Eye Candy

“I’m not leaving without my apple-butter lube,” Aunt Bobbie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Ooooooh, you can use apple butter as lube? Reggie, maybe we should get a few cases,” my mom muses, smiling at my father, who has moved a few feet away, looking anywhere but at our small group, pretending like he doesn’t know us.

Scheva starts to drag her wagon of pumpkins toward the parking lot. Aunt Bobbie stomps away with her, and my mother continues trying to convince my dad they should stock up on apple butter. I send a quick text to Sam that we’re getting ready to leave, and he replies immediately, telling me he loves me, and that he and Alex will meet us out by the cars.

Like always, I feel like an idiot for the thoughts I’ve been having about my husband. I’m sure he’s just been acting more out of sorts than usual lately because he’s anxious about the fact that we’re about to become parents. My family provides enough insanity in our daily lives; I don’t need to add to it by making up issues that aren’t even there. I really do have the best husband in the world. If we weren’t still getting dirty looks from half of the staff right now, I’d run inside and pick up a few jars of Steph’s Apple Butter myself, for us. Maybe by the time Halloween rolls around next year, it will be safe to come back.





Chapter 4: It’s So Tingly


Sam

A wad of pumpkin guts smacks me in the face, and I glare at Alex as he sets down his drill and stares at the pumpkin in front of him.

“Is it really necessary for you to use a power tool to carve these pumpkins?” I ask, swiping the globby mess off my cheek and flicking it onto my newspaper-covered kitchen table.

“I’ve already carved seventeen pumpkins, and you’re only on your third. I’d say having a power tool is a necessity,” he answers, standing back to look at his work.

“All you’ve done is drill a giant hole in the center of each one. At least I’m putting effort into mine and giving them faces,” I reply, holding up the gap-toothed jack-o’-lantern I just finished.

“It’s not a giant hole. It’s a glory hole. I’m making these pumpkins multifunctional for the male guests, since going to a wedding for a dude is hell on earth. They can enjoy the soft glow of the candle inside of it during dinner, or they can take one to the bathroom and have a little in-and-out fun. People will thank me.”

Shaking my head at him, I walk over to the sink and start washing some of the goo off my hands.

“I’m pretty sure your bride-to-be will not be thanking you when you explain what you’ve done.”

Alex tosses me a towel when I turn around, and I begin drying my hands as he starts loading the carved pumpkins into a few large plastic containers that we can pack into my truck and take over to Reggie and Bev’s later.

“Speaking of thanking me, you didn’t even give me any gratitude for the gift I brought you today,” he complains.

“These pumpkins look dumb and ugly.”

We both turn to look at Tia, the six-year-old girl sitting at my table, who stares with annoyance at the pumpkins Alex puts into the container.

“I’m supposed to thank you for volunteering us to babysit your neighbor’s kid?” I whisper to Alex as I come up next to him.

“Children are a delight—especially you, Tia, isn’t that right?” Alex asks her with a huge smile on his face.

Tia jumps down from my chair, walks up to Alex, and kicks him right in the shin.

“SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!” he shouts, bending at the waist and grabbing his leg.

“You said a bad word. I’m telling my mommy!” Tia scolds before storming out of the kitchen, her blond pigtails swishing back and forth as she goes.

“I SAID TWO BAD WORDS! AT LEAST I CAN COUNT!” Alex shouts after her.

“Real mature,” I mutter with a shake of my head.

“Fine, not all children are a delight, but you should still be thanking me. Scheva told me that Noel thinks you’ve been acting weird lately, and that it might be because you’re scared about your impending fatherhood,” Alex explains as we start cleaning up the mess covering my kitchen table. “You can’t tell me this wasn’t a brilliant idea. It will give you a little practice on how to handle kids before the big day arrives, so you don’t fuck everything up.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. And I’m not nervous about becoming a father. You know exactly why I’ve been acting weird lately, so babysitting duty wasn’t necessary.”

Alex is the only one who knows about the surprise I’ve been planning for Noel, and that I’ve been busting my ass to get it finished before she has the baby. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t let the cat out of the bag, considering this guy usually can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“You do realize that once a certain someone finds out what you’ve done, you’re probably going to have to change your name and enter the witness-protection program, right?” Alex asks as he rolls up the pumpkin-guts-filled newspaper and tosses it in the trash.

“It’s not going to be that bad,” I tell him, even though I know it is.

It’s going to be bad. Horribly bad. I’m just hoping I’ll be forgiven and they’ll see how good this will be for everyone. Eventually. Like, maybe by the time our child goes to college.

“Where’s Tia?” I ask suddenly, peeking out of the kitchen doorway and not seeing her in the living room.

“Probably running with scissors, watching porn on YouTube, and lighting things on fire. She’ll be fine.”

With a sigh, I leave Alex to finish cleaning up my kitchen while I go in search of the little girl. I might not know a lot about kids, but I do know you should never leave them unattended for long periods of time, and that silence never equals anything good.

Luckily, my house isn’t that big, and I find her in the master bathroom, right off my and Noel’s bedroom.

“Oh, no,” I mutter as soon as I walk in the room.

Tia looks up at me from where she’s perched on the edge of the tub, and her eyes immediately fill with tears. I rush to her side and squat down next to her.

“I mean, oh no, I can’t believe you’re having fun without me!” I lie.

She smiles up at me and finishes squirting the last of an entire bottle of shampoo into the tub before standing up and pointing at it.

“Get in.”

I stare at her in confusion.

“Um, what?”

She sighs heavily.

“I said, get in. Take a bath.”

Glancing down into the tub, I wince at the mountain of goop that she’s dumped into the Jacuzzi tub, several sections of it starting to bubble and hiss. I’ve never seen shampoo do something like this, and it makes me a little nervous thinking about everything she could have dumped in there along with the hair-cleaning product.

“I don’t think—”

“GET IN THE TUB RIGHT NOW!” she screams, with a stomp of her foot.