Glancing up the stairs, knowing what I’m supposed to be doing right now, I force myself to take each step one at a time until I spin around and nearly jump down the steps Iranup.
I grab the letter and hold it up to the sun. See? I’m not opening it. It’s just super bright in here, and when the mailman was handing it to me, I couldn’t help whatIsaw.
As I position myself beneath the skylight and the bay window, the light perfectly reflects off the center of the envelope, allowing me to see just a few words. It could have been any sentence or words on the enclosed paper or papers, but of course, these words hadtobe:
... LabTestDNA...
DNA test? What the hell? Why do people get DNA tests? Oh no, he knocked someone up. Shit. Shit. Shit! Here I am, being all like, Tee-he-he, hotty Liam, we don’t have to use condoms because I totally believe you’re clean, and yeah, I haven’t been to the gyno in a year, but I’m so totally clean too because no one has stepped within a foot of me since then. Besides, condoms are sooo yesterday. The pill takes care of almost everything, up to a ninety-nine percent chance. (Giggle, giggle.) Fuck me in the ass while you’re at it because we can’t contract diseases or get pregnant that way. Tee-he-he.Fucking stupid,Julia.
Well, now I have to know. I look down at my watch again. He’s been gone for thirty minutes. I have no clue where the grocery store is here, nor how many items were on his list of thingstobuy.
How do I steam this stupid thing? Why am I thinking back to aBrady Bunchepisode? Didn’t one of them steam open a letter seamlessly and never get caught? I mean, I’m sure seeing how goody goody they all were, one of them confessed to Mom or Dad about how awful their behavior was, but I’m not Marcia, Jan, or Cindy. Unlike them, I clearly have no morals. Maybe I’m imagining this episode, but I swear Irememberit.
I bring the letter into the kitchen, fill the tea-kettle with water, and turn the stove on. A watched pot neverboils.
I’m not listening to the voice in my head telling me this is wrong. Not listening. I tap my fingertips on the granite countertop nine-hundred fifty times before the steam spouts from the opening. I hold the letter over the steam for a couple of minutes, ignoring the burning sensation running through my hand. This is so wrong. I should stop. I can’t. I don’t do this kind ofthing.
I don’t need to know what’sinside.
I mean, we’ve just been fucking . . . for likeaday.
But he has had a finger up my ass . . . that’s something. I should know his deepest darkest secrets now,obviously.
A finger up the ass is just for fun—it’s not acommitment.
However, he did cuddle with me. He told me I was beautiful. He obviously likes me, which means my heart is atstake.
I hear tires crushing the rocks in the driveway. Liam’s back. Shit! I need to breathe, relax, get this fucking thing to cool down, and place it back on top of the pileofmail.
I blow on it while simultaneously waving it around like a Polaroid picture. Come on,cooldown.
There are footsteps over the crunchy rocks outside, and I’m running outoftime.
The screen door opens, and I’m spinning around like a freaking moron, still holding hisletter.
“Hey, Julia, could you give me a hand?” Liam shouts inside. Hearing his voice trail off as he heads back to the SUV, I breathe a sigh ofrelief.
I run into the living room and toss the envelope down on the coffee table. It’s still a bit warm, but by time he’s done bringing in the groceries, it should be completely cool. That was so dumb. I never should have considered opening his mail. It’s a federal offense. What the hell was I thinking? It would have been hard to explain, but probably not nearly as hard as it would be for him to explain if he needs to break the news of a love child, or something ofthesort.
Quickly meeting Liam at the door with more bags, I take as many as I can carry and bring them into thekitchen.
As soon as I place them down on the table, I realize I never stopped Dylan from playing his video games, nor have I checked on him in an hour. I’m the freaking nanny? And such an amazing one, obviously. God, knowing my luck, he choked on something. Oh no. I need to go check on him before Liam gets upthere.
I run up the stairs. “Julia?” he calls out again. “There are a ton of bags. Where didyougo?”
Ignoring him, I poke my head into Dylan’s room, finding him with bloodshot eyes, staring unblinkingly at his TV like a zombie. “Hey buddy, I need your help putting groceries away. Can you give meahand?”
“No,” he says with monotony. “That’s notmyjob.”
“Dylan, bud, you’ve been playing video games for way longer than you should be today. I need you to come downstairs with me forabit.”
“I. Said. No!” He shouts at me and throws his controller across the room, where it leaves a sweet dent in the dry wall. Shoot. Come on,Dylan.
“How about a snack?” It’s not snack time, but I’m using one vice to get him away from the another. I should never be allowed to care for another human being,obviously.
“No snack. I’m playing. Was playing, until you ruined my day.” He’s gritting his teeth and seething withanger.
“Dylan, now, shut it off.” I raise my voice a bit, and his cheeks turn red. He covers his ears with his hands and shrieks so loudly my shoulders shoot up toward my ears, feeling his voice shudder through myentirebody.
