued. “No worries. I mean…”
The man started rambling, and I knew if I didn’t interrupt, he’d say something dumb.
“Will you tell Mom I’ll call her in the morning? I’ll probably have to stop by in a few days for more stuff. We’re both anxious to just get going before traffic is unbearable.”
Now I was rambling.
My dad just volleyed his attention between us, his frown deepening the more we spoke.
“Ready?” I asked my spouse in an overly bright voice. I sounded like a chipmunk after inhaling helium. But I slid my hand into his, and he gave me a reassuring squeeze. My dad zeroed in on our entwined hands, and I realized Carmen’s bright-green wedding band was on full display.
Immediately I dropped his hand and gave him a little shove at the small of his back. “I’ll follow you.”
After a quick peck on my father’s cheek, I nearly dived into my car and busied myself with the seat belt.
“Bye!” I shouted through the closed window and then waved and put my little car into reverse and waited for Carmen to start backing out. I gave my dad another wave, and we sped off.
Holy shit, that was a disaster. At least he didn’t seem stressed about any of it. Just confused. I didn’t need his precarious cardiac condition hanging over my head too.
We merged onto the 405 northbound, and I realized I had no idea where my husband lived. Normally, that should’ve come up in a conversation at some point, but our relationship was anything but normal.
The control freak in me immediately summoned the Bluetooth assistant in my car to call Carmen while we sped along the surprisingly uncongested freeway. Before the call connected, though, I pressed the End icon on the dashboard display. It was time to show a little faith in the man and just follow him to our destination. I might have a panic attack by the time we arrived, but I was out to prove to myself, if not him too, that I could do this.
Turned out my new address was in Glendale. We turned into a newer complex that was manicured to perfection. Really, the place suited Carmen to a T. He motioned for me to pull alongside him, so I did and put my passenger-side window down.
“There’s assigned parking, so ensure you always park in one of our spots or you will be towed. And they don’t mess around with that rule above all others, so seriously, Storm, spot 219 right there, or under the covered parking on the other side over there.”
“Okay,” I said but continued looking around the grounds of the complex.
“Did you hear me?” he repeated, and I swung a glare his way.
“Yes, I heard you,” I replied in a very petulant tone. “But if you ever speak to me that way again, I’ll drive right back to Brentwood. What do you have against the ocean anyway?”
He looked confused while answering, “Nothing. Love the beach, actually.”
“Well, we just logged a lot of eastbound miles, dude.”
“It’s called affordability, darling. Sorry it’s not Malibu, like your sister landed, but I bring in a fraction of what that guy does.”
He defended his location and salary, and it looked like I might have ruffled a feather or two. But he gave his head a little shake and was back to the affable guy he usually was.
“You park there”—he pointed to his spot again—“and I’ll meet you at that staircase.” With the second comment, he indicated an outdoor stairwell that led to two doors off a sizable landing.
I gave him a quick salute and zipped into the parking space. Loaded down with as many bags as I could manage, I lumbered toward the apartment. A very good-looking guy stopped me and slid two of the bags from my shoulder and insisted on helping. When we cleared the stairs, my husband looked ready to blow a gasket.
“Darling, making friends already?” he said in a snarky voice.
Ooooo, someone is jealous, and it looks adorable on his normally serious features.
“Carmen, this is Blake. He insisted on giving me a hand up all those steps. Phew. Good thing too!”
I poured on the helpless-girl routine, and Carmen glared.
