Where was the frozen pizza with the rising crust from the Dollar General, huh? Yearning for the processed deliciousness of her youth made Melissa’s stomach growl. The baby kicked as if agreeing. In a few more months, she’d have this baby to feed as well. Visions of organic carrot mush being flung at her filled her head. She really needed to hire a nanny ASAP, but the thought of looking through applications—and having another person living here—made her weary.
At five fifteen on the dot, Bradley walked in. Habit had Melissa get up from the couch to greet him. He took off his coat and draped it over the back of a counter stool, swung his bag onto another one, taking up too much room. Would it kill him to hang up his coat in the huge front hall closet, as she had asked him a dozen times?
“Hello, babe,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“Whoo!” he said. “Busy day! I had five clients.”
Five entire hours of work? Gosh golly. She wondered how he spent the rest of his workday.
“And how are you, beautiful woman with my baby in her stomach?” he said, putting his arms around her.
“Ew,” said Ophelia.
“I have to agree,” Melissa said with a forced smile. “Ew.” He could do better. She waited.
Instead, he opened the wine fridge and took out two bottles of white. Studied them like they were the Bible, then opened one and poured himself a hefty glass, leaving the other bottle on the counter.
“I thought you gave up drinking while I was pregnant,” she said, scooping Teeny up into her arms and kissing the dog’s head.
“Did I say that?” he asked. “I don’t remember.” He sipped the wine without meeting her eyes.
“You did,” Melissa said.
“Early Alzheimer’s,” Ophelia whispered loudly. Melissa smiled. This, too, was new . . . Ophelia on her side, ever since she’d found out about the baby. She was still moody, but something had shifted between them. It was still fresh, but it was there, growing like the baby inside her. The thought made her eyes tear up.
Bradley sat at the counter with his wine, now taking up three stools—one for his briefcase, one for his coat, one for his body. “When are we having dinner?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Depends on what you make.”
“What happened to Chef Paul?” Bradley asked.
“What happened to Chef Paul?” Ophelia echoed in a whine. Yes. Solidarity.
“He got caught off-Cape because of the weather,” Melissa said.
“Hon, you should’ve called me. I could’ve picked something up on my way home.”
“Or you could cook, Brad,” Ophelia said. “Your wife is pregnant, in case you missed it. Though I don’t know how you could miss it. No offense, Melissa.”
He muttered something under his breath. “What did you say?” Melissa snapped.
He looked right at her. “Lillie cooked even more when she was pregnant. Nesting, they call it.”
“And I’m sure everything was delicious,” Melissa said.
“It really was,” he said, missing the sarcasm in her voice. He picked up his phone and started scrolling. “I miss her cooking. We should go out for some good Portuguese food sometime.”
“Passive-aggressive much?” Ophelia said. She took an apple from the bowl and headed back to her room.
“I don’t think you truly understand what that term means, Ophelia,” Bradley said, not noticing that she wasn’t here anymore. Too focused on his phone. So much for #girldad.
“Bradley,” Melissa said, keeping her voice deceptively calm, “other than Lillie’s cooking, what else do you miss about her?”
He glanced up fondly. “Oh, a lot of things . . . she line dried our sheets in the summer. God, what a great smell that is. Line-dried sheets. And she had the best laugh. Great sense of humor. I don’t know. She really knew how to make a home.”
She picked up an apple and threw it at him. It hit him on the shoulder, and he jolted out of the chair.
“Melissa! What are you doing?”
“You’re talking about how much you miss your ex-wife while I’m standing here with this baby kicking me in the ribs. You don’t lift a finger around here. Feel free to go back to your first wife anytime, since she was so nurturing and perfect!”
He blinked his irritatingly beautiful eyes at her. “Wow. I didn’t know you felt so jealous of her,” he said in that infuriating, condescending way.
“I’m not jealous!” she shouted, then burst into tears.
“Oh, babe,” he said, taking her in his arms. “It’s normal to have these feelings. She was here first. I understand.”
“Get out of my kitchen, Bradley,” she said, pushing him away. “In fact, take a night off. Go stay at Lillie’s if you miss her so much. Go see a friend. If you have any, that is. Go do something productive. Work on that second book, maybe. Oh, I forgot. You’re not writing one.”
They hadn’t really fought yet. It felt amazing.
“Wow,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so aggressive. I guess it’s hormonal, and I understand the impulse to take it out on me, since you don’t doubt my love. Even so, maybe you should check with your obstetrician about this sudden hostility.”
She picked up another apple and cocked her arm. “Go.”
“Fine,” he said. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll give you some space. I’ll stay at my parents’ house, even though it’ll be cold there, since it’s been closed up since October. It’ll take hours to warm that place up, but if you need me to do that, I will. I’ll be back in the morning so we can talk like adults.”
With a martyred look on his face, he gathered his laptop and put on his coat. She only unclenched her jaw when she heard his car leaving the garage.
Then she opened the fridge and started making dinner for herself and Ophelia.
Men. No matter what, women still got stuck doing most of the work. But it was worth it. She’d have to send Bradley away more often, because the house immediately felt lighter without him. She cooked some cauliflower pasta with garlic, broccoli and tomatoes, and Ophelia even said it was good. When she asked if they could watch Glow Up on Netflix, even though it was a school night, Melissa said yes and made them popcorn.
“I might wanna be a makeup artist for the movies,” Ophelia said, eyes glued to the giant screen as the contestants transformed faces. “It looks so cool.”
“It sure does,” Melissa said. The wind gusted outside, and sleet pattered against the windows, but inside, they were just two girls interested in makeup, cozy as two bugs in a rug.
Bradley came home the next morning with whole-grain carrot cake muffins from Cottage Street Bakery, still warm. He apologized profusely, and without sounding like a condescending prick this time. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “I’ll try to be more in tune with your needs.”
“Thank you,” she said coolly. Best if he remembered his place here. He was her guest. The husband part could be temporary.
Then he knelt down and lifted her shirt to kiss her stomach, his beard tickling, and after a minute or two, as he worked his way downward, she decided she’d keep him a little bit longer.
But he was on notice. If she was his boss, there’d be a note in his file.
* * *
Later in the week, Melissa lay on the white couch, scrolling through TikTok to see what cute pregnancy ideas she could steal (though, confound it, every woman seemed to have that perfect round bump, not the pregnant-all-over look she had). Teeny, who’d been sleeping in a little cinnamon bun curl next to her, suddenly leaped down and started barking.
Melissa rolled off the couch, wincing as her back twanged. She went into the foyer and looked out. There was a car in the driveway. That was odd. No one ever just stopped by.
Then the driver got out, and Melissa gasped and flung open the door. “Kaitlyn! Are you out of jail?”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “No, Missy-Jo, I’m still in it. This is just a hologram.” She gestured to the house. “Done pretty good for yourself, I see. And son of a gun. You really are knocked up. The rumors were true.” She looked her sister up and down. “You gonna let me come in or what?”
“Um . . . sure. Come in and warm up.” Ten seconds in her sister’s presence, and the hillbilly was back in her voice.
“Is Harminee here?” Kaitlyn asked once they were inside, looking around the place. “Whoo-whee! Sweet!”
“She’s at school,” Melissa said. “She’ll be home around three thirty. And she goes by Ophelia now.”
“About that,” Kaitlyn said. “I’m taking her back.”
Melissa froze. “What? No, you’re not.”