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“Who is he? What’s he doing here?”
“He’s my new contractor. I’m thinking of doing something with the basement.”
It took him a minute to make up his mind about whether he should go or stay, I guess because he kept looking back at my kitchen.
“The basement? What’s wrong with the basement?” He was questioning me, but his eyes were still fixed on the doorway to the kitchen.
Now you know how it feels when someone else is sniffing after what’s yours. If I had been thinking, I would’ve hired an escort. Next time. As if I hadn’t fucked with his head enough for the day I went in for the kill.
“I realized that when Tim comes over, we disrupt the kids a lot. I figure I’ll turn down there into our little love den, a place for us to play when the kids go down for the night.” My ass, that’s going to be my craft room and a bigger play area for the kids, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“He’s still coming over here? I thought…”
“You thought what? Doesn’t what’s her face come to your place every day? She practically lives with you last I heard.” His mother stays telling me their business which is funny as hell. Last I heard, the two of them don’t get along, and if I know my mother-in-law, she lets her dislike be known at every turn.
He looked like he wanted to strangle me. This ass used to leave my bed in the morning and go Tomcatting around with that hag, but now he’s looking at me like I betrayed him. “You should leave. Haven’t you been gone too long already?”
I pushed him out my house and went back to my business.
CHAPTER 4
Not even an hour after Jon left my phone was ringing off the hook. “What’s the matter now, Justin?” Damn, he calls me more now than when we were married. I guess Daisy Dukes is comfortable in her relationship because she doesn’t seem to see the signs. Justin always was a snake all salesman wanna be.
He spent hours each night on the phone with me and every weekday afternoon in a hotel room fucking my brains out, and some of those nights, I was sure she was in the house with him. I wasn’t too worried about her missing the signs because I plan to out us when the time is right anyway. Her clueless ass.
“It’s Jason; he’s being fussy. I think he might be coming down with something.”
“Oh!” I wonder what he did to my kid to get him to pretend to be sick. What five-year-old isn’t a fussy mess?
“Are you sure? He seemed fine when you left.”
“I’m sure I’m bringing them back to the house.”
He was smart enough to hang up before I could answer and showed up in my face ten minutes later. I doubt he even made it home before coming back here to annoy me. For someone who was worried about his kid, he sure spent an inordinate amount of time looking around my house as if expecting a man to jump out at him.
I didn’t miss the smug look on his face when he realized the coast was clear. I guess he missed the fact that there were no strange cars in the driveway. He seems to have lost his senses since the divorce, or his close proximity to the brainless twit he left me for was rubbing off on him.
“Come on, kids, let’s change into our play clothes.” He walked by me like he still lived here and took the kids upstairs to their rooms with the youngest in his arms, looking like the cat that ate the canary. Ain’t this a bitch? I had to divorce him to get him to be a father.
The time he spends grilling my poor kids about what goes on in my house is about the most time he’s spent with them since he started losing his mind three years ago. My poor kids don’t know what the hell is going on, but they know not to talk about Mommy’s friend, which only makes him rabid.
Unbeknownst to him, Mommy’s friend is the Instacart guy who doubles as a Doordasher and is here at least once a week. We shoot the breeze when he comes by because I make sure to tip him well because he has a young girlfriend with a kid at home. It’s got so I find little things for him to take care of on the property so I could give him some extra money.
My ex is convinced that this friend is Tim, so every time my kids mention him, I get interrogated like he works for M5. Once, they told him that Mommy’s friend brought pizza, and he tried to fuck me to death the next afternoon.
I heard him calling me from downstairs but pretended I didn’t because I wanted no part in what he was up to. I stayed my ass downstairs, waiting for him to make his way back down my stairs and out my damn house, but instead, I heard squeals from upstairs and the running of feet to the movie room.
I went up there to see what was going on and found the four of them on the wraparound couch with every pillow in the house around them and a whole cache of Disney movies ready to make me lose my damn mind.
Now, I’ve been careful not to let the kids see us together because I don’t want them to be more confused than they already are. But here he is, living out a moment from the past. This is what we used to do when one of the kids was feeling poorly.
“What are you doing?” I made my voice sound as friendly as I could so as not to alarm the kiddos.
“What does it look like?”
“You’re staying here?”
“Yes, I am. My kid is sick. What do you expect?”
