Page 24 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

And I was waiting for her to leave my front porch. If I opened the door she might be able to hear screaming. "Bye," I said, hoping it didn't sound rude.

"Okay. Just call if you need anything. And don't forget that lasagna."

Right. I lifted it up and smiled.

She smiled back. "And if you need any help decorating for the annual Christmas light competition, let me know."

Did she not understand that I'd retired from being a perfect suburban housewife? "Will do." You're dismissed.

She finally retreated.

I let out the breath I'd been holding. Soon my whole neighborhood would know my husband was "missing." Everyone would be talking about me. When Charlotte was well out of earshot, I opened the front door. I was expecting to hear yelling, but it was quiet. Snuggle Muffins trotted after me back into the house.

"You know, you were supposed to stay in the kitchen." I looked down at him.

He sighed.

"But you were right to growl. She's a meanie. Don't be fooled by the lasagna." I lifted it up. "Dirty housewife games."

I swore Snuggle Muffins nodded.

"Okay, let's go get wasted. Well, not you. And not me either. Loose lips sink ships. And my ship isn't going down. My husband's is going down. Burn baby burn."

Snuggle Muffins sighed.

Why am I talking to a dog?

***

"Fa la la la la, I have your drink." I set down the tray and lifted up the bottle of champagne my husband and I had been saving for a special occasion. Today felt special to me.

He stayed silent as I poured the champagne into the flutes we'd used on our wedding day. What he didn't know was that the bottle was only half filled with champagne. I was going for drunk. Not a mild buzz. It was half vodka now. And a splash of orange juice to cover the flavor.

I put the flute to his lips and he took a sip. And then coughed. "What the hell is that?"

"You asked for a drink."

He stared at me. "Are you drugging me again?"

"I would never. That was a one-time thing, I swear."

I put the champagne flute back up to his lips but he refused to take another sip.

Damn it. I lifted up my flute and took the tiniest of sips. "See? Not poisoned."

"Drink from my glass."

I rolled my eyes and drank from his glass. "Satisfied?"

"No I'm not satisfied. I'm tied up in your basement."

Your basement. He was still staring at me like he didn't know who I was. I was nervous to come down here because I thought he'd remembered. If he didn't remember, there was no point in getting him drunk. Or did he remember and was just playing games with my head? I stared at him.

"You're glaring at me again," he said.

"I don't glare." I put the glass to his lips but he denied it again.

"Every time you take a sip, I'll take a sip. No more, no less."

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