“Eli?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she said it in a way he knew she meant it.
“Anytime, Mar.” He headed back toward the kitchen.
Enchiladas.
He should get lost in a paper plate of corn tortillas and sauce. Tortillas and sauce were safer than a room full of Marlee, which was pretty damn dangerous, given that he’d just signed up for a life full of Marlee for the next ninety days.
* * *
Marlee’s phonepinged with a new group message.
Becca: Married and now you’re moving in together?
Kellie: Moved in. She’s there, so she’s already moved in.
Becca: Damn, this is all happening so fast.
Sadie: You should get him to loosen up while you wait for the divorce. De-Eli him a bit.
Marlee: Do you think that’s even possible?
Kellie: De-Eli-ing him could be fun. And involve more tuxedos.
Becca: Not the polyester kind.
Marlee: We agreed we’re not doing that again.
Sadie: Let’s talk about something that isn’t my brother naked? Pls. & Thx.
Marlee: Miss you guys. I’ll be on De-Eli duty.
Sadie: If anyone can do it, you can.
Marlee was good with goals, and right then, her goal was to get Eli to loosen up. She’d make it step whatever-she-was-on in her get-her-life-back-together plan. He was strung tighter than Scotty that time the airline accidentally sent his prized golf clubs to Phoenix instead of Ft. Lauderdale. But she should also add the immediate need for cash, a divorce, and clothing to her goals list.
She only had two suitcases of clothes. The rest of her boxes were stacked in her garage, held hostage by Scotty. All she had to do was wait until he went golfing the next day. Then she’d go get the rest of her stuff.
Now, where she would put it? That was a totally different question.
Towel-drying her hair, she padded down the hallway to the kitchen-living-dining combo. Eli’s place had an open floor plan—one big room with a hallway that led to the bedroom and bath. He was sprawled on the sofa, staring at a football game on the television, a pillow snuggled against his chest.
She was good with goals. He was already super loose, and she hadn’t even spoken. She hung a left into the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten. The tray of enchiladas was untouched.
“You could’ve eaten without me.” She used a fork to get an enchilada onto her plate, the cheese leaving a long trail between plate and tray.
“Mar.” Eli was behind her. Likerightbehind her.
When did he get there?
“Yes, Eli?” She licked a stray string of cheese from her thumb.
He stared at the place she’d licked. “That’s not how you plate dinner.”
What? Her plate had dinner in the center. What else was she supposed to do?
