Page 41 of Bad Husband

THE CONFERENCE OR whatever that was scheduled at one was pushed back to next week because the judge had a scheduling conflict. I’m excited because that not only allows me to get some work done but maybe by the time next weekend arrives, she’ll have forgotten all about this divorce nonsense.

It’s around seven that night when I finally make it home after hanging the rest of the drywall in the house and taping. With the burning sensation below my belt, all I want to do is sit on a bag of ice. I’m certainly not ready to see Nathalie and her devil child, so I invite Brantley over for dinner.

He groans when he sees Nathalie’s Trailblazer parked on the street. “You didn’t tell me she was going to be here.”

“Whoops.”

He glares and opens the door. Just so you know, Brantley and Nathalie met about the time Madison and I did. We were all at the same party that night. They hated each other. Like couldn’t even be in the same room together without wanting to kill one another.

Nathalie thinks he’s a pig who uses women, and he thinks she’s a bitch. They’re essentially both right, but I have to defend my friend here. He’s always honest with women, and they know ahead of time he’s just in it for the sex.

About a year ago, at our annual New Year’s Eve party Madison and I have, they fucked. And no, in case you’re wondering, the child she has is not Brantley’s. He’s product of another drunken night Nathalie had with some other guy. She makes a habit of getting drunk and spreading her legs.

Hypocritical don’t you think?

Anyways, from what I gather, they still fuck on occasions. I don’t ask and Brantley’s never been one to talk about it.

And Madison can’t understandwhyI don’t let her go out with Nathalie to the bar.

Anyway, Grady’s dad isn’t part of his life now, which is sad. The little fucker needs a man around to set a good example for him.

Walking inside the house, I smell steak. Madison is an amazing cook. Throws down the best meals at the drop of a hat.

Brantley walks in behind me. “I’m starving.”

We’re still dressed in our work clothes, trudging through the house in our boots, covered in a thin white dust from hanging drywall. Madison frowns when we come around the corner into the kitchen. “We should eat outside.”

I grab a beer from the fridge and one for Brantley. “Okay. Do you need help?”

For a second, she’s taken back by my willingness to help. “Uh, well,” she reaches for a bowl on the counter with what looks to be pasta salad in it, “you could find the boys and tell them it’s time for dinner.”

“Okay.” I’m not excited by this. Mostly because Grady will probably be with them and he hates me more than his mother does. I think she tells him to.

“Sorry for intruding,” Brantley says, wrapping his arm around Madison as I walk outside to see if the boys are in the backyard.

“You’re always welcome here, B.”

Upstairs, I find all three boys in Callan’s room. He looks stressed out sitting on his bed with a book on Ukraine while Noah and Grady are playing with GI Joes on the floor. They pay me no attention when I sit down next to Callan. “Hey, bud, how was school?”

He shrugs, flipping the page in his book. “Boring. But I got a book from the library today.”

I point to the one in his hand, reminded of the parent-teacher conference we had the other day. “This one?”

“Yeah. I really want to go to Ukraine. Will you take me?”

He’s not going to let this one go. Maybe he does have a little bit of my personality in him?

“We’ll have to talk about it sometime. That’s a big trip for a kid and more than likely not that safe.”

“It’s not Rio De Janeiro, Dad.”

I feel really dumb right now. “What’s wrong with Rio?”

“Their crime rate is ridiculous. It’s a third world country.”

Show’s how much I know. I ruffle his hair. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.” Peeking over the bed, I toss a pillow between Noah and Grady. “Dinner’s ready. Go downstairs.”

Do you think they listen to me?

---