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“How do you know? You’ve never been married before.”
“Neither have you.” I set her cart aside and pull her along by the hand.
She wrinkles her nose. “Fine. Whatever.”
We meander up and down the aisles, mostly getting things that Betty left me a list for. She usually does the grocery shopping, but Vince said if Petal and I were out and about doing normal-people things, that would help add legitimacy to our ruse.
Betty hadn’t wanted me to shop, I guess out of fear I’d get all the wrong stuff, but I finally convinced her to make me a small list, something I couldn’t mess up too badly.
As if that wasn’t a big enough challenge, convincing my housekeeper I’m not a complete moron, I then had to find time when Petal was going to be around. Ever since our ‘night,’ when she returned to the guest room before my erection had even died down, she comes in late and leaves early the next morning, leaving us no time to talk… or anything.
“Don’t get that flour,” she says, removing the five-pound bag I added to our cart. “Get the store brand. Cheaper.”
I step back and look at her. “Are you for real? You and I each could probably afford to buy this whole store out, and you’re worried about which brand of flour is cheaper.”
She shrugs her shoulders high. “What can I say? I’m a thrifty bitch.”
Well then, I’m sure she has a preferred brand of granulated sugar, too. I’m about to ask her, when she wanders away.
Okay.
“Keep going with the list,” she says, gesturing with her chin. “I’m gonna grab some Diet Coke.”
So I take a look at the sugar and wouldn’t you know, the store brand is about half the price. I add it to our cart, wondering if Betty will be proud or think I’m a cheap bastard.
I finally make it to produce, where I’ve been instructed to pick up limes for some sort of marinade Betty has planned, when I see Petal talking to some guy. All I can see is her back, but damn if that guy isn’t looking at her like he’s got hunger in his eyes.
Could this be the ex?
I pretend to be squeezing oranges while I watch them. The guy cups Petal’s shoulder and runs his hand down her arm, where it lingers, like they’re familiar with each other. Really familiar.
Before I can even ask myself why I give a shit, I charge across the produce department, leaving a couple oranges to splat to the ground behind me, to see what the fuck is going on.
I shouldn’t care. I have no claim on this woman, even if she is my actual wife. And yet I don’t like this guy touching her. At all.
“Oh there you are, honey,” I say, slinging an arm around her shoulders, watching the guy drop his hand off hers. “Did you find your Diet Coke?” I say, looking at her empty hands.
Stupid question.
“Oh, yeah, I was just about to, but ran into, um, Andy.”
I thrust my hand in his direction. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rake Hanson.”
He laughs. “I know who you are. Nice to meet you too. I’m Andy Stackhouse.”
Has Petal told me his name? Is it Andy? Is this the guy? Shit, I can’t remember. But I don’t have to wonder for long.
“Andy is my ex. The one I nearly married,” she says.
Of course she’s going to tell me exactly who he is.
Not that he’s happy about being introduced that way. “Oh, um, yeah. I guess I am.”
“Your loss is my gain, my man,” I say with a huge grin.
Ugh. Why do I always have to stir the pot?
Andy’s face darkens. “Don’t speak so soon, buddy.”
