Page 63 of Man Flu

“And I was up at three, sick to my stomach. Your bathroom ran out of toilet paper, so I went downstairs to find more. Rick showed me where it was, and we got to talking.”

“How sweet,” I grunt. “Rick, you can’t stay here. Tiana’s going to need to find somewhere else to dump you.”

“Hannah,” Logan interrupts. “Just give him a break for a few. He feels like shit—I get it.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from saying something I shouldn’t say with Cora around, but I can’t resist saying something. “Um, you know I had the same flu, right?”

“It obviously wasn’t the same,” Rick says. Leave it to Rick to make that comment. It seems Logan might be smart enough not to say such a thing.

“Of course,” I play along. “Your flu must be worse than mine was.”

“Do you have anything bland we can eat for breakfast?” Logan asks. “I can get it.”

“We?” Seeing them curled up in bed together, all I can think is that Logan and Rick are now dating, so that’s fun.

“Us,” Logan says, pointing back and forth between him and Rick.

I’m still stuck staring at the two of them, trying to figure out my next move. I pivot and leave the room, heading right for the front door. I grab my coat and step into my Uggs on the way out, then cross the lawn over to Rick’s house.

I try the doorknob first but it’s locked, so I reach under the front mat and retrieve their spare key. Rick is the one who left the spare key to my house under the front mat. I forgot it was there. He clearly hasn’t changed his ways. Doesn’t he know it’s the first place anyone would look?

I unlock the door and walk inside. This house is the same layout as mine, except it’s mirrored. “Tiana?” I holler on my way to their broken-family room.

I poke my head into the kitchen, but I’m not surprised to find it empty. She can’t cook. She can only make green smoothies. I look from side to side as I near the family room, but that room is empty too. I have no issues hiking upstairs since she just walks into my house unannounced. “Tiana?”

I open their bedroom door and peek inside, finding her sitting on the edge of her bed, painting her toenails while watching a talk show. “What are you doing?” I ask her. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“I did,” she responds.

“So, you just ignored me?”

“Yup.” There’s a snippiness to her response, so I can guess where this conversation is heading.

“I heard you kicked Rick out?” It should be none of my business, but Rick has made it my business.

She swivels around and faces me with her eyes jutting out from between her thick, black lashes. “He said I kicked him out?”

“Yes.” Now, I’d like to leave and unstick myself from this situation.

“Do you know how many times that man has called out your name during our lovemaking?” Gag. I’m going to gag. I don’t want to hear about their lovemaking or anything of that nature. Visualizing that would most likely make me want to puke again.

But he’s called my name out while doing this pretty little hussy.

“No, Tiana, I wouldn’t know how many times that’s happened, but I can assume it was only because we were married for quite a while. A name just gets stuck in your head sometimes.”

“Hannah,” she says in her Cuban accent. “He doesn’t want a temporary fixture in his life. He wants his wife. He was just having a mid-wife crisis.”

“Mid-life,” I correct her.

“What—ever. He’s over me. I’m old news. I can’t cook or clean, and he’s sick of my smoothies. I have nothing to offer but my body.”

Breathe. In and out. Breathe. “Well, I don’t want him back, so make it work,” I tell her, keeping my face clear of all emotions.

“You think I haven’t tried?” she argues. “This isn’t something new.” I think this might be the most serious conversation I’ve had with this woman, and I’m starting to empathize with her, rather than hate her.

“I’m sure you’re just going through a rough patch. All couples have them.” If someone would have told me five years ago that I’d be persuading my husband’s mistress to hang onto him, I’m not sure what my reaction would be … well, other than poisoning the shit out of him so I could watch him suffer.

“Look, he’s needy right now. I’m trying my hand at this whole dating-after-a-divorce thing, and Rick has to get out of my house,” I tell her.