Page 29 of This Means War

At my door I turn. “Thank you, Cole,” I meet his gaze, “for standing up for me tonight.”

His eyes search mine, and for the second time that day I wonder if he might kiss me. Instead, he just nods. “You’re the mother of my babies, how could I not stand up for you?”

Right. My heart sinks. Of course, tonight was never about me, it was about the twins. Cole only cares about me in that capacity. I stuff down the feelings for him that have been rising inside me. I need to put my defenses back up.

“Well, good night then.” I swivel and go inside my room. The frogs are all still staring at me. I shudder, then try to focus on my annoyance with Cole for designing my room this way. Annoyance is better than a growing crush, that’s for sure. You can’t have a crush on someone you’re at war with.

I stomp to the wall and start removing all the frog pictures, setting them face down on the dresser. Soon it’s just me and the peace-sign tree frog. I think I’ll call him Enemy Number 2. It’ll be so satisfying tostuff him in the trash. I lift my hands up, grasp the sides of the painting and yank. Nothing. It doesn’t even budge. I yank harder. Still Nothing. I keep trying, tugging every corner until my arms start to hurt from holding them over my head so long. He must’ve superglued it or something.

Oh, I’m going to get him for this. The only question is how? I’m too tired to do anything tonight, so I resign myself to going to bed. Pulling the quilt back, I get in the bed and snuggle under it, drumming my fingers along the top edge as I think.

The frustrating thing is that he has money to spend on this war of ours. These frog decorations didn’t just materialize, and his house—his beautiful ranch with the enormous backyard and nearby shaded trails—certainly didn’t come cheap. I have very little money, and certainly can’t spend hundreds of dollars just to strike a blow at him. Basically, I’m colonial America and he’s England. No, I’m David and he’s Goliath. Something sparks in my brain. David. Goliath. That’s it. I smile to myself and settle back into my pillow already imagining my success.

Chapter 21

Lydia

AFTER CHURCH ON Sunday, I come home to find a note from Cole on the counter saying he had to go into work. This suits me just fine since I have a new regency romance novel from the library, and, in my experience, men are too busy making fun of the covers to appreciate the quality literature contained inside. With him gone I can enjoy my book on the couch under a blanket instead of in my room with a giant tree frog making eyes at me.

Cole still isn’t home that evening, so I eat dinner alone. I’ve finished my book by now, so I just head to bed. I’m starting to wonder if by work he meant hanging out with Ashley; after all, he referred to her as work once before. No, I squash these suspicions down, not sure why the thought of the two of them together bothers me so much.

To distract myself I get out my journal and start planning my next move, taking the seed of my idea from the night before and mapping it out into a full-on attack. I decide I’ll do it on Friday, because Faithhas a half day and, since we have a meet on Saturday, we don’t have track practice either.

I just hope I can be patient until then.

Cole

When I get homefrom the office shortly before eleven on Sunday night, Lydia is already asleep. I feel a little bad for leaving her on her own her first full day in the house, but she’s a grown woman; I’m sure she was fine. Besides, I can’t control the fact that the teenage son of a major client of ours chose last night to go joyriding in someone else’s Mercedes. This week will be crazy trying to get him off with just community service, and I’m not thrilled about the work. Frankly, it sounds like the kid could use a stint in juvie, but I’m not paid to have that opinion. At least it means I’ll have an excuse to see my parents very little while they’re here.

The strangest part of today though, was that at one point I actually found myself wishing I were at home with Lydia. Doing whatever she was doing, even if it was just lying around watching television. After that I couldn’t shake the feeling, and I kept picking up my phone to text her, then putting it back down, determined not to give into the whim. I showed her enough of my emotions last night. Not only that, but twice I came within a hair’s breadth of kissing her. Man, do I want to kiss her. I can’t let her know that though, not when she so clearly still doesn’t like or trust me. She considers us to be at warfor Pete’s sake!

Even though it’s late I head down to my home gym for the second time that day, needing to work out some of my pent-up emotions. As my feet pound down on the treadmill and sweat trickles down my forehead, I try to think about anything but her.

As I lie in bed an hour later though, I pick up my phone and open my YouTube app. Glancing around surreptitiously as if Lydia, or even Jamie, will pop in and spy what I’m up to, I pull the phone closer to my face and turn the volume down low. Clicking past the same paper towel ad from yesterday, I fix my eyes on the screen as a man in a lab coat comes on. When the video finishes, I hit replay. I watch it two times, then three times, then a fourth, until I’m confident I now know how to use an EpiPen.

Chapter 22

Lydia

By the time Fridayrolls around, I have determined two things. One: Cole is definitely a workaholic. He’s been at the office so much this weekthatI’ve barely seen him. And two: because of this my plan of attack may actually be a blessing in disguise. That’s fine though, I won’t be dissuaded. Anyway, he won’t see it as a blessing, and that’s what counts.

I dress carefully, knowing I’m headed to his big, fancy law office and unable to squelch the desire to make a good first impression. Or at least a better impression than I made on his parents. I choose the black calf-length skirt my mom bought me for law school interviews and a lilac top that ties on the side. Currently I still have a waistline, because, as it turns out, throwing up multiple times a day makes it hard to gain weight. I know I’ll be packing on the pounds soon enough though, so for now I’m going to enjoy the fact that I can still fit into my clothes.

In the kitchen I pull out the food I got at thegrocery store deli earlier this morning and set it on the counter. Like David brought his brothers lunch during their war with the Philistines, today I am bringing Cole lunch during his war with, well, me. This lunch is special though, and the perfect blow to his inflated ego. The ego that laughed at me when I fell asleep on my parents’ countertop two weeks ago. Guess who’s going to be laughing now?

I crush one of my Unisom tablets and sprinkle it across the chicken salad I bought for him. Some may look at what I’m doing as drugging Cole, but I prefer to think of it as giving him a supplement. He’s overworked and deserves an afternoon nap.

“Hehe–” I stifle the villainous laughter that bubbles out of me, and quickly snap the plastic lid of the container shut. I put it inside a basket I found in one of the cupboards, then take care to remember that his chicken salad is next to the fruit and mine is next to the carton of orange juice.

Cole

I’m just gettingoff the phone with a client when a commotion from out in the hallway grabs my attention. Curiosity getting the better of me, I peek my head out my office door, and my jaw drops to the floor. Lydia is here…in my office…and… wow…I’ve never seen her hair swept up like that. Her outfit is reminiscent of that day at the airport, all business-like and extremely...hot. There’s no other word for it. She’s spilled something all over the floor and four male associates are down on their hands and knees trying to pick everything up for her.

“Guys,” she sounds panicky, “it’s okay, I can get it, really.”

I look down and see that it’s food all over the floor; she’s dropped a lunch basket of food. She brought me lunch? My stomach swoops at the realization, the image of the two of us eating lunch in my office stirring something inside me.

Brian Morris, one of the firm’s newest junior associates, picks up a container of what looks like chicken salad.

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