Page 27 of My Husband Problem

On a less hideous note, there’s also an egg-shaped swing hanging from the huge tree in the corner of the yard. It looks like wicker, with pale green cushions, and the cream-colored throw blanket makes it easy to picture Astrid curling up in there with a book in the evening.

But I’m guessing she spends most of her “outdoor” time on this porch. There are soft yellow lights strung overhead, several potted plants, and a few large lanterns that, upon closer inspection, are electric but are replicas of the old-fashioned gas lanterns. Enormous cushions are scattered on the floor with some propped against the walls to provide padding to lean back into. There is a very low, long wooden table holding mismatched ceramic coasters, a cluster of candles in the middle, and a dish of what appear to be dried flowers.

The bohemian vibe on the porch complements the house's seventies theme but is more subdued and calming, and I hope she spends time out here with girlfriends and wine.

And I wonder if she’d let me spend time with her in this space.

“Well, at least it’s not alligators,” Iris says, reminding me I’m on the phone.

“What?” I ask with a frown.

“At least she doesn’t have a backyard full of alligators or something.”

Jesus. I scrub a hand over my face. And as my hand moves past my eyes, I look at the duck with the gorgeous emerald head.

Do alligators eat ducks? Surely, they do. Or would. Do these ducksattractalligators? If they do, does Astrid know what to do? Does Oscar ever come out here? Would an alligator go after a cat? I’m ninety-five percent sure it would.

Fuck.

“I need you to do some research,” I tell Iris, out of habit. This is what she does. She finds things out for me.

But I regret the words almost immediately.

“Okay,” she says. “What’s up?”

I rack my brain for something in my business that I can have her look into instead of admitting that I’m suddenly concerned about a flock of ducks I just met and a cat who hates me. But dammit, we were very careful to tie up any loose ends before I got on the plane yesterday. Iris can run my business for me completely on her own for weeks.

“Um…”

There’s a pause on her end of the phone.

Probably because I never say ‘um’.

Her tone is amused when she asks, “Something about alligators and ducks?”

I blow out a breath. “I was thinking along the lines of how to enclose this entire backyard. Make it one big screened-in porch.”

She laughs. “Send me the measurements.”

I don’t reply. I’m already eyeing the yard and making estimates. I’ve gotten good with estimating distances and dimensions after all these years of investing in properties and building and renovating.

“But maybe you should ask Astrid how she keeps her ducks safe and if she has any concerns. You know, since she’s been doing it for months without you, already.”

I grimace. Then sigh. “Yeah. That’s true.”

“Miles never mentioned ducks,” Iris says, almost absently. “You don’t think they’re new, do you?”

“There’s no way all of this all just got built.” But I pause. With enough money, anything can get done quickly. “She didn’t know I was coming.”

“Well, no, I don’t think she built it and got ducksfor you,” Iris says.

I can practically hear her rolling her eyes over the phone.

I hear movement in the kitchen and realize Astrid has come downstairs and probably doesn’t know I’m out here.

I glance over my shoulder through the window between the porch and kitchen.

She’s dressed for the day in a sundress and…fuck me.