Page 11 of Honey, I'm Home

She's stomping up the stairs, glaring at every single well-thought-out and expertly executed décor touch in the house. The hardware we hand painted a powder blue color that holds the railing up, the tread on the stair that was meticulously stained and the floral print wallpaper we cut for each rise, a perfect match to the fittings on the handrail brackets.

“Dev? Where are you?”

He pops the head out of one of the rooms, and at least he has some clothes on. I guess he's going for the grand reveal here, making himself stand apart by not showing off his junk this early in our engagement. Respect. Hell yeah, make her chase you, buddy.

“Damn it. He's about to do something she's not ready for, isn't he?” Hawthorne asks me, not making a single move to prevent Dev from doing just that.

We reluctantly follow along, trailing behind Aster as she walks to our future nursery. Dev of course is covered in paint, climbing up once more to his scaffold that holds him close to the ceiling.

“Oh my gods. Dev, did you seriously paint that? That's incredible. Is that... how long did you study the Sistine Chapel to create this?”

“Boom, I told you she'd know what it was!”

“I'm not even going to touch the fact that you guys thought I wouldn't know. OfcourseI’m familiar, do you know howmany art history classes I took in college? Dev, tell me that's wallpaper.”

Just to prove that it's not, he dips a brush in something he's got up there, lifting his palette and adding some shading to a very naked cupid. “I ain't gonna lie to my woman. If you don't like it, we can paint over it. A different theme? I've only put in a few hundred hours of work here. I can do it again, no problem. I’m totally not fully committed to it.”

Her jaw drops open, and she takes in the ceiling again, slowly spinning around. “Hopefully, whoever wants to buy this place has a taste for art. Can't even imagine the kind of monster that would want to get rid of this. Dev, this belongs like in a museum or something. Not a—”

I cough into my hand, saying the word nursery, making her turn with an eyebrow raised. I notice that Dev hid the crib under a very plush blanket, whose texture is doing a tiny bit to disguise it, but it's not nearly big enough to cover up all of the slats.

Aster walks up to it, grabbing the blanket to fold it artfully and drape it across the side of the crib, running her hand along the hand-scraped mahogany. “This is beautiful. Excellent staging, guys. I've got to say, I'm very impressed. This is a realtor's dream. Any family that’s interested in this home is going to eat this up.”

She seems lost in the moment for a little bit as she looks at the crib, longingly running her hand along it again. Then she snaps out of it, taking a few steps back. “Hey. Good, all three of you are here. We're just gonna pretend that all of you have clothing on.”

Dev rolls onto his stomach and peers over the scaffolding down at her. “Was I not supposed to have clothing on? Why didn't you guys tell me? Now I feel stupid.”

He starts trying to strip, but Aster stops him. “Clothes stay on. Stop trying to change the subject. I need you guys to be honest with me here. Why did you take me out to dinner the other day? And why was everybody congratulating me? It felt very weird. And why in the name of the gods did my brother think that we were dating? And furthermore, why did he tell me he'd seen wedding invitations? What am I missing here?”

All three of us start humming and looking in different directions, twiddling our thumbs. Unfortunately, she's not very impressed with this. “No. Talk to me. I know I’m missing something. You called me to Trash Haven, telling my mom you needed help selling your house.”

Hawthorne, being the sweetheart that he is, raises a finger in the air and steps forward. “Actually, if you think about it my dear, the words we asked her to pass along to you were, ‘We have finished our house and thought you could help with it.’”

She nods. “Right. And then she said thatyousaid that I was the only one you would consider getting involved with your house.”

I raise my hand. “In my defense, when I asked, I panicked about talking to you and the knowledge that you were a real estate agent sort of fell out of my brain. I can absolutely see how that could have gotten misconstrued.”

She spins to me, utter confusion falling over her face. “You literally came to my office the day after I got into town and openly talked about listing it! I even discussed the market value with one of you! You're not going to gaslight me into thinking you meant anything other than you wanted me to sell this house for you. That's literally what I do for a living. You have a large empty house. Newly refurbished. You came to me for help. What else should I have taken that as?”

“Well, this is awkward,” Dev says as he finally climbs down from his scaffolding. “Hey Aster, question for you. Why is it that things didn't work out with you and Bastini?”

“Ben? Is that the name you meant to say? Why is that so hard to remember? Not even my own brother got his name right. We didn't get along because I wanted to be with him still, and he wanted to screw his coworker in the break room. Classic clash of life goals.”

Dev presses on. “And there wasn't, I don't know, any sort of conversation between you two about how he knew you harbored some feelings for an old crush somewhere out there, and he wasn't going to play second fiddle to whoever it was?”

I'm scratching my neck when Aster spins to me because I remember this conversation well. She was mostly drunk, and I was mostly insect. Okay, I was all insect, no mostly about it. I just thought it sounded better to say it that way.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Tell me, Arbor, why does my brother think that you know what the garden I grew on my little patio looked like? How on earth would he know I planted pollinators on my balcony, or know about the cushion changes on my couch? You want to fess up to anything there?”

“Well, if it's optional, then no. I'm good. Anyway. You're going to stand there and act like you haven’t thought about us over the years? Haven’t imagined what it would be like to be with us instead of that idiot that always tried way too hard to get you into bed and then always got off too fast and fell asleep? Haven’t once thought about trading him in for some…bees, perhaps? So what, maybe we skipped a few inconsequential steps…”

She starts laughing. Very hard I might add, and I know I should be insulted. But I can't help smiling along with her, simply because it's infectious. She shakes her head, not pursuing thewhole why-we-know-so-many-intimate-details-about-her thing while she gets herself together, still chuckling every few seconds.

Hawthorne puts his hand in front of his face to talk to me as if that's going to cover up his voice from her. “Is her laughing this hard a bad sign?” he whispers to me.

“Anyway. Are we listing the home, or are we not? I'm kind of feeling like we're not. You know what? You just reach out if you need my professional services. How about that?”

She makes a move to leave, but we've practiced for this situation. Hawthorne grabs me by my thighs, bending down as I get some momentum and jump at the same time he lifts. Classic cheerleading move. What happens, is when she goes to reach for the door that was definitely closed, she reaches for my very exposed dick slit instead. Classic.