“What? Why? Where?”
Mitch tried to sit up, but he got tangled in the covers. He managed to extricate himself but tripped, falling out of bed with a satisfying thud.
“Vivian, what the hell?”
I removed the earmuffs from my left ear. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“What. The. Hell, Vivian?”
“Oh, my little makeshift alarm clock. Consider this your eviction notice. Collect your bare necessities and get the hell out of my house.”
“Your house?” Oh, that confused look on his face was utterly adorable.
“Remember when this house came up on the market and you were in San Diego? Remember how your credit was awful due to student loans—especially the ones that you didn’t pay off in a timely fashion before we got married—and I took over the finances? Remember how it would just be so much easier if Mom and I bought this house and got the better interest rate and then you didn’t have to waste your time signing all that paperwork? Oh, I do.”
Confusion turned into panic, then into ashen fear. Somehow, he’d forgotten this fact. “But I’ve been making the payments.”
“Actually, I’ve been making the payments from our joint account,” I said sweetly.
His emotions swirled to anger, and he gave me a scowl I knew well. “This is ridiculous. I’m going back to sleep.”
I allowed him to get back into bed, wrestle to untangle the covers, and even burrow underneath them. I waited patiently until his breathing had evened out ever so slightly. Then I banged the hell out of that cookie sheet again. “This is your snooze alarm! Time to get up! Rise and shine and get your ass out of my house!”
He only jumped once before getting out of bed. I kept banging.
“I’m up, I’m up!”
I allowed my arms to drop to my sides and forced my face to hold a pleasant smile in spite of the fact that I kinda wanted to throw up from the noise since children’s earmuffs could only do so much. There would be time enough for upchucking after Mitch had collected his things.
He went to the bathroom (expected) and then returned to the bedroom and headed for the door (unexpected).
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To get some coffee.”
“You can get coffee on your way out of my house. I’m not playing, Mitch. Get. Your. Shit. And. Go.”
If looks could kill, I would’ve been murdered in an instant. “You know what? You’re a real bitch.”
That word froze me dead in my tracks, widening my eyes and causing a chill to go through my body.
Vivian, remember your mother’s rules. Don’t ever let him know that’s he’s gotten to you.
I forced my lips into a smile. “Oh, good. Then that’s my Bitch Badge. Achievement unlocked!”
He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, his body still tense because he’d been gearing up for a fight. I continued to smile and stare, smile and stare. To my surprise and relief, he returned to his closet and took down his travel suitcase from the top shelf.
I sat down on the bed but kept the cookie sheet and metal spoon handy.
“Do you really have to watch me do this?”
“Yes.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
“Well, it’s your fault it’s come to this,” he said as he took socks and underwear from his drawers. Then he started on T-shirts, workout clothes, and scrubs. He had to leave some behind because he only had a carry-on suitcase. I could’ve gone upstairs to get one of the bigger suitcases, but I didn’t offer. My days of being the cheerful, helpful wife were over.
