“Yes. What was that?” I motioned to the kitchen, to Matt, keeping my voice low.
My husband’s eyes flashed and he spoke through gritted teeth, “A man, who happens to live next door to my family, takes off his clothes in my home while my beautiful wife is walking around in nothing but a towel . . .” Greg’s typically dry delivery was intoned with an extra helping of scathing sarcasm as he added, “Yeah. Seems legit.”
It took me a few seconds to recover from his insinuation, but when I did I forgot to lower my voice. “I used to babysit him, Greg! I changed his diapers.”
“Babysit him? What?” He looked truly perplexed, like I’d revealed Matt was responsible for all the Star Wars prequels, but then his eyes narrowed again as though he’d just realized something important. “Wait, so you’ve seen his penis?”
I gasped, then inadvertently laughed my frustration. “Really? That’s the take-home message? That I’ve seen his penis? If it makes you feel any better, it was about this long.” I held my thumb and forefinger apart to indicate an inch.
At the same moment Matt reappeared in the living room—shirt on—and unwisely said, “Hey! I was only two years old. It’s at least fifteen times larger now.”
“Fifteen times? Prone to exaggeration, aren’t you?” Greg drawled, giving Matt a look of plain disbelief.
“Not longer, larger.” Matt shrugged innocently, like he was clarifying the size of his sofa and not his man parts. “I was referring to volume, not necessarily length—though it is—”
“Oh good Lord.” I spoke over him, my fingers coming to my forehead. I rubbed the space between my eyebrows where a new headache flared, causing me to wince.
“Not helpful or pertinent information, Matt.” Greg’s eyes sliced to Matt, but then he did a double take. “Hey, wait a minute. Is that a cake? Who said you could have that cake?”
Matt looked from me to Greg, then took a step back and toward the front door, shifting the cake in his hands like he might make a run for it. “Fiona. She said I could have it. It’s my cake.”
Greg’s eyebrows jumped, his mouth fell open with livid shock, and he turned his glare back to me. “You made him the coconut cake?”
Pointedly not looking at my husband, I turned to Matt and said sincerely, “Please, take the cake. And thank you again for your help this morning. It made all the difference. If you wouldn’t mind, could you please stop by the basement and turn the water back on in the apartment?”
My neighbor gave me a quick smile, opened his mouth to respond, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he nodded solemnly and quickly made for the exit. The sound of our front door opening and closing was followed by a long silence, during which I took several deep breaths, attempting to calm and arrange my thoughts.
I decided I wouldn’t waste time being angry. I would ignore Greg’s boorish and slightly insulting behavior. Seeing him, having him here in person was a rare gift. I would determine how long he’d be in town and make the most of it.
And then I was going to distract him while I hid all the kids’ contraband in their rooms, including but not limited to Grace’s Barbie dolls and princess dress, as well as Jack’s soccer bag and uniform.
“So . . . you babysat him?” Greg was the first to speak, his tone laced with the barest hint of an apology.
I sat on the couch and gathered a deep breath. “I did. I babysat him for four years until he was eight.”
“He’s how much younger than you?” A shade of curiosity colored his words.
“He’s seven years younger. I was nine and he was two when I helped his nanny change his diapers, but I didn’t start watching him on my own until I was eleven and he was four.”
I felt Greg’s eyes on me, though I wasn’t ready to meet them. I was still upset. I needed another minute to bottle my feelings of offended frustration.
“I see. And he, what? Tracked you down and moved in next door?”
“No,” I responded evenly, though what I really wanted to do was call Greg out on his apparent jealousy. But what good would that do? I might feel better for three seconds—vindicated, superior, outraged—and then what? If I’d learned one thing over the course of our relationship, it was to pick my battles with the utmost care, because our greatest commodities were energy and time.
So I swallowed the urge and explained, “He moved in next door in January without realizing who I was. The kids and I took him dinner—as you know is my practice with every new person on the floor—and he recognized me.”
“And he’s been hanging around since?”