Page 87 of For Eva

Ishut the car door with my hip, my arms weighed down with two bags of groceries, and my laptop bag and purse slung over my shoulder. Drew and Miles ran ahead to the front door, shoving each other in a race to see who could get there first. I teetered on my heels up the brick walkway, trying to balance the load I was carrying, yelling for the boys to stop pushing.

I let out a long sigh as I got to the door and realized my keys were in my purse.

“Drew, will you reach in my purse and get the key to the house, please?”

He unfastened the snap and dug around in the bag, producing a tampon in a hot pink wrapper. “What’s this?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Can you just get the keys?” I asked, my voice sharp as I shifted the bags that were beginning to slip from my grip.

He shrugged and plopped the tampon back in my purse, finally producing the ring of keys.

“Okay, now take the gold one and put it in the lock on the door, then turn it.”

“Mama, can we have pizza for dinner?” Miles asked, dropping his little Spiderman backpack into the row of boxwoods beside us.

I closed my eyes, my patience wearing thin at Drew’s fourth attempt at fitting the key into the lock. “No, we’re having chicken. It’s better for you. And what are you doing? Pick up your backpack and bring it inside.”

Drew finally managed to open the door, and I hurried to the kitchen, plopping the groceries on the counter and letting my laptop and purse slide off my shoulder onto the floor with a loud thud. I kicked off my heels and rested my elbows on the island, threading my fingers through my hair as the boys darted down the hallway to play video games.

I closed my eyes and slowly circled my fingers over my temples, trying to relieve the dull ache pulsing in my head. The day had, to put it plainly, fucking sucked. One of our artists was being a complete diva and threatening to walk unless we “stepped up our game,” as if helping her sell a million fucking records in two months wasn’t enough. To top that off, my two junior associates had managed to create an HR nightmare when they were caught having sex in one of the vacant offices. And because of the massive amount of paperwork and red tape that event entailed, I was late picking up the kids from camp.

I sighed and looked to my right at the bottle of pinot noir sitting on the counter, shining brightly and beckoning me toward my salvation like the star of Bethlehem. I slid my elbows off the smooth black granite on the island, shoved the perishable groceries into the refrigerator, and popped the cork, pouring an extremely generous portion into a globe-shaped glass. I leaned against the counter, taking a long sip, then let out an equallylong exhale. At least all I had to do for dinner was boil pasta and throw some marinara sauce and mozzarella on the chicken.

I chewed my lip and narrowed my eyes as a thought popped into my head. I turned around, scanning the counter. Hadn’t I put the chicken out to thaw by the wine that morning?

“What the fuck?” I whispered to myself.

I stepped over to the refrigerator and tugged the freezer drawer open. And there it was. My package of four chicken breasts, completely frozen. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath as the cold air flowed over my body. I slammed the drawer and went to swipe my wine glass off the counter, missing my target and sending it crashing onto the hardwood floor.

“Motherfucker,” I spat, stepping back from the shards of glass scattered in front of me.

I grabbed the broom, keeping my distance so as to avoid the additional chaos of a flesh wound. I gathered the mess into the dustpan and tossed it into the trash before setting to work on sopping up the liquid with a wad of paper towels.

“Look at you on your hands and knees scrubbing the floor before your very important husband comes home from his very important job. Where’s my Tom Collins and pack of Pall Malls?”

I turned my head to the side, tossing my hair out of my face, to see Aaron standing at the entrance to the kitchen in his navy blue suit pants and white button-down shirt. I’d been so frazzled by the chicken and the wine I hadn’t heard him come in.

“I need a goddamn Pall Mall,” I grumbled, going back to work on soaking up the last of the wine. I tossed the ball of paper towels to the side and slumped against the cabinet, my legs splayed out in front of me.

He placed his keys on the island, a lopsided grin on his face as he walked toward me and extended his arms. I grabbed onto them, huffing and pulling myself up.

“So you had a good day?” he joked, squeezing my hands before letting them fall to my sides as he walked to the fridge and popped open a beer.

“Best day of my fucking life,” I said, retrieving another glass and pouring the remaining wine. “And I forgot the chicken.”

“Huh?” he asked, taking a swallow from the bottle in his hand.

“The stupid chicken for dinner. I forgot to leave it out to thaw.”

He shrugged. “Just stick it in the microwave. Or better yet, let’s order pizza.”

“I guess you really are Miles’s father.” I rolled my eyes and wriggled out of my black blazer, flinging it onto the island across from me.

He laughed and set his beer down, sliding in behind me and rubbing my knotted shoulders.

I dropped my head forward and moaned. “Oh my God, do that forever, please.”

“Wanna talk about your day or no?”

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