Page 75 of Too Good to Be True

“Thanks. I was just going to order a pizza, but this is great.”

“Wow! You’ve been working hard since we left,” Fran said, her voice sounding even closer.

Stacy felt a tickle in her nose and prayed she wouldn’t sneeze. It was allergy season, after all.

“I wanted to get organized.”

She smiled, knowing she’d had a part in it.

“Did you put on the new bedding?”

“Not yet,” Nick said, sounding a bit frantic.

Her eyes bugged out as she heard Fran’s footsteps coming closer to the bedroom. She didn’t dare move, though, in case she made a noise and alerted Fran to her presence. She wiggled her nose to stop the tickle and waited, her heart pounding in her chest.

“You can see it the next time you come over,” Nick said, and then the footsteps receded.

Soon she heard the front door creak open and Fran and Nick saying their goodbyes. Suddenly she felt the overwhelming urge to sneeze. Worried that Fran hadn’t left yet, she padded quickly yet softly across the room, buried her face in one of the throw pillows, and sneezed.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and that was how Nick found her: face down on the bed, with her nose buried in his new throw pillow!

Eighteen

The bed creaked under Nick’s weight as he sat on the edge of it and placed a hand on Stacy’s back.

“Are you okay?”

She sat up and faced him. “That depends. Do you think she heard me?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Not a chance.”

“Sorry about your throw pillow. I’ll buy you a new one.”

He laughed. “Don’t be silly. It was just a sneeze.”

“I was trying to block the sound.”

“I gathered that.”

“I’m terrible at hiding. The neighbor kids always found me first.”

“It would have been better if she knew you were here. Then I could have given you credit for helping me unpack.”

“I don’t care about that. Besides, if I had to face her today, I would have looked guilty. She probably would have guessed why I was really here.”

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. She recognized the habit as something he did when he was frustrated.

Then he slapped his hands on his thighs and said, “How about we take a break and eat? Do you like Chinese?”

“Love it.”

“Great.” He offered her his hand and helped her off the bed, though she didn’t need it. He kept ahold of it as he led her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “Sit down and let me serve you.”

Her mouth fell open, but his back was to her, and he hadn’t noticed. She’d never heard those words from her ex. In fact, he’d usually sat down at the table first and waited for her to bring out the food. In the beginning of their marriage, she hadn’t minded, but as time had passed, she’d come to resent it. She was no diehard feminist; however, it would have been nice if he’d occasionally offered to serve her or do the dishes, laundry, vacuuming…

“Sweet and sour chicken okay?” he asked.

“Mmm. Yes.”