Page 26 of Bad Husband

“Ask her out on a date,” Brantley suggests, his arms above his head screwing in the drywall as I hold the crank steady.

“What do you mean? Like take her to dinner?”

“Yeah, but actually ask her instead of just taking her to dinner. Make it her choice.”

He has a good idea, doesn’t he? If this was me trying to get a girl to fall in love with me, I’d ask her out and attempt to make her see just how great of a guy I am before I take her to bed to seal the deal.

I could ask her out, get a babysitter and make her feel special but not because it’s a birthday or an anniversary but because I made time for her out of the blue.

I knew there’s a reason as to why I’m friends with Brantley. He thinks like a guy trying to get pussy every night of the week. And not just any pussy. He wants the variety pack which means he has to work a lot harder to collect all the different flavors there is to offer.

Now, how to ask her out?

Do you see the woman with the red hair and blue eyeshadow?

Scary, isn’t she? And she strangely resembles the Queen of Hearts, doesn’t she?

In your head, you’re totally picturing her saying, “Off with your head!” aren’t you?

And to think Madison willingly leaves our children with this nutball during the day. It’s ridiculous.

As soon as I walk in the room, I spot Noah on the floor lying on his stomach with his ear to the floor like he’s listening for something. I’m not entirely sure what he’s doing, but this is Noah we’re talking about. He also likes the floor, if you couldn’t tell. For a month, he slept on the floor because he said it was more comfortable than his bed.

Give the little guy a break. When I told you he’s three, I meant newly three. Like his birthday was last week so let’s go easy on him.

“Hey, buddy,” I say. His head snaps up at the sound of my voice.

Crawling to his feet, he runs to me, his arms locked around my neck. Don’t worry, I made sure to check his hands first for GI Joes. “Daddy home.”

“No, I’m here to pick you up.” I level him a serious look. “This isnotyour home.”

“Madison said you were picking them up,” Trisha says, leaning into the wall with a baby on her hip. “I didn’t think she was serious. Have you ever picked them up?”

Jesus, harsh much?What’s with people these days? They act like because I work during the day and don’t have time to do these types of things, I’m not present in the world at all. Was this the way it was for men in the thirties and forties when women couldn’t work and were forced to just be housewives? Did society just assume there wasn’t a man at home?

I don’t look Trisha in the eye. I can’t. It scares me, and the last time I looked her in the eye I had nightmares about New York subways for three nights. “Yeah, well, I am. Where’s Callan?”

“Right here,” he says from behind me, his backpack on his shoulder. “Why are you picking us up?”

“Mom’s running late tonight.” I smile, but it’s more uneasy than pleasant. “Just us boys for a little while?”

Do you hear the fear in my voice? And did you notice my words came out like a question?

Callan does, and his eyes widen a bit, but he corrects the look before I have time to ask what he’s thinking. I probably don’t want to know.

Noah refuses to let go of me, so I carry him outside like a gold chain wrapped around my neck.

“I’m hungry.” Callan opens the door to the truck as I open the other side to put Noah in his car seat. “Can we get dinner?”

“Yeah, what do you want?”

He thinks for a moment climbing into his booster seat. Tapping his finger to his chin, he then shrugs and reaches for his seat belt. “Can we have McDonald's?”

I laugh. “You remember how Mommy was upset with me last night?”

He nods.

“Well, if I get you guys McDonald's, she’ll probably kill me.”

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