I’m pleased we didn’t do wedding photographs because it would have been terrible to look back and see me with a broken arm. We are going to have pictures taken together when it’s removed, and include Oren so it’s a family photograph.
The TV is on, and Whitney, Clem and Oren are watching a movie with a coffee table full of snacks and soft drinks.
“Um, can I have your attention for a minute?” I ask, and Myles chuckles under his breath at my timidity.
Whitney stands, places her hands on her hips and squints. “What have you done? I know that look. Out with it!”
I must look like I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Myles has no shame or embarrassment and blurts, “We got married. Meet Mrs. Maylee Barstow.”
Clem jumps to his feet and walks to us, giving me a hug and his brother a man hug, which ends in a back slap that has Myles taking two steps forward.
Whitney smiles as she walks over to me. “Aw, Lee, I am so happy for you, but you know I was supposed to be your flower girl.”
I look at her, and she’s grinning so broadly I know she’s making fun of me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want a fuss.”
A tug on my pants has me looking at Oren, who has a huge smile on his face. “That mean you are my mom now?”
I grab Oren and swing him around, which is difficult when you only have one arm to do it. “Yes, I am your mom, and I’m going to adopt you properly so that when I tan your butt, it’s legal.”
The look on Oren’s face is hysterical. He can’t believe he wanted me as a mom and I’d beat his butt. He places his hands on his butt and steps back until he reaches the couch and sits. He gives Myles a filthy look before turning back to the TV, but we all hear him mumble that he doesn’t want a mom after all.
In the afternoon and evening, we watch TV, eat snacks and drink soda that we found in both Whitney’s and our fridge. It’s a great day, and I never wanted to have a big wedding, because let’s be honest who would we even invite?
At work, I completed all the paperwork to change my married name. Thank everyone for their congratulations and complete the work on my desk.
I’m thankful that I didn’t break the arm that I write with, or it would have been a clusterfuck. Annabelle has been amazing. I didn’t have a secretary or a helper, but she has taken on the role. I’ve spoken to my boss, and he’s given Annabelle a salary raise, and made her my assistant. We get along great, and I’m plowing through the work that has been sitting on my desk.
Mrs. Carmichael is three towns over from here. She has a job, an apartment and all the support she could need. Thedivorce will go through easily with all the evidence against her husband.
I’m meeting Myles for lunch today, and after making sure Annabelle is informed I’m leaving but will be back in an hour. I head out to the café.
What I don’t expect to see is Florence freaking Tomas sitting with Myles, and looking way too friendly for my liking.
I strut up to the table, give Myles a look that should have him dropping to the floor d.e.a.d… “Am I interrupting something?” I ask icily.
“Hi, sugarplum,” Myles says, looking relieved I think?
Florence glares at me. “No, you can leave now.”
“So, you think I’m going to leave myHUSBAND…” which I spit out with as much snarl as I can muster, “with you?”
“What? Husband?”
Myles smiles innocently. “Come on, wifey, take a seat.” He turns to Florence. “Go away, I’ve told you three times already.”
“Oh, that’s harassment if I’ve ever heard it. I’ll speak to my boss about getting a court order…” I don’t get to say more before Florence is out of her chair, and out of the café.
“You are in trouble…” I state as I take a seat. But we both know I’m not really that angry with him, and he wouldn’t cheat. I lean forward and whisper. “You know they say make-up sex is the best!”
The next morning, I can confirm it is about the best, but I may have to annoy Myles just so I can test it again.
Chapter 4
Maylee
Tonight is the night that we attend the parent and teacher evening. Personally, I cannot wait. I’m well ready for the teachers to try pulling more bullshit. They apparently are holding a meeting rather than a one-on-one thing as they have in the past.
Sighing, I have to admit to myself I would have hated sitting in front of a teacher’s desk listening to them spout about Oren and his progress. I would have to rip them a new one if they were telling me bad stuff, because I would easily blame them for the lack of the teacher’s expertise.
