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Emilia
Emilia led the children to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Though she had tried her best to stay positive while they put their gardening tools away in the garage, thoughts of Ra’as and his date kept bubbling up in her mind.
How could he bring that woman to the house to sleep with her?
She felt a fury so deep it was hard to process. Even though she had no reason to take his actions personally, they still cut like a knife through her unsuspecting heart.
She had no real reason to judge him for employing a service to meet his needs. He was a widower, and he wasn’t answering to anyone.
But she judged him anyway.
Images of the woman on her knees in front of him kept flashing through her mind, and fury burned in her veins.
She had wanted a peaceful, happy evening with the kids. She hadn’t expected Ra’as to take time with them.
But it was as if that teasing moment of family bliss had opened her eyes to what could have been.
If only he weren’t off losing himself in that woman.
“Do you have a headache, Emilia?” Mimi asked her suddenly.
“No, my love,” she replied, feeling guilty for being so much in her own space. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Daddy is quiet when he has a headache,” Mimi said wisely.
“Oh, that’s a good thing to notice,” Emilia told her. “But I think I’m just quiet because we had a busy day.”
“You’re tired,” Mimi pointed out.
“Yes,” Emilia agreed. “That’s probably it.”
“Are we making cupcakes again?” Dyrk asked hopefully.
“It got a little late tonight,” Emilia said. “I think we’ll just eat what Cook made today. Maybe we’ll cook tomorrow.”
The kids both groaned.
“Why don’t you guys sit at the table and relax while I get it ready?” she asked.
They trudged over to the big wooden table and sat listlessly.
She grabbed the boxes out of the fridge and plopped them down on the table, wishing she could slam them down.
I’ll bet his date isn’t eating a box of congealed glop for dinner. I’ll bet they’re having champagne and chocolate covered malaberries.
She pictured him slipping a chocolate covered berry into the woman’s moist, red mouth and wanted to set the house on fire.
Shaking her head and trying to get it together, she peeled back the lids on the containers.
A bitter, yeasty scent, rose from them - like someone had mixed raw bread dough with a bottle of vitamins.
“Wait until you see the spot for our garden, Dyrk,” Mimi whispered to her brother from the table. “You can see it from the windows in your room.”
“Really?” he asked, perking up.
“Yes,” Mimi told him.
