Page 19 of The Husband Diet
‘Ira, theyneverwant to go. They’re kids. It’s up to us to set the rules. Just how much chocolate did you let them have? And look at this place!’
Ira glared at me, got up and stalked into the guest room, slamming the door. And to think I’d slept with a rubber ducky in my mouth all night for him.
*
‘I heard,’ Marcy informed me as I was chopping parsley and garlic with my brand-new half-moon cutter.
She was pretending to visit her grandchildren. In other words, downing a Martini. She and this conversation were the last things I needed after the day I’d had.
‘He told you?’ I asked through tight lips, as if she were trying to pull all my teeth out and keeping my mouth firmly shut would actually stop her. I put my half-moon cutter down and speared her with my hairy eyeball.
She took a sip from her Martini and said coolly, ‘Ira’s not very good at keeping secrets.’
I kept my evil- and suspicious eye trained on her until she buckled and waved her half-empty glass, the liquid sloshing dangerously near the rim, and sighed.
My hands found my half-moon again, squeezing the handles tight. ‘Well, he managed to keep one secret. What did he say?’
‘Oh, lots of things.’
Christ, if Marcy had suddenly become Ira’s confidante, he must have been desperate. Or crafty. She’s the only one in the family who would gang up against me. Even Judy and Vince would support me.
‘Like what?’
‘That you grind your teeth at night. Go see Dr Jacobs, no?’ she said simply.
Obviously, he wasn’t telling her everything. How dare he talk to my mother about my faults when all I seemed to do was put up with his!
‘He also says you’re still going on about Tuscany after all these years. What an absurd idea, Erica. What are you going to do in Tuscany?’
I didn’t even need to think about it as I chopped away. ‘Be happy.’
‘But you’d be all on your own. We have very few relatives left there, if any.’
‘Suits me,’ I sentenced as I began to dice some onions to a pulp.
After all, I wouldn’t be on my own. Paul spent six months a year in Tuscany in his own villa.
‘Is it because of your bedroom problems?’
‘Wha-at? I’m not talking aboutthatto you.’
‘Oh, get over yourself. You need to learn the secrets of keeping your man. Good sex.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Marcy, get real.’
‘I am real,’ she assured. ‘You think I kept your dad on a leash all these years because I was a good cook?’
Highly unlikely, I thought to myself, and seeing the look on my face, she nodded.
‘Exactly. It was the sex.’
Today, singledom didn’t scare me. And I definitely wouldn’t go back on the shelves again, because I wouldn’t be interested in being picked. Not that there was any danger of that happening. I’d probably end up with some deluded divorced guy and we’d end up pouring our hearts out to each other on date one. Pathetic.
Besides, I didn’t need a man. I had everything I needed. Great kids. A fantastic job. A good house. And Paul. If I could afford to take the kids to Tuscany now, I’d go in a heartbeat.
‘If you’d only listened to me and gone ahead with the operation instead of running like a mouse. Really, you’d have solved all your problems. I told you how important sex is. Why can’t you understand?’
Obviously, Ira hadn’t confided in her completely, the slimy bastard.
