Page 123 of Mr. Infuriating

Chapter Forty-Eight

Gretchen

I heard a commotion in the kitchen, followed by a shout of, “Oh fuck,” then the sound of water pouring onto the floor.

As I scrambled to reach the kitchen, Beau stuck his head through the opening in the plastic.

“Do you know where your water shutoff is?”

As a matter of fact, I did know. Back when Troy lived here and we could afford a monthly yard service, the landscaper showed me when he repaired the irrigation system.

“It’s on the west side of the house.”

Before Beau even stepped back, I heard the door leading to the garage open, and less than a minute later, the water splashing stopped. The sound of the door opening and closing followed soon after.

I didn’t even want to look in the kitchen.

Beau’s head darted back out from the seam in the plastic barrier.

“Do you have any towels you use for rags?”

“In the cabinet above the washer.”

“Thanks.”

He disappeared, and I ventured closer to where I could see the distorted image through the plastic of Gabe and Beau throwing towels on the floor, then Beau’s floating head appeared again.

“Do you have any buckets? Maybe a mop?”

“Also in the laundry room.”

“Got it.”

It was almost comical how quickly his face would appear and disappear.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped foot into the kitchen and was met with, “Don’t come any further!”

“Can I help?”

“No, we got it,” Beau said as he moved the mop along the floor. “But you’re going to be without water for at least a few days.”

Crap.

“Okay.”

Not ideal, but if anything, I knew how to pivot.

“That’s gonna make your mornings difficult, huh?”

Morning, night… was there ever a good time to be without water?

“I’ll call my parents; they’ll let me sleep on their couch.”

“Nonsense,” Beau replied. “You can stay with Gabe. He’s got plenty of room.”

Out of the question.

Judging by the look on Gabe’s face, he agreed with me.

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