“Winnie, you could have been more gracious. Fitz came all this way, and you were grumpy all evening,” Mom scolds.
I finish the rest of the wine as Dad and Fitz walk back in from the yard, deep in conversation.
“It’s a good thing we moved in when we did. I just think it’s too much yard for Winnie,” Dad is saying to Fitz, animated.
“Not that you can’t handle it, Creampuff.” Fitz smirks. “We know you’re a busy woman.”
“She is!” Dad beams. “She was talking about hiring a landscaper, but I told her no, no, we’ll take care of it, won’t we?” He pats Mom’s shoulder proudly.
I ignore them and focus on not dropping my spoonful of caramel blondie brownie and melting homemade ice cream onto the table.
“We should play a board game,” Mom chirps.
I shudder. The first thing I promised myself when I became an adult with my own bank account was that I would never play another family board game again.
“Can’t. I have to scrub these pans.”
“I’ll do it,” Fitz says, rolling his sleeves up like some kind of fantasy husband.
“No.” The word shoots out of me. Seeing him in my kitchen, sleeves rolled, a domesticated white-picket-fence boyfriend? Too much. “I think it’s time for you to go,” I tell him firmly.
“Throwing me out?” Fitz asks.
“Let’s make him a to-go plate.” Mom grabs a container.
“Fine. Here.” I shove a Tupperware into his hand. “Leave.”
My phone lights up:Loony Laura.
“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds!” she sings when I answer.
Loony Laura?Fitz mouths.
“She’s the bride,” I mutter.
“Ah. So I shouldn’t expect a goodbye blow job?” He smirks.
I choke. Kathy giggles.
“I got you, hot stuff,” Gran whispers to him. “Better run before Winnie chases you down with a cast iron.”
“Hi, Winnie!” Laura cries, waving furiously when I come back on FaceTime.
Carolina, on another screen, gives me a grimace of a smile as I head to my home office.
“Yes, we’re planning the wedding!” she trills. “I am so excited!” Laura waves her left hand in the camera. “I was telling Carolina that it’s a miracle that I was able to get away from him.” Laura giggles.
Carolina texts me without moving her face.
Carolina:This is the third time she has mentioned it.
“Oh my God, you don’t know what it’s like to fuck a pro athlete,” Laura gushes.
Actually, I do, Laura, but I keep that to myself.
“All he wants to do is have sex. Like four or five times a day. He can’t keep his hands off me. I do work out, of course. And I did get a boob job and a BBL. My baby says I’m hotter than the WAGs and not high-maintenance like that.” She tosses her hair smugly.
Carolina’s soul leaves her body.
