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He huffed like he was two. “All right, all right. Fine. Anyway, see you at the house later.” He stood and was almost to the door when he turned around and held out his tie again. “Fine tie or great tie? Tell the truth. This tie might be the difference between wife or death.”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Wife or death?”
“Yeah. Finally finding myself a wife I can spend the rest of my life with or dying a lonely death by myself.” His eyes flickered to behind me, focusing on the skyline beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows.
With Brad, I never knew if he was serious or kidding. But in the brief silence, there was this look in his eye, a vulnerability that I never saw.
“At least I have the girls,” he said, erasing all the vulnerability I’d just seen moments ago. He smiled then. “They can change my Depends diapers. I changed their diapers for years, cleaning up poop and puke and all other bodily fluids a man of my age should not have to deal with yet.” With a wave of his hand, he was out the door. “Payback is a bitch, baby.”
When the door shut behind him, I rested my ankle on the opposite knee, my eyes traveling the length of my office, the bookshelves holding all the awards that our company had won throughout the years, gifts from clients and from suppliers. I swiveled my chair and stood, staring out the window, at the buildings as high as ours in the horizon, some even higher. At this height, it would seem as though I were on top of the world, a king on his throne. But as I rested my forehead against the glass, looking at the people, like tiny ants moving across the streets, Brad’s words rang loudly in my head.
“Wife or death.”
It was crazy, downright silly, but also true. What was the point in having it all when you didn’t have someone to spend it with?
If there was a difference between wife or death, I’d pick wife.
Chapter 18
Becky
“Mary, honey, get in the tub.” I had fifteen minutes to get this poor child dressed and changed and downstairs, ready for pictures.
Talk about dilemma.
When Mary had gotten home, she had decided that while I was doing laundry and while Sarah was calmly helping me neatly fold clothes, she would bake a cake … all by herself … and melt the chocolate in the microwave.
I hadn’t even known that the kid could use a microwave.
But no doubt, she was a genius, and she’d hoisted herself up onto the counter all by herself, shoved the chocolate morsels for chocolate chip cookies in the microwave, and pressed the minute button multiple times.
Too bad the chocolate morsels were still in the Nestlé bag. Too bad it almost caught on fire after the bag exploded.
Bless Mary’s heart as she tried to clean up everything with the dishrag, only to drop the chocolate morsels and get it all on the floor. Then, the smart kid had used her hands to clean it up and licked her hands clean in the process.
Now, not only was chocolate on her, but it was all over the house, and since I’d carried her upstairs, it was all over me.
Goodness gracious.
“Becky?” Sarah said, walking into the bathroom, me on my knees as I tried to get the water to run faster.
The smarter thing to do would have been to give her a shower and wash her clean, but Mary hated showers, as she said the water got in her eyes.
“Mary, Uncle Brad will be here soon. He called to see if we were ready.”
Mary licked her fingers. Chocolate was on her face, on each cheek, on her nose, and just above her brow where she had probably scratched an itch with her chocolate-smeared fingers.
In any other situation, this would have been comical. But not when photographers would be here any minute to shoot this family, and my one job was to get these kids ready, which they were not.
“Honeys, I’m home!” Brad said, calling from downstairs.
Anxiety spiked within me as I quickly undressed Mary and gently placed her in the tub.
Mary had no sense of urgency. I guessed no kid did really.
“What the hell?” Brad said, stepping into the bathroom. “What happened? You guys are supposed to be ready. The photogs are here and setting up downstairs.” He ran one hand through his hair and made it stand on end. In the next second, he was in front of the mirror, fixing it.
“There was a little accident,” I said, exasperated. “Mary decided to bake a cake while I was doing laundry.”
