Page 71 of My Wife
Me: What? That you’re popular in the sixty-five-plus age category.
I send him the link to #MrDarcysAbs on social media and wait for him to bang my door down because it seems like the kind of thing he’d hate. But right now, snug and warm in my bed, texting my big bad boss, I feel like he’s backed off his dislike of me a little.
Mr. Meanie: I don’t want to see some dude’s abs.
Me: You mean YOUR abs. Social media users claim they’re yours. Please do me a solid and confirm.
Mr. Meanie: If they are mine, where on earth are they getting the images?
Me: You probably sell photos to fund your rock-chewing habit.
Mr. Meanie: My what habit? I have nice teeth.
Me: That means you never have anything nice to say.
Mr. Meanie: I liked the cake.
Me: Are all your teeth original?
Mr. Meanie: Why do you care?
Me: Grandma Dolly sends me daily updates to the hashtag. She probably wants to start one featuring your teeth, your toes, all of it.
Mr. Meanie: You mean YOU didn’t sign up for notifications?
Me: That’s what you took from my statement?
Mr. Meanie: Admit there’s something you like about me.
I go still, my hand stiff around the phone. That does not sound like something Liam would ask. I’ve been baited! Someone took his phone and this is a phishing scheme or they’re trolling me. Could be Rexlan and his basement dwelling, internet-video game mafia.
Me: I, uh, have to go.
Mr. Meanie: To sleep?
No, because now my mind will whir and wonder all night.
Me: If this is really Liam, tell me what we’re doing tomorrow.
Mr. Meanie: Getting you a new car.
Me: Beep! That was the buzzer sound. No, that’s nuts. Plus, you have appointments.
I list them in a separate text and then regret it because now if someone has hacked his phone and is posing as him, they’ll know where he’ll be and when. Suddenly overheating with worry, I kick off my covers. I have to figure this out. Now.
Me: Tell me something only I would know.
Mr. Meanie: Wait, do you think this isn’t me for some reason?
Me: Obviously.
Mr. Meanie: I knew about the whole #MrDarcysAbs thing.
Me: You could’ve just been playing along.
Mr. Meanie: Why #MrDarcysAbs though?
Me: Because you’re stone cold like Jane Austen’s male protagonist.
