Page 16 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
I just stare at it for a moment, bathing in the cool breeze. My kitchen is utterly transformed, and I’m bizarrely emotional about it.
I try to breathe past it, but I can’t. I’m choked up. My eyes are tearing.
“I know it’s just a stupid window,” I manage, “but you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Just a little breeze while I’m in here.” I laugh at my own tears. “Sorry, I’m being emotional.”
“It’s more than just the window, I’m guessing.” He bumps his shoulder against mine, as if he wants to comfort me but isn’t sure how or what’s appropriate.
I laugh, sniffle, and wipe at my eyes. “Yeah, you could say that.” I glance at him, and then opt for some of the truth. “When you first came over, you asked if this was a fixer-upper that got away from me.”
“I sure did.”
“That’s fairly close to the truth.” I tug my shorts a little lower and my top a little higher. “My ex-husband had the brilliant idea of buying an older house that needed a little TLC with the idea we could spend our weekends and summers fixing it up. He’s an associate principal at the high school, so he’s got summers off. He’s not exactly a handyman or construction expert, but his idea was that we’d learn together.”
Jesse snorts. “Yeah, that never works.”
“So I discovered.” I sigh. “I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, myself. It seemed like a lot of work, and I’d always had a hard time even getting Nicholas to change a light bulb or fix the leaky sink. Ripping out the linoleum floor and retiling? New windows? New front porch? Sand and restain the hardwood floors? Yeah, good luck. I knew better, but…” I trail off with a shrug.
“But you let him convince you anyway, because you loved him, and nothing ever got done, and finally you divorced his lazy ass?” Jesse guesses.
I laugh. “Pretty close, yeah. Factor in him banging the science teacher and his secretary, consistently telling me I’ve put on a few pounds since we got married…stuff like that. I wouldn’t divorce him just for being lazy. I mean, he worked a lot, but once he got home he turned into a couch potato.”
Jesse’s glare is scary. “He told you you’ve put on weight? He actually said that to you out loud?”
I shrug. “Yeah. A couple times.”
“Is he, like, a super-fit, health-food, gym-rat sort of a guy?”
I laugh until I have to hold my stomach. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I get myself under control, and try to speak without laughing. “Yeah, no, Nicholas is…he’s Mr. Belding, but thirty-some pounds overweight.”
“But you’re the one who changed?” He shook his head. “The science teacher and the secretary…were they, like, hard up for sex?”
I laugh again, but it’s strained with old pain. “Nope. That’s the hell of it all. The science teacher, the first person he cheated on me with, is thirty, married, and teaches a spin class on Sunday mornings. She’s fit and pretty and her husband is pretty good-looking himself. She has kids, for shit’s sake.” I shake my head and growl. “The secretary is even harder to understand. She’s not even thirty, is a size two, and she has these enormous fake breasts. She could be a contestant on The Bachelor, is what I’m saying. One of the ones who gets voted out in the first two episodes.”
“Is your ex good-looking despite being overweight?” Jesse asks, sounding genuinely baffled. “Like, what is it?”
My laugh is even more pained and forced. “No, not really. Average in pretty much every way. I mean, he’s not downright ugly, but no, he’s not especially good-looking.” I laugh again. “Really makes me wonder what’s wrong with me, and what I was thinking.”
Shit. Self-pity is not attractive.
Jesse winces. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. None of this is my business, and I clearly stepped in a pile of painful crap.”
I touch his bicep. “You’re not an asshole.”
“If you married him, you clearly saw something in him, and I was calling that into question.”
“As well you should. I’ve called it into question myself any number of times.”
“Still, it’s none of my business, and I’ve got no call asking you questions like that.” He gestures at me, a sweep of his hand from head to toe. “I just—I don’t get it. I look at you, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how the hell he justified cheating on you. He’s got all this—” another gesture at me, this time an angry or frustrated stab of his hand, “—waiting for him at home, and he’s banging married women and skanky secretaries?”
I lean against the counter, back to the window, facing Jesse. “Look, I don’t like labeling people. Just because she has fake tits and fucked my husband doesn’t make her a skank. They do seem to actually have a thing, honestly, because they’ve been dating for a while now. Maybe there’s something about her I don’t see—I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever tried to get to know her, obviously, I just…I don’t like name-calling or labels, unless I’m talking about Nicholas.”
