Page 56 of The Homemaker
I have a good life. Good enough.
And so does he.
In the fall, he will marry Blair and move to New York. I will stay here and put most of my paycheck into savings so I can buy a house in Edina.
Single and alone.
During the holidays, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy Paddon will come home to visit. Perhaps they will bring their children, and I can be the nanny while the adults go to dinner and sit in a private box at the theater to watchThe Nutcracker.
Maybe Vera will die, and Hunter will make me his secret lover.
As I serve breakfast to Blair, Murphy, and their children, I’ll overhear one of their kids saying he heard Grandpa Morrison making noises the previous night. Murphy will discreetly mumble to Blair,“Sounds like your dad found someone to suck his old, gray balls.”
Blair will gasp and slap his arm, but not before snorting. She’ll say,“Stop! That’s gross. Can you imagine who would be desperate enough to sleep with my old dad?”
“Do you have something you’d like to tell me?” Hunter asks, bringing me out of my ridiculous hallucination as I refill his coffee.
What is wrong with me? Why does my mind wander so far out of reality?
It’s just him and Murphy for an early breakfast. They have a tee time in an hour, and Blair and Vera are still in bed. Murphy eyes me, glancing up from his plate of steak that Hunter has him eating every morning, too. He shamed him with something about “real men” being carnivores. But I like to believe that Murphy eats steak because I’m the one cooking it.
“Sorry. Was there something I was supposed to do for you?” I press my lips together and squint at Hunter.
“Yes. You’re supposed to work for me. But I got a text from my neighbor saying you baked him a pie for his birthday and spanked him in his birthday suit.”
Murphy snickers, pressing a fist to his mouth while coughing.
I shrug. “I was told by the powers that be that a good homemaker bakes pies for neighbors. But the spanking himin his birthday suit was on my own time.” I shoot him a toothy grin. “Not on the clock.”
Hunter scowls at Murphy when he won’t stop laughing.
“Did he try to steal you?” Hunter asks.
I nod.
“How much?”
“Double what you’re paying me.”
“Christ.” Hunter shakes his head. “Before you pack your bags and cross the line into enemy territory, just know that he won’t be paying you to cook him breakfast and do his laundry. He’ll make you wear a bikini while you apply hemorrhoid cream to his ass. I might be ‘needy’ according to the missus, but Rupert Rawlings is nothing but a blend of vanilla-flavored meal replacement sludge and dick enhancement drugs. Now,” he takes one last sip of his coffee and stands, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to smother my wife with a pillow and brush my teeth so we don’t miss our tee time.”
After offering a tight smile, I return to the kitchen.
“How does it feel to be the trophy for which two old guys are fighting over?” Murphy asks, bringing his dirty dishes to the kitchen.
“Just something to check off my bucket list.”
“Is that so? If that’s the case, I’d love to hear the rest of your bucket list.”
I take the dishes from Murphy. “Thanks. But you have to stop doing my job.”
“I’m just helping out. Do you want to know what else I like to do?”
“The dishes?” I turn my back and run water in the sink.
“When I go to the store, I like to organize the carts in the cart return so they’re in neat rows.”
I close my eyes for a second before adding soap to thewater. He’s pushingsohard. That fourth wall will not last until the end of summer.
