“I’m not sure working in the basement is healthy,” I told her. “No one can check on you. And you’re not known for eating your meals on time.”
“Who told you that?”
“Lottie.”
“You talked to my mother?”
“I was concerned about your eating habits and your hypoglycemia.”
She looked at me strangely. “It’s not life-threatening.”
“Yet,” he said. “That could lead to diabetes, right?”
“It can also lead to seizures and loss of consciousness,” Sorcha put in.
Lucy clamped her mouth shut. “A soda would fix it during an emergency.”
I glanced at Sorcha. “We’ll consult with a nutritionist.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, I’m not that bad.” Lucy huffed indignantly.
“I will determine what’s bad or not. I don’t like the idea of my wife fainting in the street. And it’s not the first time. Didn’t you tell me that at the funeral you were in danger of passing out? I’ve read it could lead to a coma.”
“It’s better to get a handle on it while you’re young,” Sorcha said. “My mother had a terrible time with it.”
“I’m sorry,” my wife said, but she looked properly chastened. Still, she glared at me. “I thought you wanted me to be managing your household, but it seems you want to do it.”
“If I have to.” I levelled at her. “No more skipping breakfast.”
She offered another annoyed sigh, but then it seemed she knew when to back off when she said, “I’m getting hungry. Sorcha is making stir-fry if that’s okay with you. Healthy stir-fry.”
My mouth twitched. “Sounds good to me.”
After dinner, we retired to the TV room. Lucy was a streaming junkie. I barely had time to watch anything except the political news and the stock market. I could do that in my bathroom with the TV mirror. I multitasked and hated wasting time on anything that didn’t serve the bratva’s purpose.
So, sitting down beside my wife, watching a show about a serial killer with a code, seemed like a waste of my time. I only had to be reminded of the times Aralina conned me into watching a show with her. Frequently, it was when she was sick and she turned those pleading blue eyes on me.
With Lucy, I was driven to find out what my wife did with her time besides accompanying me to events or doing her fixer jobs. Although right now it wasn’t a scandal, I knew she was still trying to figure out what the Kings were up to.
“This feels weird.” Lucy walked into the room with a bowl of popcorn.
“What’s weird?”
“You being in here.” She plopped down beside me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m willing to give it a try.”
“Well, first you need to relax.” She laughed. “Lean back against the couch.”
I was sitting stiffly. This room was rarely used, but I could tell it had recently been aired out and the furniture had been moved around.
“You need a newer television. This one’s a dinosaur.”
I sighed. “You’re in charge of the house. You’re not using the credit cards I opened for you.”
“I know,” she replied with a hint of apology. “It’s just a pain to change credit card numbers on the websites I have recurring payments.” She started the show, but paused it and added, “It’s not that I’m turning my nose up at your money. It’s just simpler…”
“Especially when we divorce?” I gritted.
