I pull out the most expensive-looking bottle of red and hold it up between Delilah and me, waggling my eyebrows.
“You’re stealing his wine?” she asks, sounding exasperated despite the sly smirk on her lips.
“Whatever. He’s not going to drink it.”
“Neither will I!” Delilah exclaims, pointing at her stomach.
“Not for a few months. But once that baby is earthside, you and I are going to celebrate.” I tuck the bottle under the crook of my arm
By day’s end, Phase One ofOperation Goodbye Earlwill be complete.
“Ivy,grab the bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge and a couple of glasses, will you? I think we girls deserve a treat.”
Delilah looks up from where she’s setting the salad bowl on the table, panic in her eyes. She hasn’t told her parents or Sadie that she’s pregnant yet and even though I’ve been encouraging her to get a move on since she’s well into her second trimester and already showing under her flowy dresses, I can’t force her to admit the truth before she’s ready.
I, however, have been having a hard time keeping my mouth shut. It’s a good thing I don’t have any living family of my own left because I would have blabbed the news to everyone by now. The Lilith & Lace group chat is already sick of me and all my baby talk.
“No wine for me tonight, Suzanne. I’ve got an early appointment at The Inkwell tomorrow, and no one wants a hungover tattoo artist doing their thigh piece.”
“Yeah, I’m skipping the wine tonight too,” Delilah says with a note of relief in her voice that only I can detect. She ruffles the hair on Sadie’s head, earning herself a groan from her daughter. “Getting this one to soccer camp on time is hard enough as it is. I don’t need the headache to go with it.”
“More Chardonnay for me then,” Suzanne says, and with that settled, I grab the bottle of white wine and one glass and join the family around the table. Platters of pasta and chicken cutlets are passed around, as well as an oversized gravy boat filled to the brim with Suzanne’s scrumptious lemon, wine, and butter sauce. Sadie complains briefly about having to eat a small plate of salad, but she’s easily mollified by the addition of extra ranch dressing and my promise to play our cozy island game on her Switch after dessert.
The five of us settle into one of those family dinners I used to live for when I was a kid. My parents were long gone before I had a chance to remember them, and while I loved living with Grandma Millie in her eighties-museum style home, it often got lonely with just the two of us. I know she loved me deeply, but she showed her love through her actions—financial stability, keeping me fed and clothed, allowing me to express myself through clothes and body modification and giving me a safe place to be who I knew I was at a young age.
Warmth and coziness were never Millie’s strong suit, and I can’t fault her for that. But it never mattered because I had the Hudsons. This table I’m sitting at now has always been the warm hug my life had otherwise been missing.
Henry is in the middle of a story about his recent trip to San Francisco to visit Stephen’s west coast Hudson Family Construction operations when a knock on the door rattles the silverware.
“Who in the hell could that be?” he mutters, and Delilah shoots me a wide-eyed look.
“Delilah, I know you’re in there. Open up, NOW!” Earl’s voice, muffled by the solid wood door, rings out through the dining room.
Damn. I knew we’d be busted, but even I didn’t think Earl was dumb enough to confront us at Delilah’s parent’s home.
Henry’s face goes red as a stop sign, and my heart aches in my chest when I notice Sadie scoot closer to her mom. A child should never have to live in fear of an angry man. I clear my throat and push my chair away from the table, muttering “I got this” under my breath as I go.
I open the door just an inch and I’m immediately hit with the urge to double over in a fit of laughter. More than one of mine and Delilah’s tricks has already paid off. Earl is standing on the front porch, covered in purple iridescent glitter that seems to have seeped into his skin. His blonde hair is now pink, a fluorescent flamingo shade that clashes wildly with his orange-hued spray tan. Not that it matters, because I can already see the spots where chunks ofhair have already started to fall out thanks to the hair removal cream we mixed into his shampoo along with the dye. Lucky Earl won’t have pink hair for long. Too bad, he deserves much worse for what he’s put my Delilah through.
“Can I help you?” I ask, trying and failing to suppress a giggle at my view. If this were a cartoon, there’d be steam billowing out of Earl’s ears.
“Let me in.”
“Oh, this isn’t my house. I don’t have the right to let in strangers. You’ll have to come back later when the owners are home.”
“Do not fuck with me. I know Delilah is in there. I need to speak with my wife.” He emphasizes the last two words, practically yelling them over my shoulder like he’s an animal pissing a circle around Delilah to mark his territory. I don’t bother hiding my eye roll. This is the way it’s always been between us. I don’t hide my disdain for him, and Earl has forever seen me as a threat to his relationship with Delilah.
As he fucking should. I’ve spent years holding back; I’m about to be his worst damn nightmare.
“Earl,” Delilah hisses over my shoulder. I didn’t notice her coming up behind me, but now I can’t not feel her presence like electricity radiating off a live wire between us. “Keep your voice down. Your daughter is inside.”
Earl tries to inch forward, shoving an arm through the crack in the door. I push further, trapping him between the mahogany and the frame.
“Watch yourself, you piece of shit.”
“You watch yourself, you fucking whore,” he spits, followed by a few choice slurs aimed at my sexuality. I let them roll right off my back because I’ve always refused to let a man’s opinion of me get me down. It takes a small man to shit all over a strong woman, and Earl here is the tiniest of them all.
“Earl, let’s talk outside,” Delilah says, her voice breaking.
