Page 31 of Miss Understood

“Sorry, it’s just a little surprising coming from a guy who doesn’t even know where his own dry cleaner is.” Mateo flutters his eyelashes at me. “But I guess you are herhusband.”

The way he says it, like an inside joke, grinds my nerves.

“You’re lucky we’re friends, you know that?”

“I do,” Mateo says, sitting up tall. “Someone’s got to keep that ego in check if we want it to continue to fit through the doorway.”

“Just give me her address.” I hold out my hand and wave my fingers impatiently. “And hold the jokes about me not knowing where my own wife lives.”

“You’re actually serious about this.” Mateo scribbles down her address and hands me the paper with a lifted eyebrow. “How very Mr. Caretaker of you.”

“Don’t,” I tell him, looking down and realizing Luce doesn’t live that far from me.

Normally I don’t care to know anything personal about my employees, like where they live. As long as they show up to work and do their jobs, they can do whatever they want with their free time. But staring at Luce’s address, I’m reminded that Luce is no longer just an employee. And the many things I want to know about her start swirling in my head.

Does she live alone?

Does she have pets?

What side of the bed does she sleep on, and what’s she wearing in it?

Fuck, this is a slippery slope. For all I know, Luce has a boyfriend she hasn’t mentioned, and he’ll answer the door when I get there.

Hello, who are you?

Oh, just her husband. Funny story—

I need to shake these thoughts out of my head. It’s not real, just an act. A pretend husband bringing a few things to his pretend wife so she can recover and get back to the office. That’s it. This isn’t personal, it’s business.

If I tell myself that enough, maybe I’ll start to believe it.

Mateo pulls a bag out of his desk drawer. “Here. Cold medicine, Kleenex, a can of soup.”

“You’re a good friend,” I tell him, and I mean it.

Mateo may act like he keeps people at a distance, but he has a big heart, and he cares a lot. When Serena first moved to my place in Olympia after her breakup, Mateo stayed with her for a couple days to get her settled. He’s not just a friend, he’s family.

“And you will make a mighty fine delivery boy.” Mateo waves me away from his desk.

“I’m still your boss,” I say to him, walking away.

“Mm-hmm,” he hums.

“I could fire you.”

“You wouldn’t last a day with me gone.”

I bury a chuckle, knowing he’s right.

It’s barely eleven when I get to Luce’s door. I tried sitting in my office and waiting until lunch. Wouldn’t want to seem desperate to check in, even though a real husband probably would be. But I made it a whole twenty minutes before packing up my things and telling Mateo I’d be running errands before a lunch meeting.

He gave me that same suspicious look but kept his mouth shut.

When I push her buzzer, a bell rings loud enough that I hear it from outside. There’s a long pause, and I worry that maybe she’s sleeping and I’m waking her up. What idiot doesn’t call or text first?

“Hello?” a voice that resembles Luce’s croaks through the speaker. Mateo wasn’t lying when he said she sounded horrible.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” I say. “I brought you soup.”

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